12. CARTER
CARTER
Three minutes since I last checked.
The Vale Hotel's lobby is a scenery of drop cloths, remaining scaffolding and the smell of fresh concrete baking in the early heat.
Through the open framing of what will be the entrance, the Ojai hills are starting to get hit by the morning light, that specific early angle that makes the whole property look magical.
I have a coffee in my hand and a hotel manager standing in front of me talking about the inauguration party for long minutes.
Sienna asked for this meeting. That's what’s occupying my mind. She sent the message yesterday, and the only reason I can come up with is that now that she knows William is one of the owners of the MG Group she's pulling out.
The plans she sent are the best site design work I've seen in years. Clean, specific, thought through. I've been looking forward to seeing how she executes them.
Work. That's all it is.
"The guest list," the hotel manager says.
My head is not here. It keeps going back to that hospital waiting room. Sienna and I going for coffee. Sienna with her hand in Adrian's, quiet and steady, pulling him back from something that was taking him under.
And then she left with him.
And I don’t like the way it made me feel.
"The guest list," the manager says again.
When I look back at him he has an expression of impatience that he is trying to hide. I am feeling quite impatient myself.
Then through the foyer window I see Sienna’s truck.
I'm already setting down the coffee and excusing myself before the hotel manager has time to say anything.
She's pulling into the spot when I get to the parking lot. I open her door.
She startles. "Oh. You were right here."
"Just walking past."
I am a straightforward liar.
She gets out and I can’t stop staring at her. Worn jeans with a rip at the left knee that came from actual work and not fashion statement. Army-green t-shirt, faded soft from sun and washing. Hair up in a knot with the bangs almost in her eyes, and she doesn't seem to notice or care.
"I had a chance to go through the plans you sent—" I start, but Sienna interrupts me.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." She adjusts the strap of her backpack. "I didn't know William was connected to this project."
I start to brace myself. She is going to walk away from the project. And that feels like I’ve just been punched in the gut, making me hold my breath.
She looks away for a second. "He didn't know it was my company either. Obviously." A pause, and her voice drops a little. "If he had, he wouldn't have hired Viridian."
She pulls in a breath and squares her shoulders.
"I totally understand if you don't want to work with me now. Given the circumstances."
I exhale the breath I’ve been holding and open my mouth to reply.
She holds up a hand. "I know that the hotel opens in three months. You can keep the plans and bring in another landscaper. They're detailed enough that anyone competent could execute, so you wouldn't lose much time—"
I put both hands on her shoulders, needing her to listen to me.
She stops mid-sentence.
I look straight at her and say, "I hope you have everything in that truck you need to start today," I say. "Because there's no one else I want on this project."
She takes a second to process that. I can actually see relief moving through her face.
Then she smiles. Mesmerizing and devastating.
"Really?" She says it like she genuinely needs me to confirm it. "Are you sure?"
I take my hands off her shoulders. I don’t want to, which is why I take them off.
"Get to work," I say.
I walk back inside before I think of an excuse not to.
The next few hours are productive. I move through the property one section at a time, meetings with staff, walkthroughs, the finishing crew in the suite wing laying tile with the focused quiet of people who know they're behind schedule.
I sign off on the lighting spec. I take a call from William about the pre-opening PR.
At some point I find myself at the natural pool.
I'm proud of this one. We built it around the existing rock formation instead of pouring new concrete, and the result is something that looks like it was always here. The water's clear, fed by a filtered natural system, and the stone around it is the same pale limestone as the hills.
Standing here, the construction noise falls back.
I think about twenty-something Carter in a tiny studio apartment, nursing a broken heart. Days on a construction crew, nights at a bar. He was so far away to believe that this one day would be real.
It has been quite a journey. Long hours invested into work. No time for anything else. No social life. No family life. But, at forty years old I can say that I have made it. I have built something solid, real and mine. Every sacrifice has been worth it.
Then I look across the property and wonder if I’m lying to myself when I see her.
Sienna is working in the far back section, crouched over something in the area that will be the kitchen garden, her back to me. She moves like she's having a conversation with the space.
Before I can think of it, I’m already walking in her direction.
When I get close I can see she's done more than I expected.
The herb bed prep is laid out in clean precise rows, the drainage solution for the slope already dug and tamped, everything measured before the first shovel went in.
She's got soil on her hands and knees and a green smudge along her forearm. Her hair has mostly escaped the knot.
She hears me and looks up, blowing on her bangs to get them out of her eyes..
The smile she gives me is genuine and unguarded. And with enthusiasm she walks me through what she's done. The plant placement logic, the soil prep, the drainage fix.
"Are you planning on doing everything by yourself?" I ask.
"Not really. I will have someone helping me when necessary."
The sun is well up now. I look at her and I realize she's been here alone for hours. Her water bottle is sitting on a rock at the edge of the work area and there's nothing else anywhere near her.
"Have you eaten yet?"
She looks up. "I have snacks in the truck."
"It's not enough. You need to take a break to eat something"
She opens her mouth to protest but I stop her.
"You need to meet the chef anyway to discuss the kitchen garden. You’ll work while you eat. Win win."
She looks at me like she knows exactly what I did and she's choosing to let it go.
"Fine," she says. "Let’s go."
The kitchen is quiet, just a handful of staff getting acquainted with the space, assessing the equipment, making inventory.
The scent hits when we walk in. Olive oil, fresh herbs and grilled bread.
Elias is with his team, looking at a small plate, discussing and taking notes. They have been testing recipes and deciding on the menu, before the hotel opening.
Elias Kassianis is what people refer to as being larger than life. Greek, mid-forties, the kind of person who makes you feel good just to be around him. He is already looking at Sienna with a questioning look.
"Chef Elias, this is Sienna Cross," I introduce them. "She's designing the kitchen garden. Elias, do you have time to talk about it? And can someone put together something to eat? She hasn’t had anything—"
"Oh, there's no need," Sienna says immediately. "I don't want anyone to bother—"
Elias waves this away completely. "I will do it myself." He's already moving. He looks at Sienna with heated focus.
"Besides." He smiles. "How do you Americans say it? The way to someone's heart is through the stomach?" He winks at her.
She starts to blush.
I note the wink. I note the blush. I note that my internal reaction to both is maybe out of proportion.
After Sienna washes up we sit at the staff table. Elias puts together a mezze in the time it takes most people to find a menu. Hummus, warm bread, olives, halloumi still crackling from the pan. He sets it down and the aroma is mouthwatering.
Sienna and Elias start talking about the kitchen garden before I've picked up anything to eat.
What to grow, the rotation logic, which herbs need full sun versus partial, what the kitchen will actually use versus what looks good on a menu.
She leans forward on her elbows. Her hands move when she's certain about something, small quick gestures.
Elias matches her energy without effort.
I eat. I don't add much to the conversation. I'm watching her be completely lit up about something she cares about, and no particular desire to interrupt her enthusiasm.
“I was thinking of doing some cooking workshops with the guests.” Elias mentions and Sienna almost jumps in her seat with joy.
"Start outside," she says. "Bring them to the garden first. Let them harvest what they're going to cook. " She's building it as she speaks, hands moving faster.
Elias points at her. "Yes." He glances at me. “She’s good!"
I know.
After we are done, he says goodbye to her at the kitchen entrance with the specific enthusiasm of a man who has enjoyed himself and wants her to know it.
She thanks him twice. He makes it clear she can come back whenever she wants, and I privately clock the extra half-beat he holds the goodbye before he steps back.
Sienna turns to me. "I'm calling it a day. I'll be back tomorrow."
I nod.
We walk out through the hotel and into the late afternoon. Her truck is where she left it. She digs out her keys.
"It's a long drive back," I say.
She looks down the road through the valley. "It is. But the scenery makes it worth it."
"Text me when you're home."
She blinks. "There's really no need, it's a safe drive, I don’t want to bother—"
"Text me."
She goes quiet. She looks at me and then she nods in agreement. I feel warm happiness spread through me.
I watch her reach the bottom of the hotel road and disappear around the bend. Then I go back inside and work through the inauguration guest list, the catering logistics and a million other things that need my attention.
I am focused, thorough and I keep my phone face-up on the desk the entire time.
It chimes at six forty-eight.
Home safe. Informing you as requested :)
I'm smiling at my phone like an idiot.
And I can’t help myself from texting back, even though I shouldn’t.