Loving Lies(12)

Once I’m back in my cabin, I answer a few emails and call the front desk. The owners, it turns out, are around. Within thirty minutes I’m dressed casually but respectably and standing outside their door thinking about my approach when an old man comes up behind me.

“You waiting for an invitation?” he asks.

“No. You can go ahead,” I reply.

“Well that’s grand considering it’s my office. You must be Blake Samson. Amy, the little lady at the front, said you were looking for me. What can I do for you, Blake?”

Well so much for having one up on the guy. “It’s more what I can do for you.”

He walks past me and opens the door. “Well, if that’s so, why don’t you come in and we’ll chat. My wife will be along shortly. She’s just gone to the restaurant to get me some coffee. Can I get you some?”

“No. I’m good.”

“So Blake, what exactly is it you think you can do for me?”

An hour later I’m walking around the resort with both owners—one on either side of me. I’ve told them my made-up story. I’d come up here for some R&R, but the minute I’d stepped onto their property I’d fallen in love with the place. They, of course, beamed proudly. Now as we roam around casual-like I’m subtly pointing out things that will still need to be fixed even after they’re done the renovations on the cabins and pointing out how much that might cost.

“So, I take it you’re interested in buying this place. Seems to me you’re awfully young to have the type of money we’d be interested in when it comes to selling. Not that we are thinking that,” says Mr. McCaid, who’s been holding his wife’s hand for the past twenty minutes.

“Oh, I’ve got money in a trust fund that was set up for me years ago, and I’ve just been trying to figure out how to invest it. Did you have a dollar figure you were thinking of for this place? I know it’s like home.”

“It is our home,” pipes up Sandy, Mr. McCaid’s wife.

“Don’t get ruffled, darlin’, we’re just talking,” says Mr. McCaid as he hauls in his wife for a hug. They’re a very cute couple who have obviously worked hard to maintain this place.

I’ve dug as much as I should today, so I casually back off. “Well you two can think about it. I’m here all summer, so I’m in no rush.”

Hell, I’m in a rush but I can’t appear that way.

“Well, Blake, I like you. This conversation wasn’t one I’d thought I’d be having today, but I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I know we’re not getting any younger and this place does need a good makeover.”

“Well, like I said, take your time.”

Just then I spy Alyssa as she dumps a large load of garbage out the back door of the tavern. I try hard to ignore her, but she’s a magnet. To cover up my staring at her, I say, “You must have to hire a lot of summer staffers for this place.”

With pride in her voice, the wife says, “We’ve got over one hundred summer staffers and thirty full-timers.”

“The staff here usually, like you, fall in love with this place. Most of the summer staffers are ones we’ve rehired, except for a few like Alyssa there, who is our new assistant bar manager.” He hesitates for a minute. “What on earth is she hauling out the back door?”

Chuckling I say, “Looks to me like it’s a moose’s head.”

“Oh shit, Roger’s going to have a fit.”

“Is Roger her boss?”

“Roger has been with this place almost as long as us. He decorated that tavern and those trophies he had anchored to the walls were his kills. We’d better get on over there before all hell breaks loose. Nice to chat with you, Blake. We’ll give it some thought and see you around.”

I nod, wanting more than anything to come to Alyssa’s rescue, but she wouldn’t appreciate my efforts. I see the guy Roger, who I’d met last night, come out the back door. Alyssa’s standing her ground, but from their raised voices I know he’s not happy with her remodeling efforts.

I return to my cabin and give grandfather a call. I made sure Bruce checked out this morning so I’ve got breathing space again, but I’m going to let him know I’m not pleased he feels the need to check up on me.

Later in the evening I reserve a table in the fancy restaurant. Bruce might be gone, but grandfather informed me I have to wine and dine Carol, a fairly new investor he’s brought on board for this project.

Carol is waiting for me at the restaurant. I resist the urge to poke my head into the tavern. All day it was a struggle to not think about Alyssa. In just four hours we’ll be together. Anticipation curls through my body. I tamp it down as I escort Carol to our table.