Three other men filed into the room, and though they were similarly dressed, they were all at least a decade older. The dynamic crystallized: Leo Cantrell might be young, but he was the boss, and he didn’t suffer fools. He was shrewd and ruthless, but he managed his ego and surrounded himself with people who knew more than he did. Noah liked him.
Leo leaned forward on his elbows. “I want to start by apologizing for the miscommunication between our two sides. I don’t know exactly when things jumped the rails—pun intended—but Miss Jones should have facilitated this meeting rather than acting as a roadblock. I assure you that issue has been dealt with. Now, I’ve discounted most of what I’ve learned about what you’re looking to do simply because that information is tainted by other people’s filters—including Miss Jones’s. I want to hear about your vision directly from you. Fill in the blanks for me.”
Noah put aside several thoughts taking up space in his head: Did Leo know about his and Ursula’s past? Was Ursula’s leave tied to Leo’s obvious frustration with her? Somewhere in there bobbed the question of whether Leo and Ursula’s relationship was more than boss and subordinate. Leo was the kind of guy Ursula would target, and while Noah didn’t care about any intimacy they shared, he did care if he had an unforeseen set of obstacles to overcome.
Leo sat back and steepled his hands. “Let’s start with why you want to resurrect a train whose usefulness is a thing of the past.”
“Its past is exactly why it’s useful.” Noah launched into his speech about the unparalleled opportunity the train presented, tempering his passion as he did so.
Leo nodded when Noah was done. “You should know your idea intrigued us when it was first brought to our attention. We’ve approached the rail line, and they’re open to selling. But restore it all the way to its current termination point in Fall River? That’s an enormous undertaking. So tell me why we should.”
Noah reined in his excitement. “Besides the fact that Fall River’s your closest town with such a huge potential upside? It’s all about the heritage. Not only does the original rail line terminate in Fall River, but the town’s a historical destination primed to be exploited for tourism to our mutual benefit. People are looking for experiences, and we can provide a unique one.
“If it’s done right, it will be a destination vacation for people with lots of money to spend—skiers, golfers, wedding-goers. They ride a luxury train to Fall River, where your shuttles pick them up and bring them to the resort. It’s an all-inclusive experience where they don’t need to worry about driving themselves through twisty mountain roads. If they want to sightsee, your shuttles can provide that—for a fee. They can also ferry them to Fall River for a quaint small-town experience that includes dining and shopping.”
One side of Cantrell’s mouth quirked. “I’ve seen Fall River. You have some work to do to become a ‘quaint small town.’”
“Just as Silver Summit has had its work to do, carving this place out of a broken-down old mining camp.”
“Touché, Mr.Hunnicutt.”
One of the other men piped up. “Won’t the locals resent being overrun by tourists? They have to be on board if we’re creating an ‘experience’ tourists will flock to.”
Noah shrugged. “There are naysayers in every town, including ours, but they’re in the minority. The other side of that coin is the folks who’ll be able to make a decent living in their own backyard and take pride as the town is restored.”
“Who’s going to pay for it?”
“Investors, townsfolk, your resort. There’s money in Fall River, but until now there’s been little incentive to put it into the town itself. And you have one of the best historical renovation companies on the entire Western Slope located right in Fall River.”
Cantrell didn’t flinch. “Past Perfect Restorations. That’s your brother’s company, right?”
“Yes. He has some innovative ideas for the depot that I think you gentlemen will like.”
What should have been an hour-long meeting stretched into two and continued for a third as they lunched together. Noah left the meeting with an invitation to return in four days. “We have a group of investors who will be interested in an endeavor like this. We’re flying them in for some wining and dining, and I want them to meet you, so plan on staying overnight. It’ll be a late one.”
Noah immediately accepted.
He had arrived at Silver Summit on pins and needles and left riding on a cloud. He couldn’t wait to share the good news with Hailey, his brothers … hell, the entire town. Strolling to his truck, he checked his text messages and smiled at the string Hailey had left. She was sitting at the hockey game now, and he could call and tell her the good news on his way back. If he timed it right, he might even arrive before the end of the third period.
Tucking his phone in his back pocket, he slid out his keys and hit the fob. His eye caught on a flyer fluttering beneath his windshield wiper. Looking around the parking lot, he realized his was the only vehicle with a paper stuffed beneath the wiper. Dread began a slow ooze through his veins.
Though his heart kicked into a gallop, he told himself to take slow strides. When he reached his vehicle, he jerked out the piece of whitefolded paper, tossed it onto the passenger seat, and left the parking lot. Only when the resort was out of sight in his rearview did he pull onto a turnout and unfold the message. In a font identical to the one in Hailey’s notes, chilling words spelled out:You screwed up big-time, and you’re going to pay.
His heart dropped.
Four days later, Noahwas packing an overnight bag while Hailey watched from where she sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s my hoochie mama going to do while I’m gone?”
“Chance and I are going to eat popcorn and ice cream and drink your best tequila while we binge on that surfer girl docuseries.”
He whipped his head toward her. “You thinking about getting back into the sport?”
“And where around here would I do that?” she scoffed.
Realizing she wasn’t contemplating returning to her old life, he eased a tick. “They have river surfing. Right in Montrose, as a matter of fact.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not surfing. Besides, I’m happy to live vicariously from the comfort of your couch. The snacks and liquor are better here.”
With a chuckle, he pulled a pair of boxer briefs, socks, and a T-shirt from his dresser. “Well, keep the partying to a minimum. I don’t want my dog getting sick. And if hedoesget sick, you’re cleaning up the mess.” Relief waved through him as he thought of her safely tucked away in his loft. He’d had to talk her out of staying at the Loose Moose “one last time.” She’d argued that Chance needed a good romp in the bungalow’s yard. “They don’t allow dogs there,” he’d countered when her stubborn streak had threatened to outmuscle his.
