Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Savannah
"A nd this will be your office."
Margaret pushes open the glass door, revealing a corner space with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Denver. The Rocky Mountains rise majestically in the distance, framed like a living painting.
"It's impressive," I say, running my hand along the sleek desk that dominates the room. Modern. Sophisticated. Everything I would have chosen for myself.
"As our new Regional Director, you deserve nothing less," Margaret says with satisfaction. "From here, you'll build our entire mountain states division."
I nod, taking it all in. Three days ago, I accepted the position over the phone. Today, I'm here to sign the final paperwork and begin the transition. The office is stunning—all clean lines and strategic placement. A designer leather chair sits behind the desk, positioned for optimal views of both the mountains and the city below.
"We've already lined up interviews for your assistant position," Margaret continues. "You'll meet the top three candidates tomorrow. Reception will be just outside, and the rest of your team will occupy the space being renovated on the floor below."
"The timeline is still two weeks?" I ask, glancing around at the empty shelves waiting to be filled.
"Yes, though we can be flexible if you need a few extra days to relocate," Margaret offers. "The corporate housing is ready whenever you are. Two-bedroom with mountain views, fully furnished."
Everything about this opportunity is perfect. The prestigious address, the substantial salary increase, the career advancement. Regional Director at thirty-two. A line on my resume that would open doors I haven't even thought to knock on yet.
So why can't I summon the thrill I expected to feel?
"Let's continue the tour," Margaret suggests, guiding me back into the hallway.
For the next hour, we move through the pristine office space. Conference rooms with state-of-the-art technology. A designer kitchen stocked with premium coffee. An entire floor still under construction where my future team will sit. Everything gleaming, everything new.
"We already have interest from Aspen Heights Resort and Vail Peaks Lodge," Margaret mentions as we return to the main conference room where several board members are waiting. "Once word gets out that you secured Bennett Financial, they'll be lining up for our services."
I smile automatically, though my mind drifts unexpectedly to Declan's Bennett Beef Wellington, to the pride in his eyes when everyone praised his creation. To Mia asking me about origami lessons. To Bear's head resting on my knee under the table.
To Jameson, watching me leave with hurt in his eyes and a wooden mountain charm clutched in his hand.
"Savannah?" Margaret's voice pulls me back. "You seem distracted. Everything alright?"
"Just taking it all in," I manage, gesturing to the sleek surroundings.
Margaret studies me for a moment, her years of corporate intuition clearly picking up something. "Let's grab coffee," she suggests, leading me to the designer kitchen.
As she prepares two cups from the elaborate espresso machine, she asks casually, "So, where do you see yourself taking this division in five years?"
Five years. The question that used to excite me now leaves me strangely empty. I open my mouth to deliver my usual polished response about strategic growth and market penetration, but the words stick in my throat.
Where do I see myself in five years?
In this corner office, surrounded by awards and accolades but eating takeout alone at my desk?
Or somewhere with mountain views that aren't framed by glass and steel? Somewhere with family dinners that run late because no one's watching the clock? Somewhere with a golden retriever who thinks he's a lap dog and a man whose smile makes me forget about five-year plans altogether?
"Savannah?" Margaret prompts, handing me a coffee cup. "That's usually your favorite question."
"I'm sorry," I say, gripping the cup like an anchor. "It's just... I've been so focused on getting here that I haven't thought much about what comes next."
Margaret raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my uncharacteristic lack of planning. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to develop that vision. For now, let's focus on the contracts you need to sign and getting you moved to Denver."
I nod, sipping coffee I barely taste.
This is everything I've worked for. The logical next step in a carefully planned career that I've already accepted.
So why does it suddenly feel like I'm heading in the wrong direction?
* * *
After leaving the office, I wander through downtown Denver. The city pulses with energy—sleek professionals hurrying between meetings, upscale shops displaying luxury goods, rooftop bars preparing for happy hour. Everything is polished, ambitious, driven.
Everything I thought I wanted.
I stop at a pedestrian crossing, watching people rush by. How many of them are chasing careers that look good on paper? How many are measuring success in promotions and salary figures rather than moments that make their hearts full?
My phone buzzes with a text from Margaret: Contracts ready for your signature tomorrow morning. 9a.m.?
I stare at the message, unable to type a response. Instead, I find myself opening my photo gallery, scrolling to pictures I didn't even realize I'd been taking. Mia proudly holding up her origami fox. Evie rolling out pie crust in the lodge kitchen. Bear sprawled dramatically across my feet during movie night.
The last photo makes me pause. It’s a group shot from the celebration dinner that Jules sent to everyone. In the background, slightly out of focus but unmistakable, is Jameson looking at me from across the room. The softness in his eyes, even in this casual captured moment, makes my chest ache.
"You plan everything in life, but you're too scared to plan for your own happiness."
His words echo in my mind as I continue walking, eventually finding myself in a small park. I sit on a bench, surrounded by carefully landscaped flower beds that somehow lack the wild beauty of mountain laurel growing freely on a hillside.
My fingers brush against my phone again, and without planning to, I find myself calling Jules.
"Hey, corporate queen!" she answers cheerfully. "How's the big city treating you?"
"It's fine," I manage. "Listen, can I ask you something? About Lauren and Liam?"
A pause. "That's not what I expected. But sure."
"What happened between them? I saw them arguing at the lodge, and the tension was..."
"Thick enough to cut with a knife?" Jules supplies. "Yeah, that's been going on since Lauren came back to town."
"But what happened? Why did they break up?"
Jules sighs. "From what Declan's told me, they were high school sweethearts, married young. Lauren wanted to move to the city, pursue a finance career. Liam couldn't imagine leaving the lodge."
My breath catches. "So she left."
"She chose her career," Jules confirms. "And then five years later, she came back. Evie hired her because she's qualified, but also because..."
"Because what?"
"Because some things deserve a second chance," Jules says softly. "Even if they're messy and complicated and don't fit into anyone's careful plans."
The words hit me with unexpected force. I think about Lauren's carefully maintained professionalism around Liam, the hurt that flashed in her eyes when he mentioned leaving things unfinished. Is that what I'm doing? Running away from something that matters because it doesn't fit my plans?
"Savannah? You still there?"
"Yeah," I whisper. "I'm thinking."
"About the fancy new job? Or about a certain activities coordinator whose dog keeps waiting by the door for you to come back?"
I close my eyes, the decision crystallizing with sudden clarity. "Tell Bear I miss him too."
After hanging up, I take a deep breath and make one more call.
"Margaret Wells."
"Margaret, it's Savannah." My voice sounds different to my own ears. It’s calmer, more certain. "I need to talk to you about the Denver position."
"Is there an issue with the contracts?" Her tone is brisk, businesslike.
I look out at the Denver skyline, at all the gleaming buildings filled with people pursuing careers that look impressive on paper. Then I think about a mountain lodge where time moves differently, where family dinners matter more than quarterly reports, where a certain activities coordinator and his dog showed me what really matters.
"Yes," I say, my decision crystallizing with sudden clarity. "There is."