Beth Kowalski pulled a fresh batch of brownies from the oven, the rich chocolate aroma filling the space. “Has anyone heard the latest news about the resort they’re building at Finley Point?”
The question shifted the energy in the room. Several heads turned, interest sparking across their faces.
“I heard something about it,” Maria said, setting down her spatula. “My husband mentioned the county planning department has been regularly visiting the site.”
“My cousin works for the engineering firm handling the site preparation,” Rachel offered, enthusiasm brightening her voice. “She says it’s going to be incredible. Luxurious but not pretentious, if that makes sense. They want it to feel like it belongs here.”
Susan listened as she arranged cookies on cooling racks. Paul had mentioned the resort during their last meeting, but he hadn’t said too much about it.
“Do you know the best part?” Rachel continued, pulling off her oven mitts. “They’re committed to hiring local people. Not just for construction, but for the permanent positions, too. Whether that’s hospitality staff, restaurant workers, maintenance crews, or any of the other positions they’ll need to fill.”
“That’s what I heard, too,” Beth said with a hopeful expression. “My daughter graduates from the culinary program at Flathead Valley Community College next spring. She’s been worried about having to move away to find decent work. This could change everything for young people like her.”
Laurel O’Riley nodded. “My nephew has his hospitality management degree, but he’s been working retail in Kalispell. A resort like that would give him real career opportunities without leaving the area.”
Susan frowned. Professional culinary positions in resort restaurants weren’t the same as teaching cooking classes or catering small events. If she wanted a job that would fill the restless energy inside her, the resort could offer that. But it would mean working long hours, and that wasn’t what she wanted.
“When are they supposed to open?” Susan asked, keeping her tone casual as she transferred the last batch of gingerbread onto cooling racks.
“Not for another year and a half at least,” Rachel said. “But my cousin mentioned they’ll start advertising positions way before that. They want to train people for the resort rather than hiring whoever applies at the last minute.”
“That shows they care about quality,” Maria observed, carefully spacing peanut butter cookies on a tray. “Most places just throw bodies at positions and hope for the best.”
Beth wiped flour from her cheek, leaving a white streak Susan didn’t have the heart to mention. “The owners already have contracts in place with local builders for the construction. My cousin’s company submitted a bid and they’re cautiously optimistic. The project manager said they want to support the regional economy.”
“I like the sound of that,” Laurel said. “Too many developments come in, use outside contractors, hire temporary staff, and leave nothing behind except environmental damage and inflated housing prices.”
Susan thought about Paul’s restaurant. Would the resort pull customers away from established businesses like the Lakeside Grill? Or would it bring more visitors to the area, expanding opportunities for everyone?
“Susan?” Rachel’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Are you okay? You seemed like you drifted away for a second.”
“I’m just thinking about the resort,” Susan admitted. “It could have a big impact on Sapphire Bay.”
“That’s a diplomatic way of putting it,” Maria laughed. “My husband’s more direct. He says the resort will either boost our local economy or ruin the character of the place we love. There’s no middle ground.”
“I think it depends on the people running it,” Susan said, checking the texture of the cooling brownies.
Beth nodded. “Whoever they hire for the restaurant will be important. If they bring in a celebrity chef from New York or Los Angeles who doesn’t understand Montana, it won’t feel authentic.”
Susan pictured Paul’s kitchen. His careful attention to sourcing and his respect for regional flavors would be perfect for the resort. He’d said that he didn’t want to manage a large kitchen again, but would he change his mind once the resort was being built?
“All right,” she announced, surveying their morning’s work. “We have two hundred cookies cooling, thirty brownies, and more almond crescents than I can count. Let’s take a break before we start the packaging process. There’s still some coffee left.”
The women gratefully accepted cups, settling onto stools around the workspace. Their conversation drifted from the resort to holiday plans, to children and grandchildren, to the ordinary rhythms of life in Sapphire Bay.
Susan listened more than she spoke, her mind still circling back to the resort project. Professional opportunities in Sapphire Bay were limited for someone with her background. She’d made peace with teaching, with the smaller scale of life here. But the resort would give her a new challenge, a way to reinvent the next phase of her life.
There was plenty of time to think about whether she’d like to work there part-time or whether she had the skills they’d need. Besides, helping Paul with his new menu and catering a few community events kept her busy.
Susan stood and rinsed her mug. “Let’s get back to work,” she said to everyone with a smile. “We’ve got a lot of Christmas joy to wrap up.”
Chapter 8
Paul slid the last salmon fillet onto the serving platter and stepped back to examine his work. The Thursday lunch crowd had thinned to just three tables, all occupied by locals who’d linger over coffee and conversation until well past two o’clock. He appreciated their relaxed presence. When they were serving tourists, it was always more stressful as they checked the time to make sure they weren’t missing the next event on their itinerary.
“Chef?” Jenny appeared at the kitchen doorway with her notepad tucked under one arm. “Pastor John just arrived. He want’s to know if you have a moment to speak with him.”
Paul glanced at the prep station where Harry methodically diced vegetables for the evening’s soup special. Everything seemed under control. “Tell him I’ll be right out.”
