Chapter Twenty-Four
HARPER
It only tookforty-eight hours for the conference room to take on the ambience of a fallout shelter after too many days underground. Half-empty coffee cups, mountains of plans and receipts, wrinkled Post-its clinging to every surface like paper barnacles—my version of structural triage. Somewhere under the layers, the faint scent of panic lingered, edged with mildew and that sharpness old AC units get. I wasn’t sure which was fraying faster, the walls or my mental state.
A knot of tension sat at the base of my skull, threatening to bloom into a headache. Every surface, my laptop screen included, was crusted with a thin layer of stress. In this fluorescent, flavorless light, Chase had become the storm’s eye. His blueprints shouldered the biggest piece of real estate on the table, diagrams annotated with block letters and, now and then, a snatch of profanity if you looked close enough. He was hunched over the plans, fingers braced against the edge as if holding back a flood.We’d just finished another triage meeting, more dire warnings from Jules and tense updates from Joe.
Chase tapped out something on his phone—probably tracking down a materials supplier or asking for updates from Elena. He didn’t look up. Didn’t look at me. Hadn’t looked at me, really, since that flash of connection we’d had in this very room two days ago.
The almost kiss.
And that hurt. I rolled my shoulders, considering his reaction. Right now, staring grimly at that structural report, Chase looked less like a confident architect and more like someone bracing for impact. He wasn’t talking about our future, but he wasn’t running away either.
He was stillhere, trying to hold the damn roof up.
Did I need to have more faith? It was obvious in every single way that Chase wasn’t Jarod. But that didn’t mean he and I wanted the same things.
I shook my head and got back to the current crisis. “Jules, the contingency isn’t going to cover this. We need to be realistic. The new projections Chase sent over this morning are… astronomical. Is there any chance the bank will extend our credit line? Even a short-term bridge loan?”
Across the table, Jules sighed, pushing escaped wisps of hair from her forehead. She’d been putting in the extra hours too, and it showed. “I already spoke with Dan Gillespie at the bank this morning. He was sympathetic, but the answer was a firm no. Given the existing loan size and the… unforeseen nature of these structural repairs, they’re not willing to extend further credit at this time. We’re maxed out.”
The words landed like lead weights. Maxed out. No more wiggle room.
Chase’s eyes flicked to the spreadsheet on his laptop,then to Jules. His hair, always artfully controlled, looked one run-through short of wild. His stubbled jaw clenched.
I folded my hands on the table. “So what are our options? Pause the Room Block One reno indefinitely?”
“Delaying will hurt our projected revenue significantly,” Jules countered. “We were counting on that income to service the current loan. Pushing it back means we’re just kicking the can down the road and potentially digging a deeper hole.”
Even Joe, in a sweat-stained Latitudes Design T-shirt, shifted uncomfortably as he pushed to his feet. “Not to interrupt the war council, but those guys with the shoring are coming at three. I’ll get started on prepping the space now.”
“Thanks, Joe. Just text me if you need anything.” I mustered my management smile, knowing how unconvincing it sounded. He gave Chase a wary glance, then slipped out, boots thudding heavily as he went.
I returned to Elena’s structural report. The verdict was that the damage didn’t extend all the way through the first floor, but everything affected would have to be replaced. Fully one-quarter of the first floor.
It was a financial and structural disaster. We were staring at a six-figure repair bill with no clear way to pay for it without compromising the entire renovation vision or the resort’s immediate financial health.
“What if we scale back the finishes in Room Block One and the bungalows?” Jules suggested. “Go with a more basic tile, standard fixtures instead of the custom ones?”
Chase finally looked up, his gaze direct and pained. “We could, but that undermines the entire premium experience we’re selling. It’s a short-term fix that devalues the long-term investment. And it still wouldn’t cover the full structural cost.”
“We may need to delay the next phase, then,” I added softly. “I know how much you like the new lobby design.”
The silence in the room was heavy, thick with unspoken fears. No one had a magic bullet.
As I stared at the report, willing solutions to present themselves, Chase fielded three more calls in five minutes—contractors, a hardware supply, then Marilyn from Latitudes. With every interruption, his responses got shorter, the edge in his voice more pronounced. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, staring at the report again.
“Thanks for the update. I’ll wait to hear from Marcus,” he said, ending the last call. The silence he left behind was deafening. For a beat, the only sounds were my typing and the hum of the air handler.
Finally, Chase closed his laptop with a definedclick. The exhaustion was plain on his face, but beneath it, a new resolve was hardening his expression.
“Okay.” His voice was low but firm, cutting through the despair that had settled in the room. He stared at me, then at Jules. “There are no good options on the table right now. Gutting the project isn’t one I’m willing to consider, and neither is bankrupting the resort.” He paused, taking a deep breath, and met my eyes squarely. “Give me a day or two. I need to run some numbers, make some calls. I’ll come up with something. We’re not sunk yet.”
Jules looked skeptical but also tired enough to grasp at any offer of a solution. “Chase, if there were an easy answer, we would have found it.”
“I know.” He met her gaze. “This won’t be easy. But I’ll find an answer. We’ll make it work.”
“Let’s hope so.” Jules gathered her things and headed out the door. “Let me know what the magic answer is when you find it.”
