Chapter 11
That afternoon, Cole stood at the front of the church hall.
He watched the faces around the long tables as residents peppered him with questions about the resort’s water usage.
He’d organized these smaller community meetings after the initial presentation, hoping to address concerns in a less intimidating setting.
Twenty people were here today, most of them familiar by now.
But each time he held a meeting, he wondered if the people who came knew anything about the sabotage.
“What about runoff during spring melt?” Dennis Carter leaned forward, his weathered hands clasped on the table. “That’s a lot of impervious surface you’re putting in.”
Cole pulled his attention back to the question, explaining the detention ponds and native plantings designed for Montana’s seasonal patterns. Dennis seemed satisfied, but Cole noticed the man’s wife whispering to their neighbor.
Was it innocent conversation, or something else?
He hated this new suspicion that crept into every interaction. For weeks, he’d been building relationships in Sapphire Bay, learning names, and remembering details about people’s lives and businesses. Now he couldn’t stop analyzing their words for hidden meaning, and their faces for signs of guilt.
Stevie Hendricks asked about the construction noise. Cole answered, but his mind tracked back to the man’s earlier comment about property values. Had there been an edge to his tone? An underlying resentment?
“We appreciate your willingness to hear our concerns,” Sarah McAdams said as the meeting wound down. She’d been asking thoughtful questions. But Cole remembered she’d attended nearly every meeting, always sitting toward the back, and always watching.
Just like he was watching her now.
The residents began gathering their coats. Cole shook hands, thanked them for coming, and assured them the next meeting would address timeline specifics. All while that uncomfortable awareness pulsed beneath his skin.
He’d spent decades reading people in business negotiations, sensing when someone was holding back or harboring reservations.
Those skills had served him well in development.
But this was different. These weren’t competitors or investors.
They were neighbors, the people he wanted to build community with.
And one of them, or someone they knew, had deliberately damaged his equipment.
“Cole, do you have a minute?” Mabel Terry approached him as the last residents filed out. She wore a purple cardigan that clashed cheerfully with her orange scarf, and her gray hair was styled in the same practical bob she’d had at every meeting. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Cole’s guard went up automatically, then he forced himself to relax.
Mabel and her husband owned the general store, and she’d been nothing but welcoming since his first visit.
She’d introduced him to half the business owners in town, recommended contractors, even shared her daughter’s cookie recipe when he’d mentioned wanting to serve local specialties at the resort restaurant.
She was also, from what he’d observed, the clearing house for every piece of information that moved through Sapphire Bay.
“Of course.” Cole gestured to the empty chairs. “What’s on your mind?”
Mabel settled into a seat with a soft sigh. “These meetings must be exhausting for you. There are so many questions and concerns.”
“It’s important to address them,” Cole said as he sat across from her. He was suddenly aware of how practiced his responses had become. How automatic.
“You handle it well.” Mabel’s brown eyes were shrewd behind her glasses. “Better than some developers we’ve dealt with over the years. You actually listen.”
“I try to.”
“No, you do.” She patted his hand briefly, a grandmotherly gesture that made something in his chest tighten. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. There’s been some talk around town, and I thought you should know what people are saying.”
Cole’s pulse quickened. “About the sabotage?”
“Among other things.” Mabel smoothed her cardigan. “People are worried, Cole. Not just about the resort changing Sapphire Bay, but about what the vandalism means. It makes folks uneasy when equipment gets damaged like that.”
“I’m uneasy about it too,” Cole admitted.
“Of course you are.” Mabel’s gaze softened with sympathy. “But I’m wondering if you understand how the community is perceiving all of this. The resort, I mean. The whole project.”
It was the question Cole had been avoiding asking directly, afraid of what the answer might be. “How do you think it’s perceived?”
Mabel took a moment, choosing her words carefully.
“There’s a split, if I’m being honest. You’ve got folks like Dennis and Sarah who are cautiously supportive.
They see the potential for jobs, for bringing in tourism dollars that benefit local businesses.
My store does better when there are visitors in town, and I won’t pretend otherwise. ”
Cole nodded, waiting.
“Then you’ve got the other side. People who’ve seen what happened to other Montana towns when development came in.
Property taxes go up, housing gets expensive, and the character of the place changes.
” Mabel’s fingers worried at a loose thread on her cardigan.
“They’re not bad people, Cole. They’re just scared of losing what they love. ”
“I understand that.”
“I believe you do.” Mabel met his eyes directly. “But understanding doesn’t always bridge the gap, does it? Some folks are going to oppose this resort no matter what you say or do. The question is whether that opposition might extend to... other actions.”
The careful phrasing didn’t disguise her meaning. Cole leaned forward slightly. “Do you think someone from Sapphire Bay is responsible for the sabotage?”
“I think,” Mabel said slowly, “that when people feel powerless, they sometimes do desperate things. And I think there are folks in this community who feel very powerless right now.”
It wasn’t a direct answer, but it confirmed what Cole had been wondering. The sabotage wasn’t random vandalism or teenagers looking for trouble. It was someone with a specific agenda.
“Have you heard anything?” he asked. “Any rumors about who might be involved?”
Mabel hesitated. She was being asked to violate the unspoken code of small-town discretion, to potentially betray a neighbor’s confidence.
“I haven’t heard anything specific,” she said finally.
“But I’ll tell you what I have noticed. There’s been more talk in the store lately.
More people bringing up the resort, asking questions about your background, and your other projects.
” She paused. “Someone’s been doing a lot of research, Cole, and digging into your past.”
The hair on the back of Cole’s neck prickled. “Who?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve had three different people ask me what I know about your developments in Colorado and Wyoming.
There are questions about whether those resorts kept their promises to the local communities.
” Mabel’s voice turned gentle. “I told them what I thought was true based on my time with you. That you seem like a man who keeps his word.”
“Thank you for that.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Mabel stood, gathering her purse. “Because here’s the thing, Cole. In a town this size, when people start asking questions, it usually means something’s brewing. And given what happened to your equipment, I’d be very careful about who I trusted.”
Cole rose as well, his mind already spinning through implications. “Even you?”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Mabel said. “I like what you’ve proposed.”
Cole shook Mabel’s hand. “I appreciate your willingness to talk with me.”
“Just be careful,” Mabel told him. “Whatever you’re planning to do about the sabotage, whoever you’re planning to involve, remember that Sapphire Bay is a small place. Loyalties run deep, sometimes deeper than logic or fairness.” Mabel left, her orange scarf bright against the falling snow.
Cole stood alone in the empty church hall, surrounded by folding chairs and the faint smell of coffee, feeling more uncertain than he had in years.
He’d come to Sapphire Bay hoping to build something meaningful, to finally create a legacy beyond another luxury property with his name attached. But legacy required roots, and roots required trust.
And right now, Cole didn’t know who he could trust with either.