4. Grant
Chapter four
Grant
Istare at the list Laurie sent me this morning—three pages, organized by room and urgency level. Cabinet hinges. Water pressure inconsistencies. Loose deck boards. A pantry shelf that "defies physics and common sense."
My facility manager walked the lodge twice last month and reported no major concerns.
Laurie Bennett spent two hours there and found seventeen actionable problems.
I fold the pages and slide them into my jacket pocket as I cross the Outlaws training facility. Players move through their routines. The morning skate just wrapped, and the building hums with that post-practice energy. Voices echo from the locker room. Equipment clatters.
Dean Mercer intercepts me near the staff offices.
"Grant." He nods, falling into step beside me. "Vivian's waiting in Conference Room B. Said it's urgent."
"The lodge?"
"What else?"
***
Vivian Hale sits at the conference table with her laptop open and a legal pad covered in notes. She doesn't look up when I enter.
"Close the door," she says.
I do.
Dean settles into a chair across from her. I remain standing.
Vivian finally meets my eyes. "We have a problem."
I look at her paperwork. "Who is Jessie Lestor?"
"She filed a formal claim yesterday. She's arguing the property should revert to the Lestor family estate." Vivian taps her pen against the pad. "And she's escalated her complaint to include witness statements claiming the lodge has been vacant for years."
Dean mutters something under his breath.
"She's also," Vivian continues, voice flat, "arguing that our sudden activity at the property is staged specifically to avoid legal consequences. That we're manufacturing proof of occupancy."
"Which is exactly what we're doing," Dean says.
"Careful phrasing, Dean." Vivian's tone sharpens. "We're demonstrating legitimate use of team-owned property. Maintenance. Preparation for use. All above board."
I pull out a chair and sit. "Is there more?"
Vivian hesitates.
That hesitation costs her the strategic high ground. I lean forward.
"Vivian. What else?"
"Jessie looked into Laurie Bennett."
Ice slides through my chest.
"She found public records. Obituary for Laurie's late husband.
Financial history. The eviction notice that was filed and later withdrawn.
" Vivian's expression doesn't shift, but her voice gentles slightly.
"Jessie's argument is that you're exploiting a vulnerable widow.
Taking advantage of someone in financial distress to create the appearance of legitimate lodge activity. "
Dean swears outright this time.
I don't move.
"That's absurd," I say.
"It's effective," Vivian counters. "Laurie Bennett is Marianne's best friend.
She's between homes. She's recently widowed.
You hired her for a short-term cleaning contract and offered temporary housing in the same property currently under legal scrutiny.
" She pauses. "Grant, I'm not saying Jessie's right. I'm saying her narrative has teeth."
"Laurie is a contractor."
"Who is living on-site."
"As part of a fair arrangement."
"Which conveniently solves two problems at once: her housing crisis and your occupancy gap.
" Vivian closes her laptop. "I'm your attorney, and I enjoy winning.
So I'm telling you this as someone who wants to protect both you and this team: do not make this arrangement look messier than it already is. "
Silence fills the room.
"I'm ensuring the property is inspection-ready."
"Good. Keep that reason front and center." Vivian leans back. "Because if Jessie's attorney can argue you're misusing these ladies, they'll use it to undermine everything."
Dean watches me carefully.
Vivian softens slightly. "I'm not trying to control your life. I'm trying to keep Jessie Lestor from controlling the narrative."
"Understood."
Dean clears his throat. "For what it's worth, Laurie's doing excellent work. The lodge is already in better shape than it has been in years."
"Then we make sure that work is framed correctly," Vivian says. "Professional contract. Temporary housing arrangement. Standard team operation."
***
After the meeting, I walk the perimeter of the training facility. Cold air bites through my jacket. The mountains rise in the distance, snow-capped and indifferent.
Laurie Bennett is Marianne's best friend.
She's a contractor.
She's temporary.
She's off-limits.
I repeat those facts like a mantra, but they don't settle the unease.
Jessie Lestor isn't wrong about the timeline. The lodge sat empty for years. We're scrambling now because the legal pressure forced action.
But she is wrong about Laurie.
I didn't hire Laurie Bennett to exploit her circumstances. I hired her because Marianne insisted she was capable, trustworthy, and needed the work. The housing arrangement solved a practical problem for both parties.
Fair contract. Fair terms.
Nothing exploitative.
Nothing personal.
My phone buzzes.
A text from Marianne:
Laurie says the lodge has good bones. Also says you're annoying. And competent. I think she likes you.
I don't respond.
Another text follows:
Don't screw this up, Grant.
I pocket the phone and head back inside.
***
That evening, I review the lodge contract Vivian sent over. Every clause is clean. Every term is defensible.
My signature sits at the bottom of the page.
Hers mirrors it on the line below.
I turn off the lamp and stare out the window at the dark mountains.
Jessie Lestor wants the lodge.
Vivian wants documentation.
Marianne wants me to stop being me.
And Laurie Bennett—
Laurie Bennett is standing in a broken-down lodge with a screwdriver, a prayer, and three pages of needed repairs, making me believe that disaster can be redeemed.