Dutton
Chapter
Three
I slam the phone down and then swivel my chair away from my desk and computer. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, loosening the tie that is determined to choke me to death.
Either that or it’s the fact that it’s so hot in this goddamn place. How high is the thermostat set to? The season might be swiftly changing into fall, but it’s not winter yet.
I grab my notepad and jot down a memo to ask Gavin about the heat. He is by far the best when it comes to shit like the temperature of the main building. If you want to know anything about the maintenance involved with this place, Gavin is your guy. He keeps this place in pristine condition.
“Mr. Richford.” My assistant, Bethany, appears at my door. “I heard a loud noise. Can I assist you with anything?”
“Yeah.”
She perks up with a smile.
“You can leave and close the door behind you and stop calling me Mr. Richford. It’s just Dutton,” I say. Her smile doesn't even flinch.
“You got it,” she says in a cheery tone.
And that is why she works for me. My snarky comments have zero effect on her.
I should give her a raise. She does her work, never complains, and most importantly, she never talks back either.
Unlike some people I know.
On another breath, I twist back to my computer and stare at the newest email sitting in my inbox, and my mind immediately goes to the phone call I just attempted to have.
All correspondence can be sent through email. A paper trail is best since I don’t trust you.
Today is a new day, and I assumed that Brooke and I could get started on the details of this wedding cake. A phone call seemed like the quickest way to check this task off my list, but no, she wants the entire conversation in an email.
My fingers type as fast as they can, the clicking of the keys filling the silence of my office as I put as much detail as possible into the first email, leaving no room for questions on her end. I want answers only. No need to drag this out.
Once I hit send, I close my email and open the shared company calendar that Grace, Gavin, Henry, and I share to see what is on my schedule for today.
I should have looked at this last night to be prepared for today, but I didn’t.
I have a love-hate relationship with this place.
I love the memories this place has given me. Well, most of them. But I hate the expectations this place has of me, all because I hold the last name Richford.
I know that when this town hears that name, people praise how grateful they are for my family and the lodge. It’s a name that alone brings tourists year-round, providing additional income for every local business.
To the world, the lodge is a lovely, family-owned venue with true integrity and strong family values. What they don’t know is that even the most well-respected families have their secrets.
And ours has a big fucking fat one.
I lean back in my chair and let out a sigh, pinching the bridge between my eyes.
If anyone ever found out what my father has done, it would ruin us.
All right, maybe not ruin us, but our image would be tainted and my family … torn apart.
My email pings, and I open it eagerly.
As soon as I read through it, I pick up the land phone and press one to call my sister’s office.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” she answers.
“I need you to call the bakery and confirm the dates and cake flavors for the Carmichael rehearsal and reception,” I cut right to the point. The couple decided they didn't need a taste test for the bakery; they are confident it will all be perfect.
“Oh, hey, sis, can you help me with a favor?” she teases.
“Please,” I add.
“Why don’t you just call Brooke?”
I sigh. “She doesn’t want to discuss it on the phone because she doesn't trust me. Email is fine if she were efficient at it, but she’s not.”
Grace laughs.
“Bummer. Look, I helped you all summer with these kinds of things. It’s time you figured it out.”
And I can, with everything in this business except the bakery.
“I do have things figured out. I just can’t handle …”
“Brooke,” my sister finishes for me.
“Exactly.”
“I only need—”
“Call your sister and brother and tell them to meet us in my office.” Henry barely steps into my office long enough to make his demand.
I open my mouth to relay the message, but Grace says, “I heard him.”
Within the next five minutes, Grace and Gavin are sitting across from Henry’s mahogany desk, while I stand behind them.
Henry Richford’s office looks exactly like what you'd expect from a nineties’ movie. Oak and mahogany everything. Built-in bookshelves behind it. Dark colors throughout the room.
The faint smell of a cigar from a meeting he might have had days or even a week ago.
Once upon a time, I'm sure it displayed authority. Now it just shows a man who can’t seem to adapt to the times.
A good reason, among many, why he needs to retire.
I cross my arms and wait for him to address us.
He’s taking his time, of course, to build the suspense, I'm sure. He’s always been one for theatrics.
“I’m glad you’re all here,” he begins without looking at any of us.
Sure, come to your office at the snap of your fingers, but don’t address us with respect.
Typical.
“You did tell us to come, so,” I say and wait for him to get to the point.
His gaze snaps to mine.
Thank God I got my mother’s eyes, because I’d lose my shit right now if I were staring into a pair that looked like mine.
The only thing I share with the man scolding me is a name.
I’m nothing like him, and proud of it.
“And it seems you were the last to show, since you’re standing.”
“Actually—” Grace holds her hand up, but Henry waves her off in dismissal.
She was going to say that she was last and I stood, offering her my seat, but she didn't get the chance.
Truth be told, I wouldn’t have let her defend me. That’s my job as the oldest child.
If Henry sees me as the black sheep forever, I'll take it.
I don’t respond to his remark, which I'm sure pisses him off even more, but I don’t care. I just want to know why we are here.
“As you all know, I’ve been running this place for many decades now, and …”
His entire speech blurs in my mind as he addresses us as if we know nothing about him and his history with the lodge.
This man is something else, and the fact that we share blood is such a disappointment.
“… I will be officially retiring at the end of this quarter, passing it down to one of you.”
Now he has my attention.
“No offense, but I don’t want your job. I’m fine with my role here,” Gavin says quickly.
Dad looks at him with a soft expression.
“Thank you for bringing that to my attention sooner rather than later.”
His gaze shifts to Grace and then to me.
“Does anyone else feel the same way?”
Silence fills the room.
“Great, then Dutton and Grace, I expect the two of you to work harder than ever before to prove to me you want this, including putting together a ten-year plan to keep this place going.”
“I will,” Grace says and stands.
I have nothing to say.
“You can all go now,” he says, and I turn my back to him before I roll my eyes.
Gavin and Grace are following me out when Henry speaks up.
“One last thing. This lodge is not only important to the family but to this town.” His attention settles on me before he goes on. “You’ll need their approval as much as you’ll need mine.”
His comment basically seals my fate. If there is anyone who thinks I’m not worthy of this role more than the man scowling at me, it’s the people of Lovers.
“Thanks again, Dad,” Grace says and presses my back to push me out of the room.
Once the three of us have exited and the door is closed, Grace tosses her hands up.
“What is your problem, Dutton?”
“Henry, obviously,” I answer.
My sister crosses her arms as Gavin leans on the wall to watch the show with a smirk. He loves watching Grace and I battle.
“He knows how to get under your skin, and you let him.”
“I didn’t let him do shit. We all know he’s just doing this for fun. He already knows he wants you to take over.”
Which I need to stop from happening for the sole purpose of, once again, secrets.
“And what do you want?” Gavin asks.
“Don’t you want to run this place, too?” Grace asks.
I want to change so many things and make it better. And I sure as fuck don’t want my sister in charge of cleaning up Henry’s mess when the truth comes out, because it will. Grace is one of the best people I know, and she sure as hell doesn’t deserve what’s coming.
But the people in Lovers … convincing them is going to be tough.
“Yes, I do,” I tell them and wait for my sister's face to fall.
She nods. “Well, we knew it would come down to this. Me versus you. Whoever wins will make this place great, but the question is, do I want you to be my boss or do you want me to be yours?”
I shake my head and grin.
Of course, Grace would find a way to turn a shitty situation into some kind of fun.
“You want competition?” I ask her.
She nods. “I do, but most importantly, I want the right person for the job. That’s either one of us, Dutton, despite what this town thinks of you.”
Growing up, running this place was all I ever wanted, but then shit hit the fan and I started getting into trouble, and everyone lost their faith in me.
It doesn’t matter that I still graduated on time or that I have multiple degrees to show my knowledge in running a resort like this—people stopped believing in me a long time ago.
And yet, with the way my brother and sister are looking at me now, it seems maybe I haven’t lost everyone.
“All right,” I groan. “Let’s do this.”
Grace squeals and then hugs me before she takes off down the hall for her office.
Gavin claps a hand on my shoulder.
All he says is “Good for you” before he heads for the front of the lobby.
I glance at my watch, noting that it’s just before noon.
I could pop into town, grab a burger from Hudson’s Bar, which is owned by one of my good friends, and then get back to work for the afternoon. No one wants to start a business plan on an empty stomach.
I make my way through the lobby, thoughts on how I can pull this off running through my mind, when I overhear a conversation mentioning Brooke.
“She's just the sweetest. Owning a bakery fits her so well.”
“Oh, I forgot my wallet yesterday, and she didn’t charge me for my drink. She’s by far the kindest woman in this town.”
All because she gave some woman a free fucking coffee.
Okay.
I take another step, but the next statement stops me again.
“If there was an award for most loved person in town, she’d win it. Hands down, no questions asked.”
Brooke Sloan, the most loved person in town.
Shit.
They’re probably right.
Which means, if I want this town to like me again, enough to help influence Henry to pick me so I can head off the lodge’s downfall before it begins, I need Brooke on team Dutton.
How in the fuck am I going to manage that?