A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain)

REED

As soon as Ava unlocks the offices, I pass her desk and enter my father’s office.

She follows me. “What could you possibly need in here?”

I don’t answer the question. Not yet, anyway. Dad’s laptop is on his desk, and on its underside, I find one of those stick-on tracking devices that help people retrieve lost items. I wedge my thumbnail under the tile-shaped tracker and peel it off the metal surface.

“Reed! What are you doing?”

“You control this thing, right?”

“I maintain the account, if that’s what you’re asking. But don’t steal that, Reed. We need that thing.”

“I’m not stealing it, I’m borrowing it. You’ll have it back tomorrow. Thanks,” I say as if it’s settled.

“Reed! Are you going to explain? I’m worried.”

“You’ll see. I just need to keep track of something. Will this thing run out of batteries?”

Slowly, she shakes her head. “Probably not.”

“Awesome.” I slip it into my pocket and head for the lobby.

“Hey, wait up,” she says.

“Let me just take care of this?” I beg. “I don’t want to implicate you.”

“What?” Ava hurries after me, as I feared she would. “Reed, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be scared.” I catch her hand in mine. “Hey, look at this crowd.” The lobby is filling up with travelers in ski jackets, snow in their hair. It’s Friday night on opening weekend, and the air that blows through the lobby doors smells like snow.

I’d forgotten this buzz of excitement that happens when the season begins. The hum of anticipation used to send me off to sharpen my skis on the workbench in the ski shop. The place would be full of seasonal workers tuning up the rental skis, blasting music, and arguing about whose turn it was to pay for beer.

Pushing those memories aside, I look for the bellhop who’d taken my keys. He’s not back yet. He must still be fetching my car or parking someone else’s.

I take a look at Ava, who’s watching me with a wary expression. “What are you playing at?” She’s wearing a red suit, a snowy blouse, and demure pearl earrings. She looks like a sexy office angel.

A pissed-off angel. If that’s a thing.

The elevator dings, and all the Sharpes exit it. Crap. I’m running out of time. “Where are the bellhops?” I whisper. “Are you sure this place is adequately staffed?”

Ava gives me a glare that could start a forest fire. She steps up to the doors, and they part for her automatically. “Hardy! Who’s bringing around Reed’s SUV?”

“It’s coming, ma’am,” he says, strolling into view, holding a snow shovel. The kid is out there scraping the first dusting of snow off the sidewalk already, proving that the place really is well run.

The SUV rolls up a half second later, just as the Sharpes reach the door.

“Perfect!” I say, clapping my hands together. “Right this way, guys. The keys are in it.” All I need is a reason to open one of the doors and drop the tracker. “Hey—you’ll need a shovel, just in case you have to dig out the car. Can’t be too careful.”

I step up to the bellhop and remove the shovel from his hands. He blinks at me, surprised, but he doesn’t argue. I open the SUV’s hatch, place the shovel inside, and then I discreetly sneak the tracker under the shovel.

“Have a great evening! Take care in the snow.”

I slam the hatch and step away from the car. Then I give the Sharpes a wave and head back inside the hotel.

Naturally, Ava is right on my heels. “What the hell did you just do?” she whisper shouts as I head for the elevator. “You’re stalking them now?”

“That’s too strong a word,” I insist. “It’s my version of due diligence.”

“You don’t think they’re going to dinner in Denver?” she asks. “Why would they lie about that?”

“No idea. Do you have the tracking app on your phone?”

She scowls. “Who wants to know?”

The elevator door slides open, and I sweep a hand forward, ushering her into the car.

She glares at me for a beat before stepping inside. “When did you become paranoid and cynical, Reed? The guy I knew in college wasn’t either of those things.”

“They teach it at business school. Let’s check out this Colorado Suite you put me in. How’s the room service menu these days?”

She blinks. “What? Why?”

“Because I feel like some refreshments while I wait to see what our suitors are up to. Got any favorite dishes?”

“The artichoke dip.”

“Ooh, good pick. Wine? Bottle of moonshine?”

She shudders, and I laugh.

The elevator doors part, and Ava points out the door to my new hotel room. But she doesn’t look entirely happy about it.

I scan the key card, and when I open the door, I see Sheila sitting on the sofa, her feet up on the footstool, the fire crackling before her. “Something wrong with your room?” I ask.

“Yep,” she says. “It’s not as comfortable as yours. And I moved all your stuff in here from Harper’s room. Be grateful.”

“Oh. Well. Make yourself at home. Favorite selection from the room service menu?”

“The artichoke dip,” she says.

“Okay, what’s your second favorite?”

“The taquitos. And don’t kick me out until you hear what I dug up today. I’ve been a busy girl while I run up your tab.”

“Excellent. Hold on.” I place a food order on the room phone. Then I go into the bedroom and change out of my suit.

By the time I get back, Sheila and Ava are sharing the sofa, their feet up together, and discussing…shoes, maybe? Something girly like that.

But Ava is smiling now, so I guess I won’t kick Sheila out just yet. Ava hasn’t given me a smile since last night, and I’m a little worried about it.

“So what’s this news?” I ask Sheila when I can get a word in edgewise.

She opens her laptop and spins it around to show me a summary she’s written of Sharpe acquisitions from the past five years. “They have a few unsatisfied customers,” she says. “The seller of an eco-friendly golf course in Arizona told Bloomberg News that the Sharpes had promised never to use pesticides. But after they bought the place, they reversed all the ecological choices the seller had made.”

“Ouch,” I say. “Anything else?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” my assistant says. “The beach resort owner tells a similar story. She’d explained the environmental constraints of owning beachfront property, but they cut down a whole lot of trees and then just paid the fines they were levied.”

Ava rubs her forehead and sighs. “Do you happen to have any ibuprofen?”

“Sure he does!” Sheila says with a grin. “Boss, cure this woman’s headache.”

“Easy enough,” I say without rising from the chair. “Tell the Sharpes to take a hike.”

Ava frowns. And I get up to get her the painkillers.

Twenty minutes later, we’re eating appetizers and watching a blue dot move across my laptop screen as the Sharpes drive my rental car right past the highway entrance that would take them to Denver.

“Maybe they’re just going to dinner locally,” Sheila suggests. “But they wanted some privacy.”

Ava looks thoughtful. “Or maybe they’re meeting someone for drinks and then going to Denver?”

“But who?” I press. “And why not mention that?”

Ava sighs. “I don’t know, 007. But there could be a perfectly rational explanation.”

“Let’s see where they end up,” I say lightly. The direction of the car has already piqued my interest. The Sharpes are heading into Penny Ridge. A back-country skier could carve a direct path into town, but vehicles have to take a half-moon-shaped route around Madigan Mountain to get to Penny Ridge’s Main Street.

The blue dot moves slowly, but it’s not that big a town, and we’ll know in a few seconds if they’ll stop, or if they’ll turn toward the west and wander into the foothills.

“They passed the highway entrance a few miles ago, right?” Sheila asks.

“Right.”

“Maybe they just wanted to get a look at the town before getting on the highway?” Ava suggests.

I chuckle. “Maybe. Haven’t they been to Penny Ridge before?”

“Not Grandpa,” Ava says.

“Okay, sure,” I say. “A little sightseeing before dinner.”

Ava dips another wedge of pita into the artichoke dip and chews nervously. “Watching them is bizarre. I feel dirty.”

I lift my eyes to meet hers and watch as she blushes profusely. Her scowl says, not like that, dummy.

“When they were getting into the car,” Ava says, “Trey told me their reservation was at Corinne in downtown Denver. But they didn’t say for when.”

“You could check with the restaurant,” I point out.

She gives me a furious glare and then taps at her phone for a moment before placing a call. “Hello! Yes! My boss asked me to verify the timing of his reservation tonight. Last name is Sharpe, S-H-A-R-P-E.” She waits. And waits. I can feel the anxiety rolling off her straight spine.

Meanwhile, the blue dot on the tracking app stops moving. I zoom in as far as the software will allow. It shows me exactly which building they’re parked outside. Interesting.

“Okay. Sorry. I must have the wrong night. Thank you.” Ava hangs up and bows her head. “That bastard lied to my face,” she whispers.

“Unless the reservation was under another name,” I suggest gently.

She lifts her chin and pins me with sad eyes. “It won’t be. You were right, damn it. Something is off with them.”

I feel no satisfaction at being right. But I doubt she knows that. For a half second, I actually think it would have been better if I hadn’t bothered to show up here in Colorado.

But that’s not right, either. She’d end up working for these pricks.

Looking away from her defeated gaze, I take my phone and dial my father.

He answers on the first ring. “Yeah? Reed?”

“Dad, can I borrow your car?”

He cackles. “Now there’s a question I never get anymore.”

“Listen, I dropped a tracker into my rental before the Sharpes drove away, and now they’re parked outside Tucker Block’s house.”

There’s a silence on the line, and I wait for him to curse me out for interfering. But the explosion never comes. When he speaks, it’s only to say, “You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not.”

He groans. “That no-good, piece-of-shit…”

I’m not sure if he means the Sharpes or Block. But it doesn’t matter. “Dad, can I take your car? I want to do a little drive-by in town.”

“We can take mine,” Ava says. She’s already on her feet. “It’s right behind the building.”

“Actually, we’ll take Ava’s,” I say to my dad. “Gotta run.”

“Keep me posted,” he barks. “I’ll be here eating my feelings.”

I disconnect with a snort. It’s been a long time since I laughed at anything my father said.

“I’m wearing the wrong shoes again,” Ava grumbles, looking down at her pumps.

“Take mine!” Sheila’s already unlacing a pair of fashionable suede hiking boots in a girly shade of pale blue. “I’ll be right here finishing the appetizers and raiding Reed’s mini fridge.”

“You really do deserve that raise,” Ava says as she hurries to lace them up.

I grab my wool overcoat and also a packable down jacket I’d brought in case I actually found a moment to ski. “Here.” I thrust it at Ava. “Put this on. Let’s roll.”

For once, she doesn’t argue.

Five minutes later, we’re headed into town in Ava’s Subaru. I’d insisted on driving, on the pretense that I knew exactly where we were headed. “My caper, so I’ll captain it.”

“Fine,” she’d grumbled. But then she’d fallen silent for a couple of miles.

“You okay?”

“I guess.” She sighs. “Your father pays me pretty well. I like my job, Reed. I wanted that promotion. And I really wanted a vacation.”

Ouch. “I’m sorry. But if the Sharpes are in some kind of arrangement with Tucker Block, my dad might not sell.”

“Who is Block? Someone needs to explain what the hell is happening.”

“Block and my dad don’t like each other. Never have. When Dad met my mother, she was dating him.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah. That’s the family myth, anyway.”

“So they never speak. And now you think this Block guy is going into business with Team Sharpe?”

“Seems like it. Block owns a huge tract of land on the Main Street side of the mountain. When I was a kid, my parents approached Block about doubling the size of the skiable terrain, by—”

“—putting a ski lift in town,” she says, finishing my sentence. “I heard about this once in the canteen. Thought it was a cool idea.”

“It’s the only way to grow the resort. The only way my family could ever think of. But Block wouldn’t sell us the land.”

“And now someone else has the same idea,” Ava says.

“Maybe. I guess we’re about to find out.”

The car grows silent again as Ava broods in the other seat. I feel guilty. As if her sadness is all my fault. “Ava, are you okay?”

“Yes. Sort of? I don’t know.”

Ouch. “Is it, uh, work related? Or am I the asshole here?”

She groans. “It’s complicated, Reed. Everything was simple until Tuesday. And now it’s not. That is more or less your fault.”

“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Okay.”

Ava is right. I came to Colorado to help. I meant well.

Now it might all blow up in my face.