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The firepits glowed merrily, and party lights were strung generously around the patios, making the whole scene look like something out of a holiday card. The only thing missing was the snow.
My mind was spinning, as if Archie Kasper might burst through the door at any second and shout, “Boo!” I knew it was ridiculous, but when you’d spent years fixated on a name, on a person you’d never even met, they became a specter in the shadows. And being in the physical location where I suspected my ghost actually lived had my nerves skittering directionless within me.
Christine had immediately gone to the bedroom, and was already nestled against the headboard of one of the queen beds with her laptop open on a pillow.
I stepped into the doorway of the room, still cataloging the luxuries surrounding me suddenly. This place was incredible.
“Want to go explore with me?” I asked Christine, needing to wander a bit, and figuring there was a chance she’d be up for it.
“Are you kidding? I’m not going out there again until I have to.” She grinned. “I promise I’ll be all charged up for breakfast and workshops tomorrow, okay?”
“Dinner?” I asked hopefully.
Christine held up a protein bar and a bottle of water.
I nodded, part of me glad for the chance to explore a bit on my own. Christine knew about my cover story opportunity, but I hadn’t told her about my ulterior motive for attending this conference and wasn’t sure I wanted to. The odds were goodthat there really was nothing for me to find here that hadn’t been covered in the few articles that had been written about the accident. Archie Kasper was probably just a guy who’d moved on with his life after a horrible tragedy, and I honestly respected him a bit for that. I imagined it would be just as hard to move past being so immediately involved in someone’s death as it would be to have lost someone. I had to admit though, there was a part of me that ruffled at the idea anyone could blithely go on after what had happened to my brother. Maybe there was a bit of my parents’ bitterness still inside me. Or maybe it was just grief.
Either way, my goal in exploring was to see if maybe I could stumble upon something that would give me a clue about where to find out more—about Archie, or about the treasure hunt my editor was so fascinated by. It certainly wouldn’t happen if I holed up in our room.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit,” I told her, pocketing my key card and heading for the door. I tugged on my jacket and stepped out into the hallway.
The resort was enormous, and I spent the next two hours exploring every nook and cranny. There were the usual things—a gift shop, a restaurant plus a cafeteria-style area that I suspected catered to skiers and snowboarders during the ski season—I grabbed a quick sandwich there and ate as I watched the other writers chat and move around me. A few smiled and said hello, but there was a muted air about the attendees moving around, like we were all saving up our social energy for tomorrow, when the conference would really begin. There was the gorgeous bar off the lobby, and plenty of tucked away areas to just sit and stare out the windows at the mountain behind us. But there were unexpected things too—a bowling alley, an arcade, a movie theater, and a spa, all tucked down one side of the property.
And unsurprisingly, there were writers almost everywhere. I did spend a half hour in the bar, sipping the resort’s premiumwhiskey, which the bartender proudly explained that his brother made back in Maryland. The bottle sported an image of a little disheveled cat with his back legs in a wheelchair contraption. It was fittingly called “Half Cat Whiskey,” which I wasn’t sure I was supposed to find funny. Especially when the bartender went on to tell me that the cat was real and lived at the distillery and had a ridiculous name: Mr. Fluffynuts.
Eventually, I tired of negotiating for space everywhere I went. I’d seen no signs of the resort’s owner, and unsurprisingly there were no treasure or clues lying around, and I wasn’t even sure where to begin with that. My shoulders slid down a bit as exhaustion and disappointment settled on them, and I wandered back up the stairs, passing my floor and heading for the very top of the resort. Had I really thought this story would write itself so easily? That I’d just show up here and be invited into a treasure quest that supposedly had been going on for years? The cover story was a long shot—I’d known that up front. And I still had the original story I’d pitched to fall back on, but my career-making shot felt like it was already dwindling away and I’d barely arrived here.
With no particular destination in mind, I wandered a hallway all the way to the other wing, and began descending again, only to find the stairs were closed after the fifth floor. I stood for a moment, contemplating my next move in front of the “under construction” sign, when a deep voice sounded from my side.
“Hi there. Can I help you get somewhere?”
I swung around, feeling suddenly guilty, like I’d been caught somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. “Ah, hi. Um, no...” My nervous laugh chased the nonsense out of my mouth. “Sorry, I was just exploring.”
The handsome face before me broke into a half-smile, the blue eyes twinkling for a split second before taking a darker,more serious cast again. “I get it. This place was made to be explored,” he said.
He watched me as I looked up at him, something familiar in the deep rich mahogany of his hair, the square cut of his jawline.
“I’m Archie Kasper,” he said, offering me a hand to shake.
He might as well have slapped me, and I stepped back without meaning to. “Oh. Uh.” Brilliant. This was why I focused on the written word.
His smile fell along with the outstretched hand, and now the dark red brows lowered over those cloudy blue eyes.
“Sorry, I’m just surprised is all. I’m Emily,” I said, regaining myself. “Kasper. So you own the resort?”
The half-smile was back, along with a dimple to one side of it, and I forced myself to listen to him talk, even though my father’s voice was drowning out most of what was in my head. This was the man responsible for my brother’s death. This was the bad guy in every story I’d been told.
But the man in front of me didn’t look evil. He looked...haunted, if I was being honest. Something in his eyes just didn’t quite connect, and there was worry etched in lines around his sculpted lips.
“My sister and me, yeah,” he was saying. “We’ve been rebuilding it for a few years now.” He gestured toward the closed staircase. “This is mostly the staff wing, so it’s the last to get any attention.”
I glanced around, realizing I might be somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know.” I’d wanted a chance to meet Archie Kasper, but I hoped it wouldn’t be while he reprimanded me for being in a staff-only area of the resort.
“It’s fine,” he said, easing my fears, and without speaking our intent, we both began walking down the long hallway, leaving the stairs behind us.
Thoughts flung wildly through my head. This was my chance—but what should I say? Did I ask about the accident, tell him who I was? No, if I did that, I’d probably kill all chances of getting the cover story. I needed to learn about the hunt. About the resort. And then, I’d find a way to tell him who I was.
“So you and your sister inherited this resort, right?”
