Page 9 of Worth the Fall

I’d been staring at this budget-planning spreadsheet for the last hour, trying to fix an error I couldn’t seem to locate. As the director of finance, it was my job to review Sugar Mountain Resort’s performance from the previous year and create a plan for the upcoming one. Only I was struggling. With the addition of our new wedding barn, the hotel would fill up quicker and stay at capacity for longer than usual. We’d most likely get booked for events years out instead of months. This was something that could create issues for us going forward.

Adding another building with additional rooms seemed to be the best option. But I’d need to float it past the old man. He was still the general manager of the resort with no signs of giving that title up anytime soon. I was grateful that he still loved the job and didn’t mind the long hours. Eventually, I was supposed to take it over, but I wasn’t ready to be the face of the resort. Not while everyone still called me Grumpy O’Grady behind my back. Matthew would be better suited for it, to be honest. Me? I loved the numbers. They were like a puzzle that fit perfectly together. Numbers made sense. People usually didn’t.

Anyway, I knew our dad would tell me to wait and see how the first year of the barn actually panned out financially before adding the additional rooms, but by then, it would be too late. We’d be a year behind in building when we could have been almost completed. Grabbing a pen, I made a note to talk to my brothers first and get their opinions. The old man dealt best when presented with not only a united front, but also a smart plan.

A quick knock on my door diverted my attention.

“Come in,” I said, thankful for the reprieve.

“Thomas”—Sierra, our events coordinator, stood in the doorway, looking a little nervous—“can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course.”

This wasn’t an unusual request. Sierra and I had budget meetings all the time. And when the occasional vendor tried to get more money when there was no justifiable reason for the increase, she came to me to be the bad guy.

I gladly obliged.

“So, I’ll just cut to it,” she said in a rushed tone as she sat down. “I’m moving.”

“You’re moving?” I repeated, knowing how shocked I sounded.

“I know. I’m sure it seems sudden, but it’s not. Jada and I want to buy a house, and it’s just too hard to find one we love and can afford in town without having to fix the whole thing up, and DIY isn’t really our thing. We found the perfect place in Cherry Cove, and they accepted our offer,” she explained, and I hated how much I understood.

Sugar Mountain wasn’t always the most affordable place to live. I’d gotten lucky to get my house when I did. And even luckier that my dad had given me the money for the down payment.

“Cherry Cove isn’t that far.”

“It’s not.” She smiled. “But it would be a really bad drive during the winter. You know how often the roads close. Plus, we’re hoping to start a family.”

“Are you...” I started to ask if she was pregnant, but stopped myself from crossing that unprofessional line.

“No, not yet. There are a lot of different options for us and things we need to think about and figure out. It isn’t easy, and I know it’s going to take a lot of our time. I want to make our family a priority.”

“I understand completely. This is all good news, Sierra. I just hate to lose you.” I tried to sound noncommittal, but my words came out in a groan instead.

Staffing issues were one of my least favorite things to deal with. And now was not the time to lose our events coordinator. Not when we were hoping to increase them with the addition of the barn.

“I don’t want you to think I’m leaving you high and dry. The assistants are good, but you need someone great. Next level. I have the perfect recommendation for my replacement.”

I leaned forward, my elbows on the desk. “Who?”

“Her name is Brooklyn. She currently works for Kleinfeld’s. I think she’d be interested in something a little more stable.”

“Brooklyn McKay?” I asked like I knew the woman even though I didn’t, but she was the only person in Sugar Mountain with that first name.

Sierra tapped her chin and started rambling while I only half listened. “I think it’s Allister now. No, wait, I heard they just got divorced or something. I’m actually not sure. Anyway, do you know her?”

“Don’t really know her, no. Knowofher. She grew up here. Was in Patrick’s high school class, I’m pretty sure.” I racked my brain for images of Brooklyn and came up short. I knew the familiarity of her name, but that was it.

Did she have red hair?

“She’s really great. I think this would be a good transition for her.”

“Does she know you’re leaving?”

“Not yet. But I can talk to her first, if you’d like? Feel her out and float the idea by her,” she offered.

I nodded. “That would be really helpful.”

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