2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Juniper
D espite her resume being nothing short of impressive, I still had my reservations about Rachel Friedman. But no one else with any sort of experience was exactly banging down the door trying to get the gig, so she was my best bet.
From what I could gather, Rachel was close in age to me, maybe only a year or two younger, depending on exactly how old she was when she got her marketing degree from the University of Central Florida. I’d paid the most attention to the statistics listed in her experience, proving the return on investment in hiring her. A quick perusing on LinkedIn and Facebook, too, showed she was just an average young professional. Her profile photo was her professional headshot; her hair was in a bun and a soft, approachable smile was on her face.
But I didn’t do people. I hadn’t in a long time—not since the snowboarding accident that cost me my career, anyway. Dogs were preferable.
I waited for her in the hotel’s front lobby where I still needed to take down some old signage and replace a lot of decor. I’d already thrown a lot away, it was too musty to even be worth considering donating or repurposing. Even without its usual rustic charms, the lobby still maintained a warm, cozy atmosphere. The wood and stone interiors were reminiscent of the woods outside of here that littered the mountain, with warm lighting creating a welcoming ambiance. While the check-in, valet, and concierge desks were the first things seen upon walking through the front doors, the focal point was the stone fireplace with brown, faux-leather chairs and couches surrounding it. A cow-print blanket used to drape over the back of the couch, but I’d replaced it with a flannel-printed fleece and matching pillows.
Much more my style.
As I leaned against the front desk, a familiar throb of pain pulsed through my leg, not letting up despite my medication having long since set in. Most days, the tincture worked its magic and meant I felt as close to fine as I could. But on days like today, when the snow threatened to roll in through a thick haze of white, every muscle surrounding my permanently damaged nerve constricted against my will. A sharp, lingering pain shot through my right hip and lower back, continuing all the way down my leg into the ball of my foot. I shifted my weight as I waited for Rachel to arrive, pointing and flexing my toes as I stretched it out.
Stepping on a sword would be less painful; at least then I’d be able to pull the sword out. My nerve, unfortunately, was very much stuck where it was.
It made me even more annoyed than usual. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to Rachel I’d already decided dealing with someone else would be a necessary evil and she was meeting me when I was in a wretched mood, but it wasn’t my job to be her friend. My only job was to get this ski resort up and running again, back to its former glory.
Not that it was ever the most sought-after ski lodge on the mountain. The massive village at the bottom of the other side was a well-funded, more established destination for locals and tourists alike, which was how this place ended up as an abandoned dump. The construction work was already done—and the thought of how much I’d already spent on contractors made me want to hurl—on the cabins that had been beyond cleaning up, so at least that was out of the way. But at the end of the day, I knew I couldn’t do this alone, especially if I ever wanted to open this place and see a profit.
While I wasn’t in it for the money, to know my money hadn’t just gone into the toilet—literally and figuratively—would certainly be nice.
Sasquatch nudged my right leg with his large snout, leaving behind a few strands of brown fur on my tan chinos. I pat the Newfoundland’s head.
“Yeah, buddy, it does hurt today. But what else is new?”
I looked up at the sound of the lobby’s main doors sliding open to reveal Rachel with her suitcase. She’d only brought the one, which was half as tall as she was, and a stuffed bag on her back that made her hunch forward from its weight. Admittedly, Rachel was more beautiful than I expected—her headshot didn’t do her prominent nose and square jaw justice, and it was clear she put a lot of work into appearing professional. She wore a cream sweater over her light blue dress shirt paired with dark jeans and brown hiking boots that looked fresh out of the box. Her dark berry-red scarf matched her lip stain. If she were smart, she’d instead be wearing Chapstick for the harsh winter to come.
It was only September. Maybe I shouldn’t be this hard on her yet.
Rachel pushed some of her brown curls out of her face as she smiled. The emerald ring on her right hand caught the overhead light as she did, shimmering in my eye enough to make me squint for a second. When she tucked the curls behind her ears, it revealed goose earrings dangling from her lobes. “You must be Mr. Hart?”
I winced. “Yes, but please never call me that again.”
“Right,” she said, drawing out the vowel as she rocked on her heels. “Juniper it is, then. Well, it’s nice to meet you.” She stuck out her hand for a firm, confident handshake. “Rachel Friedman.”
“Yeah, a pleasure.” Upon closer examination, the geese dangling from her ears held knives in their beaks; an interesting choice for a first impression. “Thanks for responding so quickly to the listing. I’ve been eager to get started.”
“Of course.” From the high pitch of her voice, which matched our phone conversation, I gathered Rachel was faking niceties to get by. She sounded like she was ready to check someone in at the front desk rather than speaking normally with a peer. “Is it just us?”
“Yeah, and Sasquatch here. He’s off duty right now, but don’t pet him when his vest is on, alright?”
“He’s a service dog?”
I nodded and looked at the brown Newfoundland. “Go ahead, Squatch. You can say hi.” As Sasquatch approached her, sniffing her unfamiliar feet and her luggage, I said, “I’ve got a bad hip after a snowboarding accident. That comes with back pain, so Sasquatch here does a few tasks for me during flare-ups, so I don’t have to worry about accidentally making it hurt even more. Retrievals, mostly.”
Rachel crouched down to be closer to Sasquatch’s eye level and scratched between his ears. “Hey, big boy.” She spoke not quite in a baby voice, but definitely a few pitches higher. I hadn’t realized that was possible.
And just like that, Sasquatch was in love. He nuzzled her torso and neck with his nose, panting up a storm in his excitement. Some of his dark brown furs already shed onto her scarf as his tail waved back and forth, hitting the floor with a thwack every time it wagged, but she didn’t seem to mind as she said, “Aren’t you a sweetheart?”
I scoffed and crossed my arms, feeling a bit betrayed. “Yeah, he’d love a serial killer if they scratched between the ears like you do.”
She barked a laugh. Sasquatch licked her cheek in response, desperate for more attention, his fur and her brown curls blurring together as he nuzzled against her jaw.
“God, you’d think I ignore him.”
“He’s excited to make a new friend.” She stood, but Sasquatch stayed firmly planted against her leg. “How long have you had him?”
“About two and a half years. He and I can give you a quick lay of the land, but I’m sure you want to get settled and rest. We can worry about the bulk of the property tomorrow.”
“Sure, that works.”
I hid my relief; the last thing I wanted to do was walk through the entire resort with my weather-induced flare-up today. “Great. We’ll stick to the main building for now.” I pointed down the hall with my thumb. “We’ll start this way. I’m in 104, and you’re across from me in 105.” I reached into my left pocket—I carried nothing in the right one as to not have any extra pressure on my leg—and grabbed a room key. “This is all yours.”
“Thanks. Once I drop off my stuff, I’m ready to go if you are.”
“Might as well get this over with, yeah.”
Her brows rose, but she said nothing.
“Sorry, that sounded meaner than I intended.”
“It’s okay.”
This conversation needed to end before I fucked it up even more. “Drop your stuff off. I’m going to get Squatch’s vest on, and then we can go.”
I didn’t even give her the chance to say anything before I keyed open my door, let Sasquatch in, and then slammed it behind us. I faintly heard Rachel’s door across the hall open.
“It’s a good thing you’re here,” I said to Sasquatch as I grabbed his vest. He waited patiently for me to dress him. “She’d probably quit if I didn’t have you for a fuzzy buffer.”
Once Sasquatch was ready to go, I made one stop in the kitchen before having to face Rachel again. Today was what I called an Extra Dose Day where I treated myself to three doses of my medication instead of two. Since there was no harm in it and I knew my limit, I kept this to days when I was extra stressed or exhausted.
The current ache in my leg and my attitude, so bad even I was self-aware, meant it was an Extra Dose Day.
Once I opened the medicine drawer and grabbed the tincture bottle, I filled the stopper to the 0.25 ML marker with the yellow-colored oil, dropped it under my tongue, and then was finally ready to behave like a normal human. The first time I’d taken them, the skunky taste hit me like a battering ram, but now, I barely noticed it, instead focusing on the sweet undertones. Upon putting my meds away, eager to feel the relief I knew would hit within the next few minutes, I held the door open for Sasquatch and saw Rachel leaning against her door.
Despite the rough start, she actually smiled at me. Part of me doubted it was genuine.
“Okay,” I said. “Welcome to the lodge. Still open to name suggestions.”
“We’ll think of something,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll come to me as we walk around.”
“I’ve been telling myself that for the last eight months.”
“Well, luckily for you, branding and PR are my specialties.”
Rachel walked with her hands clasped behind her back. We moved back through the lobby where some photos of the nearby Rocky Mountains and elk surrounding a lake either hung on the wooden walls or were on the floor, leaning against the spot where I’d meant to put them up. The antler chandelier swung overhead, installed only a month ago.
“It’s beautiful in here,” she said. “The rooms are nice, too.”
“They’re all in that suite style like ours are,” I said. What I didn’t mention was I had the first floor renovated first. While I rarely needed the disability aids in the bathroom that my suite provided, I felt better having them there on days when everything hurt even more than usual. “The top floor should wrap up renovations next month.”
Not feeling up too much else, I showed Rachel around to the amenities on the first floor: a short, covered walkway that connected to The Elk’s Head restaurant, how to access the indoor and outdoor pools, the gym, gift shop with hardly any merchandise inside, and a quick grab-and-go cafe I was working on with a local coffee company. As we circled back to the lobby, I snapped my attention to the opening front door. Two people strolled in: one a woman wearing slacks and a fancy blouse with heavy makeup on, and the other a casually dressed man holding a camera on his shoulder.
Great. My favorite people.
“Hi, Juniper Hart?” The woman smiled. “I’m LeAnn Weiss from—”
“With all due respect, Ms. Weiss, I don’t give a shit what channel you’re with. Get out of here. We aren’t open yet. No further comment.”
LeAnn smoothed her strawberry blonde hair and frowned. She glanced at her cameraman and then said, “Mr. Hart, I was hoping to ask you a few quick questions. We’d only be five minutes, tops.”
I pointed to the door behind her. “The exit is where you came in from. Have a nice day.”
LeAnn went to say something, but Rachel beat her to the punch. “Do you have a business card?” She stepped forward and extended a hand. “I’m the new Assistant Manager, at least for now. Rachel Friedman. My apologies, Ms. Weiss.”
“I do.” She reached into her slacks and fished out her wallet, from which she grabbed a business card. “Are you a better point of contact, Ms. Friedman?”
“We can work together moving forward,” she said. “I’ll contact you once we have a press release ready and some exciting news to share.”
“Great. Thank you, Ms. Friedman.”
“Please, call me Rachel. It was lovely meeting you!”
I wanted to gag but tried to bite back my resentment.
Once the reporters left, Rachel sighed. I could feel her eyes on me, her stare more pointed than any of the knives in The Elk’s Head kitchen. “What was that all about?”
And I’d already failed.
“No reporters,” I said.
“We need them.”
“For what, drumming up some good press? Isn’t that what social media’s for these days?”
Rachel looked like she wanted to huff, but she swallowed loud enough to hear. There was a flame igniting her dark eyes, but her words were calm and poised. “Social media is only one piece of a much larger puzzle.”
I wished she would just snap and bite my head off instead of maintaining her corporate composure. But ultimately, I’d hired her to do a job. At least she’d already started.
Rachel then said, almost in a whisper, “Now her channel’s gonna think you’re a real mensch.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on me.
“Well, luckily I was never exactly famous for being nice, so she shouldn’t be surprised.” I shrugged; it was the truth. As a snowboarder, my attitude stemmed from a different place than it did now, but I was known for it all the same. Whether it was from being a cocky bastard or a rude bastard, they already all thought I was a bastard.
To be honest, I preferred it that way.
“Okay then,” Rachel said, “we can play good cop, bad cop. Problem solved. Just please don’t make it impossible for me to play good cop.”
I chuckled. “Challenge accepted, Friedman.” Knowing to quit while I was ahead, I said, “Well, I’ve got some bookkeeping to attend to. Contractors gotta get paid and all that. You have my personal cell number already, so give me a ring or knock if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll give you the day to unpack and get settled.”
She nodded as we both made our way down the hall. “Sure, yeah. Sounds good.” Her voice nearly cracked with nerves, and it took everything in me not to roll my eyes.
What did she have to be nervous about? She knew what she was signing up for.
The question plagued me as I went through the books, making sure I paid the last of the contractor invoices off and that everything was still in the green. I did so from the comfort of my couch with the blinds pulled back so I could enjoy the view of the grounds behind me. Nature brought me some semblance of peace, as did being out in the mountains. Despite everything that happened on slopes like these, they still brought me comfort. The slopes at this resort were familiar territory, ones that had never failed me since I was a boy.
I wasn’t sure how long I stared out the window aimlessly, but I snapped out of my daze when Sasquatch plopped a folded blanket that he’d carried in his mouth onto my lap. As I petted his head, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks, buddy.”
I set my laptop down so I could twist my spine, letting my lower back crack, and then set the blanket over my lap. Once my laptop was back in place, I patted the spot on the couch next to me, inviting Sasquatch up. I removed his vest, tossed it to the side, and shifted as he set his head on my left thigh; he knew better than to snuggle on my right side. The weight of his head and his soft fur always brought me comfort, too.
All that was left for me and Rachel to do was some final cleaning and decorating before we set up for an opening day. While I’d need to hire some additional staff before then, I wanted to see how far Rachel and I could go without having to get any more hands-on deck.
From personal experience, the fewer people involved, the better.
“Say, Squatch, do you think I made her nervous?”
The Newfoundland looked at me with wide eyes. Even when he smiled—I’m not sure if dogs actually do smile, but Sasquatch seemed to—his dark eyes made him look like he was pleading or on the verge of tears.
“I don’t make people nervous, do I?”
With a small, sweet boof, he shook his head in my lap.
“You know, it’s times like these where I’m not convinced you can’t actually understand me beyond the basics.”
Leave it to me to communicate better with a dog than with a fellow human being.