Page 2 of Spring Showers

Coming around a bend, she found herself entering a thick and overgrown forest of towering pines. Sunlight filtered through the branches and soon enough gave way to a clearing. A green sign hung over the roadway announcing she was entering Christmas Cove. The speed limit dropped to ten miles per hour and the asphalt surface switched to a worn-down cobblestone that vibrated the car chassis. Slowing to the recommended speed, the jouncing lessened considerably.

Main Street was everything she had thought a quiet New England town should look like. A row of two- and three-story buildings stood sandwiched together and lined both sides of the street. Painted awnings provided shade and protected the glass storefronts, while the bay windows shimmered in the clear, late morning sun.

Upon closer inspection, she realized that many of the buildings were vacant, though there was a small shop that had a giantComing Soonsign in the window. At the far end, a pink Victorian house was surrounded by scaffolding, and a dumpster on one side was overflowing with construction debris. Spring was blooming everywhere she looked, in the overgrown gardens, the cracks of the pavement, and even the window boxes hanging on an old gray house.

A right turn down a long, single-lane dirt road brought her to a large building that looked like a converted barn, though little remained of what a typical barn might look like other than the iconic shape. Charcoal-colored board-and-batten hugged the structure’s exterior, with windows that stretched from ground to roof in wide intervals. Just inside, a dramatic crystal chandelier dangled from the high peak and reflected the sunlight back outside like glitter. At the entrance to the circular driveway, two granite pillars held a carved wooden sign that read,The Foundry Retreat.

CHAPTER2

Grant gazed out the window at one impressive little tugboat bringing a large ship into Seattle’s busy port. He tapped his fingers on the chrome edge of the desk in front of him, as though the action could somehow assist the tug. What it did was break the silence in the office. Quiet was not something he enjoyed. It often allowed too much room for his own thoughts to come through. Waiting was even worse. Now, he contended with both. A clock ticked and clicked from its place on a bookshelf, sounding in time with his pulse. Perhaps his pulse was matching the clock instead, but being a corporate consultant meant he was accustomed to operating on someone else’s schedule. Working for different firms constantly meant sitting back and practicing hispatientface.

Today, he happened to use the reflection in the glass of a framed photo sitting on the desktop to check on how his face was doing. Semi-convincing, as usual, though he felt his expression had improved slightly over the years.

Behind the glass was an image of a perfect and happy family, with two parents and three children wearing matching outfits and smiling with unusually white teeth. The watermark in the corner gave the phony family away.Who keeps a photo of a fake family on their desk?Grant wondered. The people’s appearance in the stock photo may have been enhanced before the frame hit store shelves, but Grant’s teeth were just as straight and just as white as theirs. His hair, on the other hand, was nowhere near perfect. It was a mess, like always.

No matter what he did to tame his thick, dishwater-blond waves, his hair would end up doing whatever it wanted, which was typically falling down on his forehead and tickling his brows. Leaning back into the semi-circular chair, he brushed his fingers back through his mop and propped his feet up on the edge of the desk.

Waiting. No matter the city, or what CEO’s office he sat in, the delays were all the same. Never once had the other person been on time. But if he must wait, at least this office had a fantastic view. He gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows and watched the ferry boats crossing Elliott Bay.

A shiny glass clock with its exposed gears dinged the hour, which meant his meeting was now half an hour behind schedule. He’d care more if he had anything better to do. He didn’t know a soul in Seattle. He had no dinner plans, no museums to peruse, and no hot date to speak of, nor did he plan to stick around long enough to meet anyone.

Heavy footfalls vibrated in the hallway and approached his direction. Grant tore himself from his casual and reclined position, and straightened his spine just as the door opened behind his shoulder. Quickly, he aligned the photo frame where it had been, and stood up.

A man, about Grant’s age but with much tidier hair, entered the office. His eyes were buried in his phone’s screen, and he blindly reached out his hand towards Grant.

Grant shot his hand out, enthusiastic to make a good impression as he introduced himself. “Grant Goldie. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Their hands met and shook firmly.

“Call me Davis.” He motioned for Grant to take a seat and finally looked up from his device. “I appreciate you coming in on a Sunday. But as you know, money doesn’t take a day off.” He laughed at himself.

“It’s not a problem,” Grant said.

Davis took a turn around the desk and paused at the window, looking down. “They’re like little ants down there. Running back and forth, performing their little jobs, with no idea what it takes for people like us to keep it all going, you know?”

Grant did not relate. To him, money was just money. Sure, people needed a certain amount to live on, but more than that, he knew that money rarely made people happy. It turned out, he was just good with numbers. And reading people. Even so, in his business, he ran into many men like Davis who believed themselves to be the masters of the universe, so he replied, “Yep.”

Davis grunted an agreement from his place at the window.

“Shall we get started?” Grant asked. “I got the package from your office, and I’m up to speed on the framework financials.”

Davis took his seat with his back to the window. “I’m glad you could come out to Seattle and meet with me. I think it’s important that we meet in person. Whether it’s one dollar or a million, I need to see who I’m trusting, eye to eye. I don’t take my ventures lightly.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“I hear you’re the best of the best when it comes to your analysis.”

Grant was accustomed to his reputation preceding him, but it never got easier to accept the praise heaped upon him. “Well, I don’t know if I’m the best but?—”

“Humble, I like it. Good start,” Davis said and continued his speech. “I’m looking at investing in a couple of boutique resorts on the east coast. I’m considering at least two properties as of now. I’m sure you read about it in the package my office sent over.”

Grant nodded but couldn’t get a word in.

“The one I’m having you go see is called The Foundry. I forget why they called it that, but it’s a high-end retreat and there’s nothing else like it in the area. Apparently there was a lake, which dried up some years ago. Recently, someone purchased many of the abandoned properties along the old shore. The retreat property can host a variety of different events throughout the year, which is what interested me in the first place. The Foundry can host seasonal retreats, wellness weeks, writing intensives, the options are endless really.”

“But the owner needs the money to make it all happen?” Grant added.

“You got it,” Davis snapped his fingers. “Someone I know is involved with the project, so I thoughtImight be interested in taking a look also. It’s a quaint town and I’ve been on the hunt for something situated close enough to the city for people to utilize as a getaway. Plus, from what I hear, the owner has done a lot of work already. My point is, the place is set to open tomorrow, and I need you to be there. The goal here is to assess the long-term viability of the project. Even if I have other reasons for wanting to invest, it still needs to make financial sense. You’ll need to investigate the property itself and make certain that you report on the staff?—”

“Sir, I apologize for cutting you off, but I got this,” Grant assured, though his impatience was showing. “This is what I do. I research the local area, see if the community can support a fluctuating population, and get a sense of the local support for the project. I’ll look closely at the financials and the overall quality of the experience. People will pay if the value is there.”

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