Page 4 of Beauden & Yelena

Rufus presses something on the dash and the large gate slowly opens inward. We drive in and pull up to a gorgeous ranch-style mansion. The pictures barely capture the grandeur and opulence of this home. The massive structure is a mixture of stone and wood. The exterior has walls of rock, stone, and brick but the beams and wraparound porch are made of traditional heavy timber. It’s rustic and elegant at the same time.

“We’re here,” Rufus announces, jarring me from my adoration of the home.

He exits his side of the van at the same time my door opens. A little startled, I look up and see a young man standing beside it smiling. He’s much taller and leaner than Rufus, but his attire is almost identical. His hat, however, is on his head. He tips it as he says, “Morning, ma’am. Welcome to The Phoxes Den.”

He extends his hand and I accept. “Good morning,” I respond as I ease out of the van with his assistance.

I don’t know if I call them ranchers or cowboys but there’s another one at the back of the van helping Monalisa, Teresa, Charly, and Sharon out.

Three Black cowboys!

The smile on my face is ridiculous. Unless we are in a Caribbean location, during these retreats, I’m typically the lone Black face. The only chocolate chip in this corporate cookie. So, seeing three Black cowboys is refreshing.

Steve, Todd, Josh, Rick, and Marty exit unassisted after the ladies. Our luggage is extracted by Rufus and he rolls the pieces to the main door. Prior to loading them in the trunk at the airport, he’d tagged them all with our names.

While standing in the cold, my eyes gravitate to the entrance. The main double doors are decorated with beautiful wreaths. Unlike the traditional green and red one on the gate, these two are beige and brown with gold ornaments. The right door opens and out walks a beautiful mocha sista with long twists cascading past her shoulders. She’s dressed in a bad ass beige and brown sweater dress and matching ankle boots.

“Good morning and welcome to The Phoxes Den. I’m Liberty James, the lodge manager and your accommodator for the week. Come in, get warm in the great room, and we will get you all checked into your suites,” she says with a smile. Then she turns and walks in, with us steps behind her.

The first thing that hits me is the warmth coming from the gigantic floor to ceiling stone fireplace adorned with deep green and poinsettia filled garland. The second is the splendor of this great room. It’s elegantly decorated for the season.

“How tall is this tree?” I ask as my eyes marvel at the biggest and prettiest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.

“Sixteen feet and I love it. Christmas is my favorite time of the year,” Liberty responds, smiling.

“Me too even though I have to work. Life of an accountant,” I comment with a smirk.

“I understand. We work the holidays too.”

The tree only adds to the total beauty of this room. The textured wood floors, huge log beams across the large window walls and sloped high ceiling are breathtaking. Three large, curved, espresso leather couches encircle a huge tree structure in the middle of the room. My eyes travel up and the branches are the ceiling beams. The structure is creative and beautiful. Everything in this room is.

I walk closer to the fireplace to warm up and the others trek to the couches. On the custom-made tree trunk styled tables are folders and coffee carafes. Liberty stands next to the tree structure.

“In your folders, you will find the itinerary for the week. The meetings you requested are incorporated into it. Your rooms and keys are on the left-hand side along with maps of the lodge and property. As you know, it’s all-inclusive; breakfast and dinner will be served daily at eight in the morning and seven in the evening in the grand dining room. Lunch is by request. Just alert the kitchen an hour in advance.

There are beverages stocked in the personal chillers in your rooms as well as snacks. For any refills, please fill out the snack card in the folder and leave it in the pouch outside of your door. And if you need anything not listed in your folder, please feel free to ask your assigned waitstaff or you can call my cell. My card is in the folder,” she says, then looks around. “Any questions so far?”

“Just one,” Monalisa says. She always has to open her damn mouth. At times, it gets annoying. “Well, actually a few,” she corrects. “Is there an elevator? And what about breakfast today? It’s obviously after eight. Our plane didn’t land until nine. Is the chef feeding us today?” she fires off and poor Todd sighs.

Not fazed by her at all, very calmly and with just as much politeness as she had earlier, Liberty says, “Yes. There is an elevator. It’s?—”

Monalisa cuts her off. “Well, am I upstairs? I prefer being on the second floor.”

“You each completed a preference sheet. If you indicated that, we accommodated you. But please check your folder. Rooms one to three are down here and four to seven are on the second level.”

Each of us had completed the preference sheet months ago. We had to list allergies, bedding requests, preferred foods and snacks, and alcohol preferences. I kept mine pretty basic: king size bed, extra pillows, and tub in room. I left everything else open because I can make almost anything work. I’m sure Monalisa’s list was several pages long. She gets on everyone’s nerves.

Since my body has warmed back up to its normal temperature, I join the group and sit on the unoccupied sofa. Todd hands me my folder and I look through it. I find my key and room number first. I’m in room three on this floor.

“I’m upstairs,” Monalisa utters. “But what about breakfast?”

“We planned for your late morning arrival. Breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes. You can enjoy it in the dining room or we can serve you ensuite if you prefer.”

This sista is better than me because I honestly don’t know if I would be as calm. Monalisa is being condescending and rude for no reason. I eye her husband, hoping he would at least try and rein her in but quickly remember he can’t control her either. So, I interject.

“Maybe you should eat in your room, Monalisa. I think you might be a little jet-lagged. I don’t want Liberty to think this is your normal snappy self,” I say with a grin, trying to shut her up and lighten the mood.

“Agreed,” Steve adds then stands. “I think we all might be a little jetlagged. Our flights were super early. We have a busy first two days with meetings. Our first team builder is Wednesday and that starts early with cow milking,” he says with a huge smile on his pale face.

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