Ms. Fortune

Chapter 1

It was a dark and stormy night.

No, really. It was eerily dark, and the storm outside was raging and inhospitable.

It was pitch-black inside the remote mountain lodge because of a blown transformer, thanks to the late fall storm. It was an ideal setting for a creepy slasher movie or a tense thriller novel. The entire side of the mountain was without power, making the lightning that filled the night sky even more vibrant and alive. There was an ominous feeling inside the rustic lodge as shadows spread along the walls, due to the flickering candlelight. It felt like they were about to come alive with each zap of electricity through the sky. The thunder that accompanied the brilliant display was loud enough to rattle walls and shake the foundation of the building that had long sat proudly on the side of the mountain, as if it was always meant to be there.

My grandparents’ ski lodge and the small cabins surrounding it had survived blizzards and fire. The property stood strong in the face of flooding and the threat of both landslides and avalanche warnings. It even resisted crumbling into the rushing river at the base of the mountain when it was left abandoned by the people who were supposed to care for it after the beloved owners passed away, one after the other. It remained sturdy and unchanged while the small ski town not too far away was overrun with rich investors and wealthy weekend warriors. This lodge, on the side of the craggy bluff, was one of the few remaining parts of the area that hadn’t been polished up and modernized to draw in tourist dollars. It was a relic. A piece of history. Which meant it would take more than a flashy storm to shut it down. But logic never stood a chance against my overactive imagination.

I pictured all sorts of wild things jumping out from the dark as I knocked on the door of the last occupied room I hadn’t checked on yet in the main building. I offered the young woman, who peeked through the crack in the door, some candles and a rechargeable lantern to alleviate the darkness. I probably should’ve used a flashlight to make my rounds while checking on the guests, but a candle felt so much more atmospheric. I should aim for reassuring instead of spooky vibes, but I was a girl who loved a good aesthetic moment.

I forced a smile and fought the urge to light up my face the way I had when I was a kid, telling ghost stories around a campfire. Now I was a business owner. I needed to keep the guests happy and make sure they liked the lodge enough to return, preferably with family and friends. This was my soft opening before I went full force into the high season. I’d just started taking bookings, and I was doing my best to get the place back to what it once had been after a long period of neglect. I’d expected some of these hiccups to happen along the way.

“The power should be back up and running soon. The maintenance guy is already working on getting our generator going. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. I know it’s scary to be this high in elevation during a storm. It’s even wilder to be so close to the lightning that the electricity makes your hair stand up straight.” I tried to make light of the situation.

It was currently the offseason, and I couldn’t afford to give refunds to every guest who might leave because they’d never experienced a mountain storm before. I knew the weather was intense, but it was mostly harmless as long as everyone stayed safely inside and rode it out from the comfort of their moderately priced room.

Another rumble of thunder rattled the roof and partially drowned out my placating words.

The young woman snatched the light from my hand, letting the candles drop to the floor as she coldly stated, “We’re checking out as early as possible in the morning. I want to leave right away, but my boyfriend doesn’t think it’s safe to drive down the mountain in this weather. Nowhere on your website does it say this lodge is located on the side of a mountain and is a dangerous place to be. We thought we were going to stay in a cute ski chalet, not somewhere that feels like it was hand built by someone with a rusty chain saw and too much time on their hands. I could sue you for false advertising.”

I stared at her without saying a word until she slammed the door closed in my face. I knew there was no point in telling her that not only did the website mention the remote location of the lodge, but that it was also a key selling point for visitors who wanted to avoid the crowds that flocked to the small mountain town during the high season.

My grandfather had built the lodge with his own two hands, long before the area turned into a popular vacation destination. He and my grandmother used to spend winters here when they were younger, and they fell in love with the area and the lifestyle. They had both left their big-kid corporate jobs before my father was born and set out to create a place that they could not only call home, but could also share with others looking for a high-altitude escape.

If you came to this part of the state and wanted to experience life like the locals, including knowing the best hidden ski runs and prime backcountry skiing and snowboarding locations, this handcrafted lodge was where you needed to be. If you were visiting to look cute in your brand-new cold weather gear, which you’d purchased as a prop for social media content, while sitting at the trendy craft-beer brewery your entire trip to see and be seen, then this lodge most definitely wasn’t the place for you. It was clear which category the angry guest and her boyfriend fell into.

Unfortunately, when it was offseason, I couldn’t be as picky about who I rented the limited number of rooms in the lodge to. Money was money, and if I wanted to keep my grandparents’ dream alive, I would do whatever it took, including sucking up to the rudest and most annoying guests. It was my least favorite part of reopening the lodge, but playing nice wouldn’t kill me. I refused to think about what might happen if I couldn’t make ends meet and was forced to sell the property to one of the real estate conglomerates that was forever hounding me to let it go.

It made my stomach hurt when I thought about the place I loved so much being stripped of its heart and soul and actually becoming a cute and trendy ski chalet.

I passed another visiting couple standing on the large wraparound deck, staring at the show taking place in the sky with rapt attention. The husband had a high-tech camera sitting on a tripod with a lens, which looked like it had cost a fortune, aimed into the night. I wasn’t sure he would capture what he intended considering how dark it was, but he was snapping away while the wife whispered in awe that she’d never seen anything so beautiful in her lifetime.

I smiled at them and asked if they needed anything. Once again, I promised the generator would be operational within the hour. I assured both I was happy to accommodate them however I could for the inconvenience. They cheekily asked me to set up a s’mores station at the firepit on the deck so they could continue to watch the storm and enjoy a nice midnight snack.

They were my favorite type of guests to have. People who were truly out to enjoy the scenery and what living on the edge of the mountain was really like. When I’d been younger, this was the type of vacationer I could pretend I was friends with when I took on the task of playing tour guide. I made a mental note to offer them a discount if they ever booked a return visit.

I eagerly agreed to put together a snack, but not a moment later, the sky opened up, and a deluge of water crashed down on the wooden building and pinged angrily off the metal roof. We turned and bolted inside in unison. No one escaped getting soaked, and my moody candlelight was instantly obliterated.

I asked the couple to wait while I grabbed some towels. Fortunately, they were easygoing and looked at the evening’s events as one big adventure. I asked my only bellhop—my closest neighbor’s teenage son—to help them back to their room since the walkways got slippery when they were wet.

I pondered if I should go to the kitchen and throw together something to eat alongside the s’mores, using anything that was perishable, and offer it to the remaining guests.

My new handyman was very pretty to look at, but his skill level left a lot to be desired. I wasn’t sure he would actually get the power on before everything in the freezer melted and the stuff in the fridge went bad. He never balked at any request I threw at him. He diligently tried to fix whatever was on that particular day’s list of to-dos. But more often than not, I found myself following behind him and redoing or tweaking his projects. I knew I should fire him—or at least put him on probation until he learned more. The guy worked for peanuts, showed up for every shift on time, and never complained about anything I asked him to do. Aside from him not knowing how to do his job properly, he was the perfect employee. He had fallen out of the sky and into my lap when I desperately needed help. Which meant that even though I often considered him to be useless, I couldn’t bring myself to cut him loose.

I picked my way toward the kitchen, avoiding hazards that would trip up anyone else in the total darkness. I knew how to get around this building with my eyes closed. Growing up, I’d spent many summer and winter storms watching the sky while waiting for the power to come back on and was fond of all the things that made the building and location charming and comforting. But that didn’t mean the building and weather weren’t rough and inconvenient enough to force a delicate guest to request a refund. In many people’s minds, the quirks of an old building in a remote location made it difficult to compete with a snazzy, new hotel, outfitted with all of life’s little luxuries.

Even my young bellhop, Dex, often bemoaned that he would prefer to work down in the closest town, Blue River, rather than next door, but his parents refused to let him. They didn’t trust a teenage boy to drive up and down the mountain pass in bad weather, and they knew it was easier to monitor him if he worked for me. I needed the help, which meant I had another employee I was grateful to get the bare minimum from during most of his shifts. He spent more time playing on his phone than he did helping people with their luggage.

I felt my way along the wall until I reached the wine rack. The piece was an antique, filled with a mix of high-end and cheap bottles. I kept the expensive stuff for the guests, and the affordable stuff for when my notoriously awful luck reared its ugly head.

It was never lost on me that my ever-optimistic father had convinced my nihilistic mother to name me Lucky.

I’d proven to be anything but since my conception.

I was an accidental baby. The product of two horny and impatient teenagers who had let lust overrun common sense. It wasn’t like I was unwanted by either of them at the time, but I did make life harder for everyone involved when I came along. They decided fairly quickly that they didn’t want to share their youth, and their time, with me. That was a hard truth that followed me well into adulthood. I was forever reminded that I was the type of woman who made things difficult for myself and others despite my best intentions.

I’d grown up feeling like a burden to those around me. Everyone, aside from my father’s parents, made me feel like I was a walking, talking jinx. Or a problem that needed to be solved. It was a cruel joke that my given name was Lucky Fortune, considering I had been blessed with neither good luck nor good fortune.

I was getting ready to open the wine bottle by flashlight when my cell phone rang. I didn’t have to look at the screen to know it was my mom or my dad calling to check up on me. Despite being reckless teenagers with an unplanned infant, the two of them were still together after all these years, and remained madly in love with one another. They had one of the happiest marriages I’d ever witnessed. Their enjoyment of each other bordered on being unhealthy, meaning that my parents were obsessed with each other. Which was cute and romantic—until it became clear there was no room in their relationship for anyone else. Including me.

I was always an afterthought. Never feeling like part of their two-person family.

I didn’t know what would’ve happened to me as a child if my grandparents hadn’t stepped in and taken over my day-to-day care. They had made sure I had a roof over my head and did their best to raise me into a decent human being, even if I often came second on their priority list after the resort. They put in the effort to show I was loved, just not as much as the property I was trying to preserve. I never wanted for anything, other than someone’s time and attention. I appreciated what it looked like to be loved unconditionally because of how my parents loved each other, and the way my grandparents loved this mountain.

I had a home and stability while my parents wandered in and out of my life as it suited them. My grandparents made me feel important because I was part of the thing that mattered the most. They let it be known I would always have a place to call home, and that I was the person they trusted most with their prized possession. I never questioned whether they loved me, but sometimes, I was uncertain if they loved me as their granddaughter, or as their number one employee.

Regardless of how they viewed me, my grandfather, in particular, would always be my hero and have my undying devotion because he was absolutely indifferent to my chronically bad luck.

My parents treated me like I was the plague, and their love came with so many conditions that I lost track of them all before I turned six. If my mother had had her way, she would’ve named me Jinx instead of Lucky. Having someone in my life who didn’t act like I was going to hex the whole family was wildly important to me.

Now that I’d moved back to the small mountain town in Colorado where I’d grown up and refurbished my grandparents’ legacy, my parents made it a habit to check up on me more frequently. They made no secret that they wanted me to sell the lodge and split the payout with them. The money from a sale would continue to support them, as they lived life like they were still teenagers without a care in the world. Too bad for them, my grandparents had left the lodge, cabins, and the land it was all on to me when they passed.

My father was an only child, and my extended family on that side was sparse and spread all over the globe. My grandparents—especially my grandfather—knew my mom and dad were inherently selfish and never wanted them to get their hands on the property they’d put their everything into. I was the person he’d trusted to keep this place as it was always meant to be and to protect it from threats, both inside and outside the family. I took the job seriously.

I tapped the phone screen to accept the call and added another hefty splash of wine to the coffee mug in front of me. I didn’t bother to find a wineglass in the dark because, with my luck, I would send the entire set crashing to the ground.

“Is the power out again on the mountain? Do you have guests staying there? You’re going to get terrible reviews if you keep operating the lodge without updating everything, Lucky. It’s a money pit.”

I listened to my mother’s sharp words and didn’t bother to frown or sigh in response.

Her refrain was always the same. It was going to cost a fortune to keep the lodge up and running properly. I was too young to saddle myself with such an enormous investment. Wouldn’t it be better to sell the place and take the money and invest it in my genuine passions?

But God forbid I asked the woman if she had a clue what my true passions might be. I knew for a fact that she couldn’t answer. I didn’t think she even remembered what my middle name was.

I snorted a laugh and looked down at the glowing phone through narrowed eyes. “I don’t have a middle name. You forgot to give me one.” It was very off-topic from her tirade, but I couldn’t stop the complaint from spilling out.

“What?” My mother’s shrill voice broke through the darkness at the same time the kitchen was suddenly illuminated by the storm outside. “Are you listening to me at all? Your father and I are concerned about you.”

I took a sip of the wine and made a face at the bitter taste. I looked longingly at the expensive bottles but refrained from cracking one open. I knew I would regret it later if I gave in to my impulse.

“The entire mountain lost power. It happens during bad weather. That’s why we have a generator. You know that. You and Dad grew up here. It’s a price you have to pay to live in and visit paradise. I’ve checked on all the guests, and everyone is fine. Don’t make it sound like they’re suffering and being neglected. I know what I’m doing, Mom. I’ve been doing it since I was old enough to help out around here. Thanks for your concern.”

I tapped the edge of the coffee mug with my nails and lifted my eyebrows as I asked, “How did you know the power was out? Aren’t you and Dad in Hawaii right now? Or is it Cancun this month?”

Wherever there was a beach and a laid-back atmosphere, my parents gravitated to that destination with no plan or purpose in mind. For them, it was constantly spring break, and life was nothing more than one big party. Thank goodness I was also an only child. I couldn’t imagine trying to constantly explain their wanderlust and make excuses for their neglect to a younger sibling.

“Of course we monitor what’s going on back home. We worry about you being on the mountain all by yourself. I still can’t believe you moved back there after spending so many years in Denver. What’s the appeal of that tiny town in the offseason? You’re the only person who views it as a year-round oasis. How are you supposed to meet someone and fall in love in a town full of tourists and seasonal residents? You know all the locals, and none of them are worth the time of day in your eyes, or you would have settled down with one of them forever ago. Your father and I just want you to be happy the same way we are.”

I silently scoffed and rolled my eyes at the shadows sliding across the walls. The only way to be happy like my parents were was to forget about everyone else on the planet and focus solely on myself. I would never be that selfish and single-minded. It was no surprise she forgot that the people who had raised me—because she couldn’t be bothered—also considered the lodge and this mountain heaven on earth.

“I always planned to come home when I was finished with school. I told you that when Granddad got sick.”

My grandmother had died right before I started college, and my grandfather passed away a few months after I graduated. My plan was to move back to Blue River and take over the lodge with a fancy education and degree in hand. However, I was delayed by a bout of my worst luck to date. I got tangled up with the wrong man, and his love turned my life upside down. As a result, the lodge had sat empty for nearly five years, and the property had been neglected until I freed myself from the lethal love trap I’d fallen into.

It was a slow, agonizing process, bringing both myself and my grandparents’ legacy back to life. But I was doing it. Step by determined step. My parents should have been proud of me, not trying to hinder my slow growth and potential. I was painfully aware that day would never come.

“Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing, Mom.”

“So stubborn. You’ve always been that way. You never do what’s easiest. You always have to make everything as difficult as possible.”

I couldn’t hold back a sigh. It wasn’t like I needed a weekly hint that I disrupted my parents’ happy-go-lucky life by simply existing.

I downed the rest of the wine and told her, “Thanks for checking in on me. I’ve got things under control.”

“That’s what you always say.”

The pointed reminder rankled me. Exactly how she had known it would.

I said a rushed goodbye and gathered the stuff to make s’mores now that the pounding rain had lightened. I wasn’t sure if the adventurous couple still wanted to ride out the storm on the deck, but I wanted to be prepared for anything because I was certain the couple in the last room was going to hightail it out of here as soon as they could. I needed as many positive reviews as I could get to counteract the inevitable terrible ones and wasn’t above bribery to ensure getting them.

As I was passing by the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the deck and off into the mountain valley where the Blue River rushed below, a flash of lightning lit up the main floor of the lodge and reflected off the water. I stepped closer to the glass as something moving down by the water flickered in my peripheral vision. At first, I thought it was nothing more than a deer or some other wild animal stopping for a drink. When another lightning bolt split the sky, revealing a slight glimpse, I realized the shape was closer to something human. When I squinted against the darkness, I could make out what looked like a larger person carrying a smaller person on their back. I vaguely wondered why anyone would be out in this weather, and how they’d managed to get down to the river basin in the rain. This area was hard to traverse on a clear day. No one in their right mind should be next to the water in these conditions because there was no guarantee the river wouldn’t rise and flood the valley at a moment’s notice.

I broke a piece of chocolate off and shoved it in my mouth while pressing closer to the windows. I watched the shadowy figures struggle to the river’s edge with each lightning strike, then gasped in shock when the bigger one dropped the smaller one off their back and directly into the moving water. Immediately, all the dessert ingredients in my hands fell to the floor, and I rushed to the door leading out onto the deck.

I didn’t know what I planned to do. I was too far away to see anything clearly, and it was impossible to get down to the river before the smaller figure was swept away by the flowing current. Belatedly, I paused with my hand on the door, realizing it wasn’t the smartest move to let whoever was down there know I’d witnessed the chilling and suspicious act.

Plus, it was dark and cloudy. With the rain, it was entirely possible I hadn’t seen what I thought I saw. I let my imagination run wild more often than not, and I was already picturing a scene from a scary movie before I caught sight of anything being amiss. Maybe my mind had been playing tricks on me to distract me from the unhappy guests and the fact that the power was still out.

I swore as I stomped on the marshmallows that fell out of my hands, causing the bag to pop open, sending them flying across the floor. I cursed again while I stooped over to clean the mess up in the dark. It took longer than it should’ve, and I smacked my head on the corner of a table trying to fish the last one out from where it’d landed.

While standing and rubbing the sore spot, I accidentally knocked over a lamp. The antique glass shade shattered, and the light bulb exploded into a million pieces. That disaster was much harder to tidy up when I could barely see what I was doing, and I cut my palm on a piece of broken glass.

It was a downward spiral of mishaps that had me ready to pull my hair out in frustration.

Just as I convinced myself that what I had seen out the window was nothing more than an illusion brought on by too much work and too little rest, and while I reminded myself that I had actual problems that needed my attention, the lights in the lodge came back on, making the interior of the building glow like a spotlight. I knew good and well whoever was down in the valley could see me standing there, looking in their direction. I could no longer see out, but they most definitely could see in, and I might as well tattoo a bull’s eye on my forehead, indicating I had seen something I wasn’t intended to.

It appeared my useless maintenance worker had finally figured out how to do his job, but not until I had a knot on my forehead and a slice across my hand.

That was just my luck.