His jaw tightened. "We should probably talk about—"
"I didn't spend every penny I had to sit around your cabin making awkward small talk." I carried my plate to the sink, rinsed it with quick movements that kept my hands busy. The financial reality crashed over me again—every penny, gone,nothing left for gas or ingredients or rent. My chest constricted. "Show me what you've built, Gil. I want to see it all."
A long moment passed. Then he said, "All right. Give me five minutes to grab a coat."
BY MID-MORNING, WEwere trudging through snow-covered paths, Gil pointing out renovations and upgrades while I cataloged it all for ammunition.
The spa building gleamed with new construction—heated pool sending steam into the cold air, hot tubs, treatment rooms with mountain views. I ran my fingers across smooth tile, testing the heat radiating from the pool, needing to touch and understand the space the way I always did. The tile was warm, professionally installed.
"We source all our spa products locally," Gil explained. "Montana-made soaps, lotions, essential oils. Trying to support the regional economy."
Of course he was. Probably wrote it off as a tax deduction while patting himself on the back for being so generous.
But damn it, the attention to detail was impressive. The way he'd positioned the treatment rooms to overlook the mountains. The geothermal heating system he explained with genuine enthusiasm. The local artwork on the walls.
Stop being impressed. Remember what he took from you.
We moved on to the guest cabins—twelve of them scattered through the pines, each with private hot tubs and floor-to-ceiling windows. Gil unlocked one that was vacant and gestured me inside. The space was gorgeous—designer furnishings, luxury linens, a kitchen stocked with local coffee and treats, a bathroom with heated floors and a soaking tub.
"Cabins ranging from cozy one-bedrooms to family-sized layouts sleeping up to ten," Gil said from the doorway. "Wewanted to create spaces where people could actually connect, not just pass through."
Connect. Right. While paying five hundred dollars a night to pretend they were rugged mountain people for a weekend.
But the cabins were beautiful. Thoughtfully designed. Not cookie-cutter luxury but each one slightly different, fitted to its location among the pines. I hated that I noticed. Hated that some part of me—the part that had once dreamed of expanding Flynn's Lodge with Uncle Danny—could see the vision here.
We kept walking—past the new ski runs with their professional snowmaking equipment, past the rental shop with its gleaming gear. Everything was perfect. Professional. Exactly what wealthy tourists wanted.
Everything my family's lodge had never been.
And then I saw him.
Uncle Danny.
Afternoon sun slanted across the mountain as I spotted him maybe a quarter mile away, leading a group of skiers through what looked like a beginner lesson. Too far to see his face clearly, but I'd recognize that posture anywhere. The easy way he moved through snow, the patient gestures as he demonstrated technique.
Pain slammed through my chest. My knees went weak. I grabbed the railing of a nearby cabin deck to steady myself, the wood rough and cold under my palm.
That's Uncle Danny. Teaching rich tourists to ski on OUR mountain. Working for HIM.
A memory flashed—Uncle Danny standing in Flynn's Lodge kitchen, flour on his hands from helping me with petit fours for a wedding reception, laughing at some joke. Confident. Happy. Home.
Now he was up there, reduced to an employee on what used to be Flynn land. What used to be ours. What my parents built and loved.
My throat closed. Vision blurred.
I turned away fast, blinking hard against the burn in my eyes.
"You cold?" Gil's voice came from right behind me. "We should probably head back."
"Yeah. Fine. Let's go."
I walked quickly, putting distance between myself and that view of Uncle Danny. My fingers curled into fists inside my pockets. The rage felt good. Clean. Better than the confusion that had been creeping in since last night.
Focus. Finish the plan. Make him pay.
BACK AT THE CABIN,Gil built up the fire while I stood by the windows, arms wrapped around myself. My reflection stared back at me—small, pale, lost in his oversized cabin and his oversized life. Completely broke with no plan for next week except the revenge I was failing to execute.
"Here." He appeared behind me, holding out a dark gray sweater. "You're shivering."
