Chapter 11 #2
“I’m here,” she told Robert. When he’d been introduced, he’d told her in no uncertain terms that his name was Robert and that was what he liked to be called.
Not Bobby. Not Rob. Robert. He was in his sixties, with long grayish hair he kept pulled back in a ponytail at the base of his neck.
He had Native American blood and took great pride in his heritage.
His skin was dark and wrinkled, and he frequently wore chunky turquoise jewelry.
He was a bit eccentric—and made some of the best food Alaska had ever eaten.
He glanced over and she could instantly see the relief on his face.
“I know I should’ve let the boys know, but I could tell they were all excited for their meeting.
I didn’t want to do anything that might make this investor decide not to give money to The Refuge, if he knew about the chaos going on right now. ”
“It’s okay. We’ll get it figured out,” Alaska soothed. The truth was, she didn’t know if she could figure out anything, but she’d do what she could to calm the guests.
She rushed into the lobby and was immediately bombarded with negative vibes from unhappy guests and the sound of a phone ringing off the hook.
She walked behind the counter where she’d seen Becky sitting countless times in the last two weeks.
When she took in the phone system, she breathed a small sigh of relief.
She was familiar with it from one of her past jobs.
The first thing she did was hit the mute button on the ringer. Then she took a deep breath and turned to face the dozen or so people in the lobby.
“I’m so sorry for the confusion. Our admin had a personal emergency and had to leave, but I’m here now. I’m going to do my best to get you all on your way as soon as I can, if everyone could extend just a bit more patience. Those who are checking out…do any of you have to catch a flight?”
To her relief, everyone shook their heads.
“Okay, great. As you know, lunch isn’t included on check-out day, but I think we can make an exception this afternoon.
Please help yourself to the buffet while you’re waiting.
Robert is working hard in the kitchen to make sure there’s plenty of food for everyone.
And I’m sure you can also smell that he’s making a batch of his super-awesome chocolate chip cookies. They’re so good warm.”
She took a breath before continuing. “I need about fifteen minutes to dig into the computer system and make sure everything is good to go. For those of you waiting to check in, feel free to help yourself to lunch as well. Or if you prefer, you can wander down to the barn. I promise you Melba, our resident cow, will greet you with open arms. She loves being scratched under her chin. But watch the goats—they’ll try to make you think they’re starving to death by eating your shirt, your pants, and anything else they can get their teeth on. ”
Alaska smiled at the group. To her relief, the majority seemed to be relaxing a fraction. She knew from experience that, most of the time, all people needed was for someone to take charge. To organize the chaos.
“This isn’t a very good start to my trip,” one man grumbled. “I thought this place was supposed to be relaxing. I’m not feeling very relaxed.”
Without pause—and hoping Drake wasn’t going to flip out on her—Alaska nodded sympathetically.
“I understand your frustration. I’d feel the same way if I was you.
” She’d learned a long time ago that the best option when faced with an unhappy customer was to empathize, make them feel as if their opinion was important…
and give a discount when possible. “As a small apology from The Refuge for the confusion, everyone here will receive fifty dollars off their bill.”
Upon hearing that, most of the guests actually smiled. Even the man who’d verbally voiced his displeasure.
When everyone left the immediate area around the desk, Alaska sat down and held her breath as she wiggled the mouse to wake the computer. To her relief, Becky had left so quickly, she hadn’t bothered to lock it. It wasn’t smart, but since it was working in her favor, Alaska couldn’t be too upset.
Over the years, she’d had to learn more than a dozen different administrative programs. One of her best skills was an ability to quickly figure out computer systems. She clicked around for ten minutes, until she was fairly certain she’d be able to check guests in and out, as well as print receipts and input credit cards.
She was relieved when it was fairly easy to apply discounts, as well.
Taking a big breath, she went to the dining area to find her first customer to check out.
Brick clicked off the computer and turned to his friends. “So? What do we think?”
“If he’s legit, it sounds good. Really good,” Spike said.
“Agreed,” Pipe said.
“I mean, it’s a little weird that someone all the way over in China wants to invest, though, right?” Tonka asked. He was the skeptical one of the group, which wasn’t a bad thing. It was smart to have someone who saw it as their job to present alternate opinions.
“Maybe. But he’s looking to invest in the US, which isn’t uncommon. And he mentioned his local friend who told him about The Refuge, who thinks it has potential to be so much more than it is now,” Owl said.
“But do we want it to be more?” Tiny asked with a shrug.
His friend had a point. Right now, they had a dozen cabins, a chef, and several men and women who came to clean the rooms, take care of the landscaping around the cabins, the maintenance on the guest rooms and the lodge…it was a fairly big operation as it was.
The potential investor, a Mr. Choo, was proposing adding another dozen cabins, a larger main building—which would hold thirty hotel-like rooms—more hiking paths, and even a few walk-in campsites, as well.
“The thought of being able to help more men and women with PTSD is tempting,” Brick said. “But at what cost? One of the best things about The Refuge is its exclusivity. The peacefulness of the place.”
“We wouldn’t have to implement everything, though, right? We could add more cabins and the walk-in campsites, but not the hotel building. That would allow us to work with an investor but not change the vibe of the place,” Stone suggested.
“But doubling the number of guests would still mean a lot more work on the back end,” Spike said.
Brick held up his hand. “I suggest we all take some time to think about this. We don’t have to decide anything right this second.
Even if he does end up coming out here to check out the property, he might change his mind after seeing it.
Even if he doesn’t, we can still decide not to move forward.
Yes, the money would be welcome, but when we first signed the paperwork for this place, we all agreed we weren’t in it to get rich, right? ”
Everyone nodded their heads.
“Right, so we’ll let his proposal digest. I think we’d be stupid to turn down the amount he mentioned without at least considering it.
There are things we all want to do to improve The Refuge, and having that kind of money in the bank would certainly make it easier.
For now, just think on it, and we’ll come back and discuss the pros and cons in a few days or so. Agreed?”
Once again, everyone nodded.
As his friends began to file out of the room, Brick looked down at his watch.
Damn, they’d been in the video meeting for three hours.
He hadn’t meant to be gone so long. While Alaska was making great strides in her recovery, it was obvious she was still nervous to be alone for significant stretches of time.
Whenever he thought about what she’d been through, Brick got angry all over again. No one deserved to be treated as a piece of meat. Or property. And anyone who had anything to do with the sex trade should rot in hell—especially those who did the actual kidnapping.
Brick was gathering up the graphs he’d used to give Mr. Choo details about their operation, and all his notes, when Spike stuck his head back into the room.
“Um…I’m thinking you need to get out here, Brick.”
His friend’s odd tone immediately made him tense. “Why? What’s going on?”
“You’ll see. Come on.”
Brick left the papers on the table and headed for the exit.
The second he stepped out the door, he smelled the unmistakable scent of cookies.
Which was odd, because Robert usually only made cookies in the evenings.
Something about that small change in the chef’s routine made Brick tense up even further as he entered the great room.
At first, he didn’t see anything out of place. There were a few guests milling around, but everyone seemed at ease, which was a relief. Sometimes newly arrived guests were tense because they didn’t know what to expect with a change of environment. Their PTSD could get the better of them.
“Look behind the desk,” Spike finally said, with a small chuckle.
It took Brick a moment to understand what he was seeing.
Alaska was in Becky’s spot behind the computer, handing an old-fashioned key to a man in his mid-twenties.
Without hesitating, Brick quickly walked toward the desk in time to hear Alaska say, “Please enjoy your stay. If there’s anything you want, all you have to do is ask.
Henley, the therapist, will be here tomorrow if you feel a need for her services.
Meals are buffet-style and breakfast is from eight to nine-thirty.
The rest of the times are on the schedule I gave you.
The Refuge is happy to welcome you, and I think you’ll find your stay is both rejuvenating and relaxing. I know I have.”
She gave the young man a huge smile as he nodded at her, smiled back, then turned to head off to his cabin.
“What in the world is going on?” Brick asked.
Alaska turned to him. “Oh—hi, Drake. Is your meeting over?”
“Yes. Alaska, what are you doing? Where’s Becky?”
“Apparently she quit.”
“What? Seriously?”