She holds up a hand. "I know that the hotel opens in three months. You can keep the plans and bring in another landscaper. They're detailed enough that anyone competent could execute, so you wouldn't lose much time—"
I put both hands on her shoulders, needing her to listen to me.
She stops mid-sentence.
I look straight at her and say, "I hope you have everything in that truck you need to start today," I say. "Because there's no one else I want on this project."
She takes a second to process that. I can actually see relief moving through her face.
Then she smiles. Mesmerizing and devastating.
"Really?" She says it like she genuinely needs me to confirm it. "Are you sure?"
I take my hands off her shoulders. I don’t want to, which is why I take them off.
"Get to work," I say.
I walk back inside before I think of an excuse not to.
The next few hours are productive. I move through the property one section at a time, meetings with staff, walkthroughs, the finishing crew in the suite wing laying tile with the focused quiet of people who know they're behind schedule. I sign off on the lighting spec. I take a call from William about the pre-opening PR.
At some point I find myself at the natural pool.
I'm proud of this one. We built it around the existing rock formation instead of pouring new concrete, and the result is something that looks like it was always here. The water's clear, fed by a filtered natural system, and the stone around it is the same pale limestone as the hills.
Standing here, the construction noise falls back.
I think about twenty-something Carter in a tiny studio apartment, nursing a broken heart. Days on a construction crew, nights at a bar. He was so far away to believe that this one day would be real.
It has been quite a journey. Long hours invested into work. No time for anything else. No social life. No family life. But, at forty years old I can say that I have made it. I have built something solid, real and mine. Every sacrifice has been worth it.
Then I look across the property and wonder if I’m lying to myself when I see her.
Sienna is working in the far back section, crouched over something in the area that will be the kitchen garden, her back to me. She moves like she's having a conversation with the space.
Before I can think of it, I’m already walking in her direction.
When I get close I can see she's done more than I expected. The herb bed prep is laid out in clean precise rows, the drainage solution for the slope already dug and tamped, everything measured before the first shovel went in. She's got soil on her hands and knees and a green smudge along her forearm. Her hair has mostly escaped the knot.
She hears me and looks up, blowing on her bangs to get them out of her eyes..
The smile she gives me is genuine and unguarded. And with enthusiasm she walks me through what she's done. The plant placement logic, the soil prep, the drainage fix.
"Are you planning on doing everything by yourself?" I ask.
"Not really. I will have someone helping me when necessary."
The sun is well up now. I look at her and I realize she's been here alone for hours. Her water bottle is sitting on a rock at the edge of the work area and there's nothing else anywhere near her.
"Have you eaten yet?"
She looks up. "I have snacks in the truck."
"It's not enough. You need to take a break to eat something"
She opens her mouth to protest but I stop her.
"You need to meet the chef anyway to discuss the kitchen garden. You’ll work while you eat. Win win."
