Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Nolan
T he dining room at Mountain Laurel Lodge is always loud at dinner. Between Connor's hiking stories, Jameson's jokes, and Declan's passionate explanations of whatever he's cooked up, quiet conversation is pretty much impossible. But tonight, I find myself watching our newest guest instead of joining in the usual chaos.
Kathryn Taylor fits into our family dinner like she was meant to be here. She's laughing at one of Jameson's terrible puns, asking Connor intelligent questions about the local wildlife, and making all the right appreciative noises about Declan's pot roast. If it weren't for the designer blazer draped over her chair, you'd never know she was a city girl.
"So what do you think of our little slice of heaven?" Aunt Evie asks her, passing the rosemary potatoes.
"It's incredible." Kathryn's eyes light up. "I had no idea places like this still existed. Everything feels so real and authentic."
"As opposed to what?" I can't help asking.
She turns that bright gaze on me. "As opposed to places that try too hard to manufacture an ‘old-fashioned mountain experience.' This is..."
"What?"
"Genuine." She takes a sip of wine, and I find myself watching the way her throat moves. "Like the lodge grew right out of the mountainside."
"That's exactly what Pop used to say." Aunt Evie beams. "He always insisted we work with the land, not against it."
"Smart man." Kathryn's looking around the room now, taking in the old photographs on the walls. "How long has the lodge been here?"
"Since before electricity," Connor says. "Though we've added a few amenities since then."
"Thankfully," Jameson adds. "Can you imagine trying to run the activity center by candlelight?"
"Speaking of the activity center..." Aunt Evie gives me a meaningful look. "Nolan, why don't you show Kathryn around the property after dinner? The sunset from Eagle Point is particularly beautiful this time of year."
Subtle, Aunt Evie. Real subtle.
Kathryn's already turning those hazel eyes on me again. "I'd love a tour, if you don't mind?"
Like I could say no to that smile.
An hour later, we're walking the property's main trail, our shoulders occasionally brushing. She's changed into more sensible shoes, but that blazer's still making me smile.
"What?" she asks, catching my look.
"Nothing. Just thinking your usual vacation spots probably don't include quite so much dirt."
"And what makes you think this isn’t like my usual spots?"
"Lucky guess." I help her over a fallen log, trying not to notice how well her hand fits in mine. "Most of our guests don't show up looking like they stepped out of a business magazine."
"Maybe I'm branching out." There's something guarded in her tone, but before I can puzzle it out, we reach Eagle Point.
The sun's setting behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Kathryn moves to the railing, and I find myself watching her instead of the view. The wind's playing with her hair, and there's wonder in her expression as she takes in the valley below.
"This is..." She shakes her head.
"Genuine?"
She laughs. "I was going to say extraordinary, but genuine works too."
We stand in comfortable silence for a while, watching the colors deepen. I should be pointing out local landmarks or sharing the history of the lookout. Instead, I'm noticing how the sunset brings out gold flecks in her eyes.
"Tell me about the lodge," she says finally. "What's it like, working with family?"
"Loud." That gets another laugh. "But good. Everyone has their role. Connor knows these mountains better than anyone. Declan's a genius in the kitchen. Jameson keeps guests entertained. And Aunt Evie holds it all together."
"What about you? What's your role?"
"Besides giving sunset tours to city girls?"
She bumps my shoulder. "Besides that."
"Marketing, mostly. Social media, promotional events, community outreach. Making sure people know we're here."
"Sounds like you love it."
"I do." And I mean it. "There's something special about sharing this place with people who appreciate it."
The way she's looking at me makes me want to share a whole lot more, but my phone chimes with a text from Rowan. Supply run needed in town.
"Duty calls?" Kathryn asks.
"Unfortunately. But I can show you the rest tomorrow, if you're interested."
"I'd like that."
Morning hits different in Elk Ridge. The sun creeps over the mountains slowly, like it's in no hurry to start the day. I'm making my rounds downtown, checking in with local businesses about our upcoming fall festival at the lodge.
"Nolan!" Marie waves from her flower shop. She's arranging sunflowers in buckets outside her door, adding splashes of yellow to Main Street. "Tell your aunt those centerpieces for the Morgan wedding will be ready Friday."
"Will do." I help her shift a particularly heavy bucket. "Need any more lodge brochures?"
"Always. The tourists love your hiking trails." She straightens, brushing dirt from her apron. "Speaking of tourists. I saw your aunt's newest guest earlier. Quite a change from your usual crowd."
I try to keep my voice neutral. "How so?"
"Well, for one thing, she's wearing heels. On Main Street." Marie shakes her head fondly. "Reminded me of myself when I first moved here from Charlotte. Sometimes it takes a while to find your mountain legs."
I'm about to respond when I spot that familiar blazer through the morning crowd. Kathryn's walking purposefully down the street, checking her phone, looking every inch the city professional I'd almost forgotten she was last night.
But it's who she's meeting that stops me cold.
Cam Prescott stands outside the Coffee Loft in his usual trying-too-hard suit. He's wearing that same slick smile he had three years ago when he promised us the coffee shop would stay "authentically local" under corporate ownership.
Right before he gutted everything that made it special.
"Oh dear," Marie murmurs, following my gaze. "That can't be good."
I watch as Kathryn shakes Cam's hand. She pulls out her tablet and follows him inside. Through the window, I can see him gesturing around the space like a king showing off his castle.
"Remember what it was like before?" Marie asks softly. "When your mom used to take you and your cousins there after school?"
I do. Mom would order her usual. Connor and I would split a giant snickerdoodle cookie while she helped us with homework. After she got sick, Mr. Peterson would send cookies home with Dad, saying they were "extras" he needed to get rid of.
Then Cam showed up with his corporate checkbook and promises of "maintaining the local charm while maximizing efficiency."
Now the homemade cookies are gone, replaced by standardized seasonal offerings. The snickerdoodles come pre-packaged from some warehouse. And the community bulletin board where Mom used to post lodge events has been replaced by corporate promotional posters.
Through the window, I see Kathryn smile at something Cam says. She's taking notes, nodding, looking every bit the corporate consultant I should have known she was.
My phone buzzes. Jameson, reminding me about supplies he needs for the activity center. But I keep watching, pieces clicking into place. The business attire. The vague answers about why she's here. The way she changed the subject whenever the conversation turned to work.
"You know," Marie says gently, "she seemed nice when she stopped to admire my sunflowers earlier. Asked all about local suppliers, wanted to know if I'd consider providing flowers for?—"
"For the coffee shop?" The words come out sharper than I intended.
"Actually, she asked about the lodge. Said the arrangements in the great room were gorgeous."
I remember how her eyes lit up at dinner, how genuine her wonder seemed at Eagle Point. How easily she fit into our chaos. But I've seen this show before. Corporate sends in someone charming to smooth things over, to make big promises about community and connection. Then the spreadsheets come out, and suddenly words like "efficiency" and "standardization" start getting thrown around.
"Nolan." Marie's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Not everyone in a blazer is the enemy."
"No?" I watch Kathryn follow Cam to the counter. "Tell that to Mr. Peterson. Tell that to everyone who lost their jobs when Cam's 'efficiency experts' came through."
My phone buzzes again. This time it's Aunt Evie.
Don't forget to invite Kathryn to the bonfire tonight. Connor's bringing his guitar.
I stare at the message, remembering how her hand felt in mine on the trail. How her laugh blended with my family's at dinner. How she talked about things being genuine.
Sorry, I text back. Already made plans.
"You're being stubborn," Marie calls after me as I head toward my truck. "Just like your mother."
I pretend not to hear her. Mom was stubborn about the right things. About family, about community, about not letting anyone change what matters just because their spreadsheets say they should.
Some walls are better built early. Even if building them feels a lot like loss.