Quince Valley: The Complete Series

Chapter 1

CASSANDRA

There are three things I never thought I’d do:

Take over as CEO of my family’s resort—alongside all four of my siblings;

Take up running—and not just for the subway;

Get rescued by a random fisherman after going ass-over-teakettle into the Quince River.

And yet all three of these were true by eight AM this morning.

Today had started out just fine. Great, in fact, considering how deeply stressed I’d been this past year.

Last year, when Mom passed, we discovered she didn’t leave the operation of the resort she’d run for the past 30 years to our father like she always said she would.

She’d left it to her five children. Together.

Back then, the only thing the five of us agreed on was that there wasn’t a chance we were going to do it.

We were all doing our own thing: I was living in Manhattan, working grueling hours as the CEO of a major hedge fund.

My twin Eli was flouting his business degree and working as an electrician in Jewel Lakes County, New York, while trying to start a family with his college sweetheart.

Griffin, meanwhile, had been doing whatever Griffin did at his cabin up in the woods a half-hour drive from here.

Jude was in extended mourning over the end of his pro-tennis career in France, and Chelsea was partying and planning weddings in Martha’s Vineyard.

Despite the fact that her instructions were to leave the running to all of us, we still figured Dad would be involved.

Instead, he booked himself a one-way ticket to Spain.

He said he was going to ‘find himself’ on some wilderness trail.

Then the employee who’d been left in charge in the short term nearly drove the place into the ground.

So we took it back. It made sense I’d be at the helm as CEO, with my business background and conveniently, my personal life in tatters.

And it was hell. The massive spa floor George had put in had nearly bankrupted us, and the whole east wing was still shut down, needing a massive renovation. None of us siblings were getting any kind of meaningful paycheck. I was shocked everyone was still sticking around, honestly.

But today everything was going to change.

Because I’d hired The Harringtons, AKA Mr. the shock of it nearly stopping my heart. For a moment, I couldn’t move at all. Then my lungs began to burn. I hadn’t taken a proper breath when I’d fallen in, and now it was too late. I realized, as I started moving my limbs, that I also didn’t know which way was up.

For a moment, all I saw as the river tumbled me forward was my own thrashing limbs, and streams of bubbles caused by my movements. Panic had a grip on me, and I felt my chest seize.

No. Stay calm, stay still.

It was Dad now, talking to me. The thing to do if you fall in, Dad used to say, was first and foremost stay calm. If you see or feel land below you, push up. Otherwise, let yourself rise to the surface. I was a strong swimmer. I’d be okay. I just needed air.

Spots began to form in my vision.

Stay calm.

It worked—a moment later, my head emerged from the water.

I sucked in a jagged breath, spreading my hands out to balance myself.

I was fine. I’d just scared myself. Eying the landscape while I caught my breath, I forced myself to focus.

Though it looked lazy, the river was moving fast. I needed to be mindful of currents, too. If I aimed diagonally, I could—

My thoughts were interrupted by something hooking around my waist. The abrupt stopping of my momentum caused the river to rush over me in a torrent, tugging at my legs, threatening to bring me down again.

I took in another breath but choked on the water running over my head.

My head came free of the water once more and I shoved at the thing around my waist. It was hard and thick.

A branch? But no, I was being pulled backward.

“I’ve got you!” said a voice.

Then, I was being lifted out of the water.

“Hey!” I sputtered as a pair of broad hands wrapped around my waist. Before I could protest further, I was flipped upside down, gasping and then coughing on the water still in my lungs. I felt like I’d inhaled half the river. I was being carried, ass-up out of the river. “What—?” I gasped.

It was only when I pressed my hands against the glossy rubber in my face, trying to push myself off, that I understood it was the fisherman who had reached out to snag me. It was the fisherman who now had me thrown over his shoulder like a caveman’s bride as he waded onto the shore.

“Put me down!” I hollered, and he froze. Then the man flipped me upright like I weighed nothing at all, and unceremoniously dropped me on my ass in the sand.