Chapter 3
Chapter Three
A Conference Conundrum
EMILY
“ W e could have just gotten a hotel room in Denver and saved ourselves the trouble.” Christine was officially traveled out.
“We’d miss all the panels and workshops,” I pointed out, my eyes fixed on the ever-changing landscape outside the window of the shuttle.
“I really want to not be enclosed inside a metal tube anymore. This is why I don’t leave home, Em.” Christine was a fiction writer with a long backlist of titles to her name. Though I didn’t aspire to write romance, she was kind of my idol. She was, however, a little bit reclusive when left to her own devices.
“We’ll be there soon,” I told my friend. To be honest, I was ready to be done traveling too. The flight from San Diego hadn’t been bad but trying to find our luggage and then our shuttle amidst the insanity of the Denver airport had been a lot. Plus, we weren’t the only writers catching the shuttle. The thing was stuffed, and though I’d always thought most writers were introverted like Christine, it didn’t seem to be true. Many of them seemed loud and chattery.
There were eight of us on the little bus headed for Kasper Ridge, and it seemed like the other six all knew each other from somewhere. They’d begun talking like old friends the second we’d bumped into each other at the airport curb, and the conversation hadn’t waned in the three hours we’d been en route. The other writers had been friendly and said hello when we’d first met up, but now they were involved in conversation about their own projects and mutual friends, and the two of us were largely forgotten at the back of the bus. I didn’t blame Christine for being worn out. The squeals and laughter were a lot, even for a confirmed extrovert like me.
“I can’t believe how beautiful it is up here.” I continued watching the world slide by through the windows, catching an occasional glimpse of the sprawling mountaintops in the distance through a gap in the trees. Mostly though, the winding road up the mountain was vision enough. It felt like it had been carved into the mountainside, towering pine trees shooting up on both sides of the two-lane highway, shading the route as the late afternoon sun drifted downward.
“It’s hard to see anything with the constant twisting and turning.” Christine looked a bit green.
“Can’t be much farther,” I assured her again, but my own stomach was unsettled too. It had been easy to forget during the practicalities and logistics of travel, but in just a little while, I’d be at the Kasper Ridge Resort—where Archie Kasper lived. I’d be in close proximity to the man who’d changed my family forever, the man my father hated. I still hadn’t really figured out how I felt about that, about him. I didn’t share my father’s one-sided hatred, I knew that. But I did want the chance to meet him, to understand my feelings for myself, even if I never mentioned who I was. And I didn’t think I would—I needed to get my story first.
“Fifteen minutes,” the driver called back. The announcement had the effect of silencing the noisy group ahead of us, and the last moments of the ride were thankfully quiet.
Finally, the shuttle pulled up outside an enormous structure with a huge overhang built to shield arriving cars from weather. The whole resort spread out in what looked like two wings, all wood and glass and dark iron accents. It was like a log cabin had married a skyscraper, and the entire thing had watched “The Shining” before getting fixated on the Hallmark Channel around the holidays.
Twinkle lights were flickering across the front of the resort, and enormous wreaths of fall foliage and evergreen hung at each of the sliding glass doors.
“Wow,” Christine said, standing on the curb and taking it all in.
“Holy shirtballs!” One of the other writers squealed.
“Well said.” I picked up my suitcase when it was deposited on the curb and tipped the driver. “Thank you.”
“Should we go check in?” I asked Christine. We’d booked a room together to save money, but I was guessing Christine probably wished she had her own space about now. I was wishing for my own space by this point too. The thought of seeing Archie Kasper was suddenly terrifying. Was he even here? Did he hang out around the hotel all the time? Maybe Dad was right and he just enjoyed the fruits of the resorts operations, spent his time lounging around somewhere else.
“Yes, let’s get our room.”
Like the outside, the hotel lobby was decorated in a fall theme, vibrant deep reds and golds everywhere in the form of garlands, gourds, and even a glorious tree in one corner that stretched at least twenty feet toward the high ceilings.
“Can you imagine what it must look like at Christmas?” I asked my friend in a reverent whisper.
She didn’t answer, intent instead on finding the right line to stand in to check us in. She’d booked the room, so it was in her name only, and I’d promised to pay her half at the end of the week.
The lobby was packed with people, and I could see that the adjacent bar also appeared to be stuffed to the gills. The official conference programming didn’t start until the following morning, and while I was pretty sure Christine had plans to isolate in our room and try to rebuild her enthusiasm for peopling, I was going to look around and see if I could get the lay of the land a bit. My editor had dangled the cover story in my face, but securing it depended on getting to the bottom of the crazy treasure hunt Archie Kasper had supposedly inherited with the hotel.
The woman who checked us in was friendly—not to mention beautiful—her name tag said “Annalee.” The other staff member working the desk was named Antonio, and I wondered if the resort had some kind of fixation on the first letter of the alphabet when it came to staffing. The Kaspers were Archie and Aubrey, according to everything I’d read.
There was a wait for the two elevators, so we left our suitcases to be brought up by the staff and Christine and I made our way up the grand staircase behind the reception desk and then up the next three flights of stairs. The going up the stairs was slow, but eventually, we found our room and Christine’s joy was almost a living thing bounding around inside the room with us.
A weight lifted from my shoulders as I stepped into the little living area and walked to peer out the huge window facing the back of the resort. The mountain reared up behind us in the distance, a ski lift dotting the hillside, which wasn’t yet covered in snow. Our room was near the center of the resort, but I could see that it spanned to each side, and outside there was a massive courtyard beneath each wing, dotted with firepits and Adirondack chairs. One side also held what looked like the outdoor part of the restaurant, furnished with chairs, tables, and heaters on stands.
The firepits glowed merrily, and party lights were strung generously around the patios, making the whole scene look like something out of a holiday card. The only thing missing was the snow.
My mind was spinning, as if Archie Kasper might burst through the door at any second and shout, “Boo!” I knew it was ridiculous, but when you’d spent years fixated on a name, on a person you’d never even met, they became a specter in the shadows. And being in the physical location where I suspected my ghost actually lived had my nerves skittering directionless within me.
Christine had immediately gone to the bedroom, and was already nestled against the headboard of one of the queen beds with her laptop open on a pillow.
I stepped into the doorway of the room, still cataloging the luxuries surrounding me suddenly. This place was incredible.
“Want to go explore with me?” I asked Christine, needing to wander a bit, and figuring there was a chance she’d be up for it.
“Are you kidding? I’m not going out there again until I have to.” She grinned. “I promise I’ll be all charged up for breakfast and workshops tomorrow, okay?”
“Dinner?” I asked hopefully.
Christine held up a protein bar and a bottle of water.
I nodded, part of me glad for the chance to explore a bit on my own. Christine knew about my cover story opportunity, but I hadn’t told her about my ulterior motive for attending this conference and wasn’t sure I wanted to. The odds were good that there really was nothing for me to find here that hadn’t been covered in the few articles that had been written about the accident. Archie Kasper was probably just a guy who’d moved on with his life after a horrible tragedy, and I honestly respected him a bit for that. I imagined it would be just as hard to move past being so immediately involved in someone’s death as it would be to have lost someone. I had to admit though, there was a part of me that ruffled at the idea anyone could blithely go on after what had happened to my brother. Maybe there was a bit of my parents’ bitterness still inside me. Or maybe it was just grief.
Either way, my goal in exploring was to see if maybe I could stumble upon something that would give me a clue about where to find out more—about Archie, or about the treasure hunt my editor was so fascinated by. It certainly wouldn’t happen if I holed up in our room.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit,” I told her, pocketing my key card and heading for the door. I tugged on my jacket and stepped out into the hallway.
The resort was enormous, and I spent the next two hours exploring every nook and cranny. There were the usual things—a gift shop, a restaurant plus a cafeteria-style area that I suspected catered to skiers and snowboarders during the ski season—I grabbed a quick sandwich there and ate as I watched the other writers chat and move around me. A few smiled and said hello, but there was a muted air about the attendees moving around, like we were all saving up our social energy for tomorrow, when the conference would really begin. There was the gorgeous bar off the lobby, and plenty of tucked away areas to just sit and stare out the windows at the mountain behind us. But there were unexpected things too—a bowling alley, an arcade, a movie theater, and a spa, all tucked down one side of the property.
And unsurprisingly, there were writers almost everywhere. I did spend a half hour in the bar, sipping the resort’s premium whiskey, which the bartender proudly explained that his brother made back in Maryland. The bottle sported an image of a little disheveled cat with his back legs in a wheelchair contraption. It was fittingly called “Half Cat Whiskey,” which I wasn’t sure I was supposed to find funny. Especially when the bartender went on to tell me that the cat was real and lived at the distillery and had a ridiculous name: Mr. Fluffynuts.
Eventually, I tired of negotiating for space everywhere I went. I’d seen no signs of the resort’s owner, and unsurprisingly there were no treasure or clues lying around, and I wasn’t even sure where to begin with that. My shoulders slid down a bit as exhaustion and disappointment settled on them, and I wandered back up the stairs, passing my floor and heading for the very top of the resort. Had I really thought this story would write itself so easily? That I’d just show up here and be invited into a treasure quest that supposedly had been going on for years? The cover story was a long shot—I’d known that up front. And I still had the original story I’d pitched to fall back on, but my career-making shot felt like it was already dwindling away and I’d barely arrived here.
With no particular destination in mind, I wandered a hallway all the way to the other wing, and began descending again, only to find the stairs were closed after the fifth floor. I stood for a moment, contemplating my next move in front of the “under construction” sign, when a deep voice sounded from my side.
“Hi there. Can I help you get somewhere?”
I swung around, feeling suddenly guilty, like I’d been caught somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. “Ah, hi. Um, no...” My nervous laugh chased the nonsense out of my mouth. “Sorry, I was just exploring.”
The handsome face before me broke into a half-smile, the blue eyes twinkling for a split second before taking a darker, more serious cast again. “I get it. This place was made to be explored,” he said.
He watched me as I looked up at him, something familiar in the deep rich mahogany of his hair, the square cut of his jawline.
“I’m Archie Kasper,” he said, offering me a hand to shake.
He might as well have slapped me, and I stepped back without meaning to. “Oh. Uh.” Brilliant. This was why I focused on the written word.
His smile fell along with the outstretched hand, and now the dark red brows lowered over those cloudy blue eyes.
“Sorry, I’m just surprised is all. I’m Emily,” I said, regaining myself. “Kasper. So you own the resort?”
The half-smile was back, along with a dimple to one side of it, and I forced myself to listen to him talk, even though my father’s voice was drowning out most of what was in my head. This was the man responsible for my brother’s death. This was the bad guy in every story I’d been told.
But the man in front of me didn’t look evil. He looked...haunted, if I was being honest. Something in his eyes just didn’t quite connect, and there was worry etched in lines around his sculpted lips.
“My sister and me, yeah,” he was saying. “We’ve been rebuilding it for a few years now.” He gestured toward the closed staircase. “This is mostly the staff wing, so it’s the last to get any attention.”
I glanced around, realizing I might be somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” I’d wanted a chance to meet Archie Kasper, but I hoped it wouldn’t be while he reprimanded me for being in a staff-only area of the resort.
“It’s fine,” he said, easing my fears, and without speaking our intent, we both began walking down the long hallway, leaving the stairs behind us.
Thoughts flung wildly through my head. This was my chance—but what should I say? Did I ask about the accident, tell him who I was? No, if I did that, I’d probably kill all chances of getting the cover story. I needed to learn about the hunt. About the resort. And then, I’d find a way to tell him who I was.
“So you and your sister inherited this resort, right?”
“Yeah, her name is Aubrey,” he said. “We spent a lot of time here as kids. When we were little, Aubrey and I used to run wild all through this place.”
“I bet,” I told him. “I can imagine this was like some kind of crazy wonderland for little kids.”
“Especially when it was starting to really show signs of age and there weren’t a lot of guests,” Archie agreed, a wistful look crossing his face. “Are you here for the conference or just unlucky enough to have booked the wrong week for a quiet visit?”
I laughed. “No, I’m part of the problem, I guess. Who knew writers were such a noisy bunch?”
He grinned, the expression arriving in a flash and then disappearing just as quickly. “It’s fine. That’s the whole point of the place. To let people relax and gather. It would have made my uncle happy to see it so full of life.”
We reached an elevator and Archie paused, turning to me. “Anything else you wanted to explore?”
I thought about all the questions I had, but Archie seemed like maybe I’d caught him in the middle of something. He certainly hadn’t been expecting to be interviewed late at night in some unauthorized staff wing. I’d ask the front desk to set up a proper interview the next day, I figured. “No, I should probably get back to my room.”
He nodded and pressed the call button. “What floor?”
“Fourth, but in the other wing.”
We stepped together into the elevator, which arrived just then, surprisingly empty. “Earlier we couldn’t get an elevator, so we took the stairs.”
The doors slid shut and Archie pushed the button for the fourth floor. I glanced at his handsome profile, trying to find the barest hint of something malicious or entitled in the way he held himself. But it wasn’t there. Instead, he was just a guy, a resort owner helping a guest. And of course I knew almost nothing about him, but I had a feeling being near him. It was as if he gave off an air of sadness, of regret. Or was that just something I was assigning him based on what I knew?
The elevator began a smooth descent, but then jolted and I heard myself gasp as adrenaline shot through me. The jolt was followed by a sudden drop and then a loud cranking groan as the elevator stopped.
“Are we...um?” I stared at Archie Kasper, working hard to push down the terror that was still shot gunning through my veins.
“Stuck, yeah. That’s why you couldn’t get an elevator earlier. This one’s been acting up lately. I guess I should have mentioned the possibility before we got in.”
“Yeah, maybe!” It flew from my lips, but the second it was out, I realized I was being rude. The elevator wasn’t his fault. I glanced at him as the fear in me dwindled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
He looked over at me and the deep eyes softened. “It’s okay. The elevator is perfectly safe. Just not perfectly reliable. The maintenance guys are on-site tonight, though. Shouldn’t be long. I really thought they’d gotten it fixed.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and jabbed at it. It rang a second later.
He sighed and looked at me with that lopsided smile again. “My sister. I text her, she calls me. Normally it’s annoying, but...” he trailed off, pulling the phone to his ear.
“Aubrey.”
I couldn’t hear Aubrey’s voice, but watched Archie’s face as she spoke and he answered, explaining our situation. What would that be like? I wondered. Getting enough time with my brother to irritate him? For there to be quirky things about him that drove me nuts? Aubrey got her brother back. Mine was gone forever...A moment later, Archie pushed his phone back into his pocket and smiled at me uncertainly.
“This is going to earn you some free drink tickets at least.”
“A bright side, I guess.” I tried to keep my voice light, but I was wondering how long we might be in here.
“I’m really sorry for the time stolen from your night. I guess the elevator guy we had here earlier got called down the hill for some family emergency.”
A tiny spike of fear shot through me. “So that means...?”
He gestured to the floor as if waving me into a chair in a restaurant. “It means my sister is calling one of the other guys. But it could be a little while.” He sank to the floor, leaning against the elevator wall and bending his long legs in front of him. His posture was casual, comfortable, and it relaxed me a little.
I followed suit, sitting across from him and crossing my jean-clad legs in front of me. I was considering broaching the topic of the treasure hunt when he spoke.
“So,” he said, rubbing one hand through the mass of red waves on his head, “what do you write?”
“Mostly travel pieces,” I answered. “But I might write a book. Romance, maybe.” I wasn’t sure why I always had to qualify my writing ambitions, as if telling people I would write a book gave me more validity than freelancing. I was trying to decide how to ask about the hotel, how to use this moment to my advantage, when he spoke again.
“One of our staff said most of these writers are romance authors.”
“Yeah, I think so. My girlfriend is here, and that’s her genre. She’s published like thirty novels.”
His expression shifted, and for a second, he looked surprised, but then he nodded. “Wow, that’s impressive. Your girlfriend is prolific.” The way he said girlfriend made it clear he meant it in a different way than I had.
“No, uh. Yes, she is. But we’re not together. Not like that.” I wasn’t sure why it felt important that he know that, but that little tick lifted one side of his mouth again.
“So are you planning to write a piece about the resort? Any questions you want to ask while you’ve got me captive?” The playful grin fell. “Oh shit, are you going to mention the elevator?”
“I probably will write about the resort,” I answered truthfully. I didn’t tell the whole truth about the next part, though. The questions I wanted to ask him probably weren’t the ones he would be expecting. But I could get close. “I pitched my editor a piece as a way to offset the cost of coming out here for the conference. I’ll leave out the elevator if you want me to.” I’d get the piece, and then I’d ask him about Jake. The problem was that I didn’t know exactly what to ask, and if I started there, my chances of getting the cover story might disappear.
“Maybe you should wait and see how long we’re stuck before you make any promises.” His smile was careful, but kind. I could sense something guarded in him, like he didn’t have a lot of practice showing his real emotions. I’d have put good money on him being excellent at poker.
We sat in silence a moment, my father’s voice in the back of my head spewing anger and hatred. Here was the man who’d ruined our family, who’d taken my brother from us. And I was making small talk? But what was I supposed to do? There was no easy way to mention casually that you were the little sister of the guy who’d died in that massive, life-changing accident you’d had that one time.
“So. Did you grow up knowing you’d run this place some day?”
He shook his head. “Not at all.” Archie rubbed the back of his neck, and those eyes clouded again before he blinked hard, seeming to clear whatever dark thoughts had passed across his mind. “No, Aubrey did, maybe. But it was more of a childhood fantasy than anything that seemed like it would really happen. Our uncle never said anything about leaving it to us when he was alive.”
“He just...left it to you? He didn’t tell you he was going to do that?”
“Nope,” Archie scrubbed a hand across his jaw like he was thinking for a second, then went on. “It’s been a little complicated,” he chuckled, and I suspected he was referring to the treasure hunt. “Seems like we might be here a while. You up for a story?”
I grinned at him, relieved he seemed willing to talk to me. I’d get the story now. Talk about my brother later, if he still felt chatty. “I’m a writer. I’m always up for a story.”