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"Thank you, Mr. Holiday, for meeting us for dinner." Edward Bonhomie, CEO of Alpine Ski and Sport, stands from his table in the ritziest restaurant in Catalpa Creek.
I shake his hand and take my seat. "Will there be others joining us?"
"They're on their way." Edward leans back in his seat and steeples his fingers over his chest. He's an older man, at least in his sixties, but his light hair shows not a single gray and his pale skin is oddly wrinkle-free. "Had a meeting with the Outerlimits rep about sponsoring our rentals." He raises his brows and waits, smiling like he's extremely proud of himself.
"That's… good?"
He leans forward and slaps his palms on the table. "Good? That is the best news we've had all year. Outerlimits is the premier designer of ski and snowboarding equipment. They are a five billion-dollar corporation."
"Okay?" I don't see why he thinks I should care.
"Five billion dollars, son. This could raise our resort to the level of the best in the Blue Ridge."
Which would mean more tourists traipsing through my forest and town. I smile and nod, because being polite to this guy means he might actually listen when I ask him for favors. Like not turning my favorite hiking trails into ski runs. Or putting his golf course, zip lines, and bike trails near the most popular parts of the park.
Mostly though, if I want to keep my job, I have to be nice to the suits. The resort will bring money and visitors into the park, which has always been the goal of the Park Service, no matter how much it annoys me.
The little wilderness town I grew up in is getting bigger by the day and I'm recognizing fewer and fewer people when I walk down main street.
"Sounds impressive."
He scowls, clearly annoyed that I'm not falling over myself with excitement about little green pieces of paper. "I should say so. This could put Catalpa Creek on the map and—" Edward's gaze drifts. He pushes back his chair and stands, his smile broad and relieved.
I almost smile at how much the guy must hate spending time with me, the hippy, tree-hugging forest ranger.
Standing, I smooth the uncomfortable suit jacket I bought just for this meeting, and turn to greet the suits joining us. To my surprise, there's a woman among the old white men, a woman with golden brown skin, long braids, and lips that once felt like velvet under mine.
"Grant Holiday," Edward says. "Meet the team." He introduces me to each of the three men, and I shake their hands and make polite greetings. I hear nothing beyond the beating of my heart, overwhelmed by the nearness of her.
"Kaia Kincaid," Edward says, "will be director of our resort. She'll be your point person for any issues that come up during construction and after."
I reach out and shake her hand, her fingers long and delicate, but her grip firm.
She smiles sadly. "Good to see you again, Grant."
"You know each other?" Ed asks.
A flicker of irritation moves across Kaia's lovely features, but she recovers quickly. "I grew up here, Edward. Grant and I have known each for years."
She says the words easily, without a tremble or a stutter. Nothing to show what we really were to each other once. What I still consider her to be: my soul mate, the love of my life. The woman who left me at the altar because she wanted more than a small town in the middle of nowhere and a man content to spend the rest of his years here.
I don't correct her. I take my seat at the table, and Kaia sits next to me.
I do my best to pay attention to the conversation about winter temperatures and how much snow they plan to make, about expected numbers of visitors, and how much the suits can make off the summer activities they're planning to offer.
Kaia's familiar scent of sour apples and vanilla distracts me into memories of her smooth skin against mine, her smile, the sound of her laughter.
God, I've missed her.
Luckily, the suits don't expect me to do much talking. I focus on every shift of Kaia next to me, every word out of her mouth, which are the ones that will most affect my day-to-day.
I pay enough attention to make sure my requests are at least heard and that the suits stick to the rules and requirements of building a resort on National Park Land. The golf course, at least, will be in the valley and closer to town, so that's not my concern.
I barely taste my food and walk out with the suits, shaking hands and saying goodbye. Making nice with the guys who look at my mountains and forest and see only dollar signs.
As the suits head for their rental cars, Kaia hangs back.
"It really is good to see you again, Grant."
