25. Mia
Chapter twenty-five
Mia
“I hope you don’t mind that we’re meeting in here, Mia,” Ingrid says. “I wanted some privacy where we wouldn’t be overheard.” I don’t need to guess who she might be worried about overhearing. Will and I saw Bryce prowling around on our way here.
Ingrid’s office is an internal room, so there’s no natural light, but the room is bright with help of lots of table and floor lamps. Two small round tables topped with glowing Himalayan salt lamps are emitting a warm radiance from two corners. Nice touch. Damien is sitting at the glass desk, with a stack of paperwork in front of him, and a plate of pastries next to him.
“Good idea,” I say. "Privacy is underrated."
“Someone will be in to get our coffee orders shortly,” Damien says, sliding the paperwork to one side of the desk.
I catch Will’s eye. This is important, but god I wish I was still wrapped up in bed with him.
Damien clears his throat. “So, did you two enjoy yourselves last night?” I nod, watching Will. A flush climbs up my chest to my cheeks. Will looks smug.
“We did. Thank you for having us.” I know he loves seeing me squirm like this, knowing that he’s the cause of it. “Did you both have a good time? It seemed like a good turnout, everyone seemed to have a great time.”
Damien’s eyes darken. “Well, it certainly didn’t live up to past years, that’s for sure.” That was by far the most spectacular party I’d ever been to. I can’t imagine what past years must had been like.
“Sorry, Damien is just grumpy because it was a little less extravagant than previous years. But everyone did have a good time, didn’t they, Damien?” Ingrid says, hastily trying to smooth the waters. Is she nervous? A surprise, given how confident she's seemed when we chatted previously. She pulls an invisible hair from her sleeve.
“I know I don’t have a lot of influence in your decision-making, and I know we haven’t known each other for long. But I did know Craig.” Her voice is strong.
“He would be disappointed to see you choosing not to get involved in the resorts when things are in such dire times. It might not change your mind, but we want to take the opportunity to tell you more about who Craig was, if you’re willing to listen.” She glances sideways at Damien.
I sigh, running my hand through my loose hair. “I overheard Bryce talking to someone last night, and it solidified my feelings about the resorts.” I haven’t had as much time to plan what I’m going to do next as I would have wanted. But it’s become clear that I have no choice but to step in. I’m still not sure how I should do that. “It would be helpful for me to understand more about what Craig was like. What was he aiming for at the resorts?”
Damien smiles wistfully. “Above everything, Craig wanted to be an equal. It was important to him that he didn’t lord being the boss over everyone, but that he was one of us.” He clears his throat. “If I had to guess, I’d say he missed out on a proper childhood, and because he grew up at the resorts, then ended up running them, he didn’t have that many friends outside of the resorts. We became part of the extended family.”
“He was big on collaboration. He’d listen, genuinely, to other people’s ideas.” Ingrid takes over. “He would always try a few things before making a decision, and he put people —staff, or guests—before money.”
“In some ways, Bryce isn’t wrong. These resorts could be making more profits, but it simply wasn’t at the top of Craig’s priority list. And it wasn’t the top of your parent’s list either. I don’t think it has been for a long time.” Damien absent-mindedly scratches his thigh through his black pants. “It’s not that they don’t make money, because of course they’re profitable. It’s just less profit that they probably could make, if that’s what Craig and your parents had focused on.”
“It sounds like he was a great boss,” I say.
“He was more than a great boss, he was a great man.” Damien lets out a huff. Defensive? Hurt, about a friend’s legacy being undermined?
“Look, I don’t mean to be that person, and I’m sure this is going to sound horribly blunt—” Ingrid visibly braces herself as I speak. “—but is it possible that we’re seeing Craig…differently, now he’s gone?”
Ingrid blinks away in brief shock, while Damien picks up a pastry. He clears his throat, “I do know what you mean, but…” he looks at Ingrid, as if looking for a lifeline.
“No.” Her mouth closes in a tense line. “Yes, we all loved Craig, and there probably are some things about him we’re glossing over. But I don’t think the way he ran this place is something we’re seeing differently now he’s gone.” She looks straight at me. A challenge. I realize I’m twisting my fingers together in my lap and pull my hands apart.
“Craig loved these resorts and the history they represent, and if I can be frank, Bryce will burn the place to the ground, if that’s what makes him the most money,” she finishes.
“I’d like to know more about how Craig ran the place, if you don’t mind?”
Damien doesn’t hide his smile, which spreads broadly across his face. I guess this openness to hearing more about Craig is what he has been wanting.
“Ultimately, Craig made choices that were for the better of the resorts and the people who work here. He was principled, he had high standards, and expectations that people would meet those standards. There were times I wasn’t sure the standards were fair, yes,” he says, noticing my inquisitive look. “But he never once was unreasonable, and all you had to do was ask for help. We were people to him, not numbers on a spreadsheet.” Damien’s voice cracks. I look down at my lap, pick at my nails.
“We were family.” I pass Damien a tissue from a pack next to me. It hits me that he had lost not just a boss, but a good friend. He blows his nose noisily.
I pat him on the arm, feeling lost as to what to do. “I appreciate you sharing. Losing a friend is very tough.”
Ingrid looks ashen. “My god, Mia, I’m so sorry. We’re being so insensitive. You’ve just lost your brother.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. You forget, but I never actually met him. Not properly, anyway.” I run my hands through my hair, and I can’t help but notice Will watching my every move.
“We met not long after I started at the resort,” Damien says, taking my pause as an invitation. “I worked my way up relatively quickly, and your parents—actually—your dad, supported me to do a management course and training. Craig and I knew each other, and were friendly, but didn’t become close until I became the resort manager just over eight years ago.”
He pauses, clearly reflecting on their relationship. Damien must have started managing the resorts young. We stay quiet, giving him the space to go on. Ingrid nods encouragingly.
“Craig was one of my groomsmen at my wedding. He was the first person I called when my wife told me she wanted to get a divorce. Craig was the guy who showed up to my house with pizza, beer and a bunch of console games to take my mind off it. He was the one who pushed me into giving dating a go—not very successfully, I’ll add, but the thought was there.” His sigh is heavy. I’ve spent all this time thinking of Craig only so far as he relates to me. My long-lost brother. The person who looked after the resorts which I now own. It’s easy to forget that beyond that, he had a full life, with his own friends.
“I’m just realizing that I know nothing about his personal life. He wasn't in a relationship, was he?” I think back to the living memorial, but I don't recall a partner being there. And what’s worse, it hadn’t even occurred to me to ask.
Damien shakes his head. “No, not in a relationship. Not at the moment.” He pauses again. “He’s a good friend—was. He was a good friend.” He corrects with a dry bark of a laugh. “And a good guy. When we first got to know each other, I always thought he would be a bit of a dickhead.
“You know the type, grew up rich, silver spoon in his mouth, nepotism through and through; and that’s true, he did grow up rich, and it wouldn’t be right to say he didn’t grow up with everything he always wanted, and he did get his opportunities through nepotism. But that wasn’t the whole story of Craig. He was also a hard worker. He would advocate for his staff. He was kind, even when he didn’t have to be. He fought, a lot—all the time, really—with your dad about making changes that were expensive, but had a huge impact on the staff. I really fucking miss him.” His voice breaks.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get to know him,” I say, tears pricking behind my eyes. This kind of thing, this is what I have been searching for to understand my birth family. The real human stories of who they were.
We sit together in companionable silence for a few moments.
“I don’t want to run the resorts.” My voice is firm, leaving no room for arguments. “But I am committed to honoring what Craig wanted. What my birth parents would have wanted.” Ingrid’s jaw snaps shut. She looks like she was about to pick a fight, but decides against it at the last second.
“I have a job, a life. I can’t drop everything for this place, not right now,” I explain, keeping my face impassive and tone even. “However, I am committed to finding a way forward that works—for everyone. And it sounds like the first thing is finding someone other than Bryce to run the place.”
Ingrid and Damien stare at each other, at me, then back at each other. Maybe they’re surprised that I’m willing to do anything at all, let alone that thing being getting rid of Bryce. And honestly, I’m impressed with myself. I’m not normally this decisive, but now things are becoming clear to me. If I don’t step in now, I might never get another chance. I truly don’t want to get involved, but I can’t in good conscience let something that over years, a family— my family—has worked so hard to build go down in flames.
“So what happens now?” Ingrid asks, tucking her hair behind her ear. “How can we help?”
I think it through quickly, wishing Will and I had had time to discuss it before I have to do it in front of people. “I’ll need to talk to Bryce about his future role in the resorts. And I guess I start hiring someone new? I’ll need time to discuss this with the lawyer, and I’ll be in touch next week.”
Will convinces me we should go for a walk around the resort before our flight leaves later this afternoon. I prefer the idea of heading back to our room and doing our own ‘exercise’, but when he suggests we can use the time to talk about the plan for the resorts, I cave quickly.
Besides, making out in the snow is good enough for me.
We don warm jackets and boots, then wander outside in the direction Ingrid recommended. We decline her offer of getting a tour, and instead, opt to follow the trails ourselves.
We’re almost at the sign pointing to the walks when Will stiffens beside me.
“Did you see that?” he says, with a barely perceptible nod towards a group of cars.
“See what?”
He casually nods in the same direction again. A few meters away, popping up between two cars is a photographer with a serious-looking camera pointed right at us.
“What’s he doing?”
“I think he’s photographing you, Mia.” Will is using the same quiet, calm tone.
“He can’t just photograph me. Well, we’re in public, so he can, but that’s not a very nice thing to do without asking,” I amend.
“I bet he’s a journalist who’s got wind that you’re here. That camera is massive, and expensive, I bet. Why else is he hiding behind cars?”
“Should I go and tell him not to?” I ask. Will gently takes my arm. From afar, I’m sure it looks like a romantic gesture, but in reality, he’s trying to stop me from storming off towards the man.
He leans close, “If you were my client, I would tell you to think about the PR.”
“What do you suggest?” I ask under my breath.
“Be friendly, but firm. Find out what he wants, and don’t give him anything to write about. Or if you do, make it boring. ” I give him a grim nod. “There is a chance this isn’t about you, but if you make it a big deal, you risk it becoming about you; and these journos are relentless . Unfortunately, I’d say you’re on the cusp of becoming a public figure, given your ownership of the resorts.”
I know he’s right. I’d googled Craig, and my birth parents. There are interviews, photographs, all sorts. I feel stupid that I haven't made more of an effort to find out more about my birth family when I was growing up. They were hardly difficult to find.
“Okay. I’m going in.” I have to approach this delicately, but right now, I don’t have the time to think too much about how nervous I am. I stride toward him, chin up, with as much of a confident swagger as I can muster.
I sidle up next to the car I last saw the man duck behind. “Hello—were are you taking photos of us just then?” I hear a scramble, then the man stands, taking a small step back as I move closer. He’s a slight man, very thin. His jacket is swamping him. He must have borrowed it from someone much larger than him.
“You—you’re Mia Davis, owner of this place, aren’t you?” I don’t bother to try to hide my genuine surprise. There are social media photos of me online, so if someone does enough digging, they could link my ownership of the resorts to my actual face. I haven’t thought to do anything to hide my social media presence since I inherited. Quite a large oversight and I make a mental note to lock everything down when I get back to our room.
“Yes, I’m Mia.” I take a couple more steps toward him and pull off my glove, reaching out my hand. I’m proud of myself for taking control of the situation. The camera hangs from his neck as he fumbles with his gloves, finally taking my hand. I hide my grin.
“I’m Sam, with The Midnight Tribune. ” I recognize it. It’s a sleazy online tabloid, usually publishing some awful story about the Royals or something scandalous about a celebrity relationship. Will was right. Perfect. Just great.
“Hi Sam.” I force myself to keep an approachable smile on my face. “Can I ask why you’re taking photos of us?” I gesture to Will.
Sam looks down at his black boots, dark hair slipping down his forehead. His hair is damp, with a few droplets which look to be melted snow glinting in the light.
“You’re the new owner of the resorts, and now, clearly, you’re getting more and more involved. That’s news, I’m afraid.” To his credit, he looks ashamed of himself.
Will catches up. His eyes narrow as he looks Sam up and down. “And who did you say you work for, sorry?”
“ The Midnight Tribune . It’s not local to here, so maybe you haven’t heard about us.” He sticks his chin out, looking defensive.
Will shakes his head. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.” He gives me a little smirk. I’d bet anything that he has heard of The Midnight Tribune , but won’t give Sam the satisfaction of knowing that.
“There will be an article coming out about you in the next few days. Any statement you’d like to make?” Sam turns his attention back to me.
I run through the options in my head. I want to avoid Sam releasing an article about me, especially before I’ve told my friends about my true relationship with the resorts. I’ve been feeling more and more guilty about not having told them, but I need more time to plan and think through what I truly want to do with the resorts. All this nonsense with Bryce has thrown a real spanner in the works. If I’m too aggressive, he might end up publishing a hit piece. Too timid, he’ll walk right over me. I shoot a quick glance at Will, who jumps in like he can read my mind. I’m hardly one for being timid in a negotiation.
“We’re just heading out for a walk and a look around the trails—I think maybe there’s one down here? Wanna come with us? You guys can walk and talk. It’ll be freezing if we just stand around,” Will suggests. Sam hesitates. My heart starts thundering. I’m not sure what Will has in mind, but at least it will give me a few minutes to come up with a plan.
“We’ll wait if you want to drop off your camera, it looks pretty heavy.”
Sam is definitely uncertain, but he leads the way to his car, pointing to an unmarked small black hatchback with chains on the tires. “Okay, I guess. I’ll just need a couple of minutes.”
“Great! We’ll wait for you—” Will points out a sign on the edge of the carpark. “—over there.”
The second we are out of earshot, I start whispering in Will’s ear, my voice frantic. “You better have a plan. There’s no way in hell I want my face to be plastered everywhere. I can’t have everyone finding out I’m associated with the resorts yet.”
“The way I see it, you have a couple of options. You can try to convince him there’s no story here, and maybe he won’t post anything, or maybe just something small. You can give him something he wants more than selling your story right now. Or we can push him off the mountain.” He shrugs nonchalantly, and I can’t stop the frantic laugh that escapes my lips.
“Let’s leave murder to our last option, hey?”
Sam is coming toward us. “I’m with you on whatever you pick. Though if it’s murder, we will be having words later.”
Sam has added a beanie and an even bigger, padded black jacket. He has his gloved hands jammed in his pockets. I’m relieved to see that he looks uncertain.
“Have you been up here to Sternenschein Alpenlodge before, Sam?” I ask. Maybe trying to find out more about him will help find an angle here.
Sam shakes his head. “I came up yesterday, but it was before you arrived, according to Bry—undisclosed sources. So I barely got out of the car. I’ll be staying here tonight.”
I nod. Right. So almost certainly, this guy has been called by Bryce . God, I dislike that man. “We had the risotto for dinner the other night, you should try it. It’s fantastic.” My smile is open, as genuine as I can make it. Sam’s almost-slip marks him as either relatively new and inexperienced as a journalist or photographer, or someone who isn’t very careful.
Either of those I can use to my advantage.
“I should probably introduce you to Will,” I say. He reaches out his hand. They shake with their gloves still on.
“Nice to meet you, buddy.” Will seems to be going for friendly and non-threatening. Friendly and non-threatening is the opposite of what I’m feeling right now. I’m not the type of lawyer that’s a shark, but oh boy, am I wishing I was right now.
Will stops to read the track sign. There are three routes; one route that is multiple hours and goes to the summit, a two-hour loop track, and a thirty-minute return track.
“I hope you’re okay with the thirty-minute return track, Sam. I’m not wearing the right shoes for anything longer.” A lie. Both Will and I know it's a lie; we had planned and dressed for a walk in this weather.
Sam looks down at his own shoes doubtfully. “That’s fine. I wasn’t planning on going for a walk.”
“Great! A short walk will be perfect then. It’s nice to get outside!” My voice sounds too chirpy, even to me. Will gives me a pointed look and I make an effort to tone it down.
“To be upfront with you, Sam, I didn’t ask you on this walk just because I thought you’d be a nice walking buddy,” Will says.
A bubble of laughter escapes from me. Sam only cracks the briefest smile, so I try (admittedly inelegantly) to turn it into a cough.
“Look Sam, I’m new to this. The resorts, everything. I don’t even know how to ski, believe it or not.” That time, Sam does give me a very small laugh.
Will touches a tree branch that’s overhead, accidentally showering the three of us with a light sprinkling of snow.
“Shit! Sorry!” Will bellows as Sam narrowly avoids a big clump crashing into his head.
I dust off my shoulders, then turn to Sam, trying to dust him off the best I can.
“I don’t know how to do any of this, and one thing I’d like to be able to do is make sure the staff here have a lot of certainty; as much as I can possibly give them.” Sam brushes the last bit of snow off his shoulder, nodding along. “Anyway, I’m not sure how much you know about the place, Sam, but Craig, who was making sure all the resorts ran smoothly until recently, passed away just a few weeks ago.” I look at Sam. He’s still nodding.
This definitely isn’t news to him.
“These guys at the resorts, they loved Craig. Lots of staff have been working here for a very, very long time, and losing Craig was losing a friend. It’s been incredibly tough on them. That’s why I’ve been visiting. I want to make sure they’re supported during a very difficult time.” I’m picking my words carefully.
Sam nods along, panting heavily as he walks. Poor guy needs to get some cardio in. I’m hardly a gym bunny, but at least I don’t sound like Sam. We walk in silence for a few minutes, the only sound Sam’s heavy breathing. Will stops and pretends to tie his shoe, giving Sam time to catch his breath. I kneel at the same time.
“What do I do?” I glance frantically at Sam.
“Want me to help?” I nod furiously. Will isn’t in PR, but he knows a hell of a lot more about it than I do. Will stood, then holds out his hand to help me up. He pulls me in close, his hand lingering on the small of my back. For a second, I wonder whether he’s going to kiss me.
Will turns to Sam, and the moment is broken. “Like Mia said, Sam, she’s trying to give staff certainty right now. Things are pretty difficult for them. I’m sure a stand-up outfit like The Midnight Tribune wouldn’t do this, but some of the less savory places could end up publishing some stuff that is likely to just be a distraction.” Sam’s eyes shift left and right. He is looking distinctly less comfortable now. I hope we’re slowly starting to turn him around.
We walk in silence. I wonder why he’s so quiet. Inexperience? The only sound is our breathing; Sam’s heavy pant, my slightly heavier than normal breathing, and Will, sounding like he’s lounging around, not pulling himself through heavy snow.
We finally get to the turnaround point, which would be a lovely clearing with a few picnic tables and a nice view in summer. Today, the fog is thick, and even the picnic tables fade into the mist.
“Look Sam, we both know it’s important that you get a story and some photos. I get it, you’re just doing your job, and I respect that. But these people—” I gesture in a random direction, hoping it’s the direction of the resort. “—it’s not the best thing for them. And I haven’t, obviously, been involved with them for a very long time yet, but it is important to me that they can spend some time learning a new normal without Craig, and without the distraction of the media talking about him. I’m hoping we might be able to make some kind of deal.”
I see Will’s surprise out of the corner of my eye. I know from the way Sam’s eyes light up that I have him. I’m quiet for a full minute, hoping to give the impression that I’m carefully considering my options, even though I’ve already completely planned out what I’m going to offer.
This time, Sam is the first to speak.
“What kind of deal are you thinking?” Sam is walking ahead of us now, on a narrow section of the trail. Will grins at me behind Sam's back and nods encouragingly. I pick up my pace, and fall in line with Sam. I look up at him, trying to give the impression that I’m wary.
“I don’t know if this is a thing, but what if I was to say, agree to an interview with you, and an exclusive photoshoot at the resort in a few months? That would give the guys here and at the other resorts more time to get through their grief a wee bit more, but also gives you something that I hope might be helpful for you.”
Jackpot. Sam is desperately (and unsuccessfully) trying to hide a grin. He loves the idea.
He frowns, as if he’s thinking hard, then replies, “Perhaps we could talk about that. What sort of timeframe, though? We won’t be able to wait forever.” He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. “And the interview would be exclusive, of course. No interviews with any other magazine or anything, ours would be first.”
I slowly nod, pretending to consider his conditions. I look over to Will, very conspicuously, as if for reassurance. Will gives me a firm nod.
“Exclusive, yes, okay. I was thinking maybe June or July? If that works for you? And obviously, I would be happy to come to you for the interview, and I’m sure we can cover the cost of travel for the photoshoot.” I smile at him with my ‘I’m an open book’ smile. I think six months was probably pushing it, but you never know if you don’t try. To my surprise, Sam nods.
“June. Okay. You’ve got a deal.”
Will steps forward now. “Sam, I’ll need you to delete those photos, of course. It’s not that we don’t trust you, but I’d hate for them to come into the wrong hands.” I haven’t forgotten about the photos, but I’m grateful it doesn’t have to be me asking.
“Of course, if they did come out, I’d be forced to interview about it. Wouldn’t that mean any interview with you wasn’t exclusive anymore?” I ask, hoping I sound naive.
Sam squints in concentration, the gears in his head turning. I can tell this was not his usual forte, but he’s determined to negotiate this himself. Stupid, really. If he was more experienced, he would never agree on the spot. Step one to a good negotiation; don’t be too eager. He should go away and call someone for their opinion. But I’m not going to complain about his lack of experience.
“Okay. Yes, I see that. I’ll delete them. I can show you when we get back to the car.”
“I’d appreciate that, thanks, Sam. Gosh, I hope your work knows how helpful you are. When we do that interview, I’ll be sure to let them know.” Sam’s chest puffs almost comically at the compliment.
That was almost too easy.