“I’m sure.”
“Okay, then.” Sam let out a long sigh. “I’ll sort out the contractor and leave for Green Peaks with the rest of the team tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you want to have a look around the construction before you go?”
“Yes. Give me a tour.”
I left the luggage in the living room and went with Sam to check on the progress on the guest cottages. The squat log buildings truly belonged in the forest—they looked as if they had grown from the ground like mushrooms. One of them already had the roof covered with succulents and grass. The chalet was bigger with a large glass front that reflected the trees and mountaintops. Aside from some landscaping touches and clearing out what was left from the construction material, the place looked finished. When I imagined the piles of planks gone and greenery growing, it looked like a fucking fairytale.
It had stopped raining, and the sun peeked out between dark-gray clouds. I carefully trod on the newly laid turf and tookin the brilliant fall colors. Most of the forest was pine, but the few maple trees and birches covered the ground with dark red and bright yellow leaves. I pulled in a deep breath, the scent of rain and earth filling my lungs.
Yeah. It would be okay.
I had no chalet to hibernate in, but neither did I have any flights booked, meetings, or interviews to suffer through.
The B&B would do fine.
2
MONTY
Me:Laurel Riley will be staying at the B&B for a week.
Jordy:Why? He’s got a fucking castle up in the forest.
Me:He’s coming at four.
Jordy:Booked it in person? Prbly just his people.
I flipped my screen the bird. Jordy was such a killjoy. I was about to reply something spicy, but then I changed my mind. Rather than engage in a messaging match, I called him.
He picked up the phone with his typical, “What?”
“His assistant booked it. Why would he book anything himself? He’sLaurel Riley. He has staff dedicated to tying his shoelaces, for fuck’s sake.”
“How do you know it’s him who’s coming?”
“Because his assistant said, and I quote, ‘Mr. Riley will arrive after four p.m.’ Why would he say that if he booked it for his people only?”
Jordy grunted in response. The clanking of glass came through the phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Setting up. I need to open a pub. Since the boss’s not coming, I’ve got to haul ass and put shit in order on my own.”
I glanced around the breakfast room, noticing the crumbs on one of the tables and smudges on the bar counter. “I need to be here to welcome Laurel Riley into our fine establishment.”
“Sure. Him and the king of Spain. Bring them for dinner.”
“Fuck off.”
“Gladly. I’m busy.” A heavy door squeaked as Jordy must have gone to the pub’s storage.
“You’re rude to management, Orson Jordan. That’s going into your evaluation report.”
“Uh-huh. The management can suck my dick.”
