“I am. Trust me.”
He had waited such a long time for Elizabeth, and he knew that she liked to set up rules and barriers between them. But he wasn’t a man to take no for an answer.
This time he was coming for her and nothing—not even Elizabeth—was going to stand in his way.
She sighed. “Well, then, I guess I’ll see you soon, Bradley.”
“You most definitely will, Lizzie.”
A LIGHT DUSTING of fresh snow covered the employee parking lot of the Lars Usten Lodge as Elizabeth pulled her SUV into the spot labeled General Manager.
The Lars Usten Lodge/Spa ski resort was the idea of Lars Usten, a two-time gold-medal alpine skier. The runs on the Wasatch Range were used by the U.S. Olympic ski team for practice and training, and although the runs still prohibited snowboarders, they enjoyed a steady stream of lodgers year round.
She hopped out of her SUV and pulled her thick red wool coat tighter to ward off the cold. Then she glanced surreptitiously around before she took out her iPhone and photographed the sign with her name on it.
General Manager, Elizabeth Anders.
Oh, my God. Now it seemed real. Seeing her name on the plaque made her want to do the Snoopy dance of joy, but she was an adult.
“Want me to take your photo next to the sign?”
She glanced over at Lindsey Collins, a former Olympic alpine skier and currently one of the ski instructors at the Lars Usten Lodge, who was standing there with a bemused smile on her face.
Lindsey had wide Nordic features and brown eyes. She was taller than Elizabeth, at five feet ten inches, and wore a thick ski headband in her hair to hold her shoulder-length blond locks off her face. If not for a career-ending accident at the Winter Olympics in Sochi, she’d be up on the mountain training right now.
“You saw?” Elizabeth asked a bit sheepishly.
“Yeah, but I thought it was cute. And you have worked damned hard to get here...so, do you want a photo next to the sign?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied. She already had a picture frame on her dresser ready for the photo that would be a reminder—or a touchstone, rather—to keep her on track as she worked every day at her job.
She’d even dressed the part in a swanky black dress that she’d paired with her mother’s pearls and her father’s big gold watch. She wouldn’t be where she was today without her parents.
“Go on, then,” Lindsey said.
Elizabeth walked over to the sign and turned to look back at the camera. Inside she might feel like grinning, but her expression for the photo was serious and intent. “Got it. You want to join me for breakfast?” Lindsey asked.
“Yes, I’d love to. But first I want to touch base with the night manager and make sure everything is on track. So...thirty minutes?”
“Perfect. I want to check the ski valet and make sure that Thompson Holmes’s skis arrived.”
“I was going to ask you about that,” Elizabeth said. Thompson Holmes was a Hollywood director but also an avid outdoorsman. He loved the lodge and they kept one of their private cabins on standby for him since he often called at the last minute.
“We can discuss over breakfast,” Lindsey replied. “My treat.”
“Why?” Elizabeth asked. Over the last few months, as Lindsey had adjusted to being one of the ski instructors, the two women had become friends. They often had breakfast together, but each always paid her own way.
“To celebrate. It’s my way of saying congratulations on your promotion.”
“Oh, well, thanks,” Elizabeth said. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“Yes, it is. I’m proud of you,” Lindsey added before turning and walking away. Elizabeth drew her coat a little closer around herself as she walked toward the lodge and her office. It was situated with all of the executive offices, on the second floor, behind a massive stone atrium wall with a fireplace in it. When she moved into her new one she’d have a view of the Wasatch Range.
The view wasn’t what she’d worked so hard for, but she’d definitely enjoy it.
As she entered the lodge she was greeted by the doorman, Henry, who’d been trained at some of the finest hotels in Europe. Lars only hired the very best to staff his lodge. The moment she walked inside everyone began offering congratulations and she took the time to greet them all by name.
She’d learned from Lars that little gestures like that meant the difference between good and great. Good didn’t lead, but great could.
Elizabeth walked over to her desk and shook her head as she remembered her lurid dream about Bradley last night. She tossed her designer tote onto her dark-stained walnut sideboard and skimmed the room with her eyes, half expecting him to be waiting in the corner. But that was just wishful thinking, and this was real. She was the general manager of the Lars Usten Lodge. It was a big deal. She wished her father were here for her to call. He would have been so proud of her for getting this promotion.
He’d been a middle manager and traveled a lot when she and her sister were little. His dream had been to see them both succeed and be happy. Elizabeth had always been his little shadow.
She paused for a moment, letting the heels of her shiny black pumps sink into her bespoke geometrically designed Persian rug, before she sat down behind her desk. Knowing she had a busy day ahead of her, she took out her laptop and powered it up, then switched on her Tiffany lamp and got to work. Barely ten minutes later she heard a knock. She glanced up from the memo she was typing and invited the person to enter. It was her boss, Lars.
She stood up, wiped her hands on her skirt and walked around her desk to greet the chairman of the board. He was sixty-five but showed little sign of slowing down. Lars had once been a champion giant-slalom skier and still started every day with some sort of outdoor activity, which probably accounted for his good health.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” the silver-haired gentleman said. “Are you ready for the morning report?”
“Morning, Lars,” she said, holding her hand out to him and following his ritual of the European air kiss to each cheek before returning to sit behind her desk. Her computer screen flashed a message and she saw that the morning report had just arrived in her mailbox.
This was the second time that Jerry had been late in filing the report and she jotted a quick note to have a discussion with him. She’d worked with him in her former position as well, and knew that his lateness was becoming a habit.
She skimmed the email and started to discuss it with her boss. When she finished he leaned back in the art-deco guest chair, crossing one leg over the other.
“Very good. I can see you have this all under control. I think I will move our meetings to weekly instead of daily.”
“Okay.
