Alaska Reunion

by Jennifer Snow

  “Anyway, I think you’re worrying for nothing. He’s probably off jetting around the world and won’t even show up.”

  He hadn’t RSVP’d one way or another yet, so Callum might be right. Brent rarely returned to Wild River now that both his parents had moved to Arizona to retire, and as an only child, he didn’t have any other family to visit.

  “Maybe,” she said. She didn’t want to go to the reunion, so why was she secretly hoping that Brent would say yes? If he did, there was no way she could not go. There hadn’t been an opportunity to see him since he’d left Wild River. She wouldn’t turn down the chance that maybe...

  He’d see her and confess his undying love. Yeah, right.

  Maybe it was time to lay off the romantic comedies for a while.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE BLINKING CURSOR on Callum’s laptop screen taunted him. It had for days. He’d been flying through his manuscript, the thoughts and ideas and perfect wording flowing from his mind to his fingertips... Then it had stopped. The dreaded saggy middle, as he’d heard some bestselling authors refer to it, was a real thing.

  And now he understood the frustration. His first attempt at compiling his prose into a full-length work of creative nonfiction, after years of reading craft books and taking online courses, wasn’t exactly going as he’d imagined. Maybe short stories were all he’d ever successfully complete.

  “More coffee?” Gillian, his usual waitress at Carla’s Diner, asked, approaching his booth in the corner with her pot of coffee. The owner’s daughter worked the night shift every day. She was raising money for her backpacking trip across Europe the following year.

  Therefore, after tip, Callum’s several pots of coffee cost almost as much as if he harvested the beans himself. He liked to support other people’s dreams.

  “You know most people go on dates on Saturday nights,” she said as she leaned one hip against the table.

  There was only one woman in town he wanted to date and she was completely oblivious. Callum was in love with his coworker. Head over heels, can’t eat, can’t sleep, give-up-the-lifeboat in love with her. But Ellie wouldn’t notice if he spelled it out with old pages of the classic books she lovingly placed on the bookstore shelves every day.

  It was one of the reasons he worked at Flippin’ Pages. Getting to see her in her element every day, to see her passion for the works of literature she cared about so vehemently, was inspiring.

  And right now, Callum could use some inspiration. Anything at all.

  He lifted his half-empty cup for a top-up and smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Gillian flushed as though she’d happily accommodate and glanced at the laptop. “What are you always working on so intently, anyway?”

  He closed the file and shrugged. “Nothing exciting.” He’d never told anyone about his passion for writing. Not his parents, not his friends... The only person who might not be surprised to learn he was writing a book was his high school English teacher who’d encouraged him to write more, claiming she saw potential in his short stories and essays.

  Probably the worst thing to happen to someone with big dreams—having one person encourage them.

  “You’re still not going to tell me, huh?”

  She asked all the time, and it was tempting to actually tell someone. If for no other reason than to put it out there and put more pressure on himself to finish the damn thing. But he wasn’t prepared to call himself a writer just yet. He wasn’t even sure what he planned to do with the work in progress. It wasn’t like he could really publish it. “I think I’ll keep my secret a little longer,” he said with a smile.

  “Okay, well, if you need anything other than coffee, let me know,” she said with a wink, and a new sway of her hips appeared as she walked away. She had great hips and a great ass and a great smile. There was literally nothing not great about Gillian.

  Except that she wasn’t Ellie.

  But he had to be careful. Coming into the diner to write all the time might be giving Gillian the wrong idea, especially when their casual chitchat bordered on flirting. He didn’t want to lead her on.

  The truth was, he couldn’t write at home. His apartment was too quiet, and he ended up getting distracted by chores or the baseball game on TV. Here, he’d learned to appreciate the background noise of other customers, the clanging of dishes, the ring of the old-fashioned cash register, the chime of the door as people came and went. It was all ambience, a soundtrack he didn’t really hear, but it helped to drown out his own random, everyday thoughts that interrupted his creativity.

  His cell chimed with a new text message, and he groaned inwardly seeing his brother Sean’s name on the display screen. He hadn’t responded to his father’s message that day, so now he was siccing his brother on him.

  Picking it up, he read, Monthly meeting tomorrow at 9 a.m. in the Chugach Ballroom. It’s mandatory.

  Mandatory. Meaning if he didn’t attend the hotel management meeting, he could kiss his access to his trust fund goodbye. His father refused to believe that he had zero interest in the hotel business or in joining forces with his brother to take over running the Wild River Resort Hotel someday. He’d walk away from the fund if there was a way to do so and still be able to give to the charities he supported. He’d hate to stop donating because he suddenly needed the money he made at the bookstore, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up.

  He had his own goals...

  Ones that were taking a little longer than he’d hoped.

  But if he could finish this book and grow a set of balls big enough to actually submit his work to publishers, then maybe he wouldn’t need his family’s money anymore. It would also most likely mean severing all ties with his family.

  If walking away permanently from the family business would be seen as a direct insult to his father, this creative nonfiction project, which was only a thinly veiled account of their family’s personal life stories, would be even worse. His father would never understand Callum’s need to write about his childhood and young adult experiences as a way to move through them, just like he’d never understood the damage he’d caused to their family over the years.

  Maybe it wasn’t writer’s block but a realization of what this project meant that had him stalling. He stared at the last paragraph he’d written, desperate for a muse to start talking to him again. Unfortunately, the only being that seemed interested in communicating with him was the pretty waitress staring at him from across the diner.

  * * *

  WALKING INTO THE Wild River Resort Hotel the next morning, Callum braced himself for two hours of mind-numbingly boring stats and figures regarding tourism traffic, projected revenue for the upcoming season and updates from each hotel department. Every month it was the same dull slide show presentation and a lot of patting one another on the back. He wasn’t sure how many more of these he could handle. He really had no business even being there, and everyone knew it. He’d never worked inside the hotel. As a teenager, he’d loved to hang out there—use the pool and spa facilities and the state-of-the-art workout room—but he hadn’t developed a passion for the tourism industry the way his father had hoped. Maybe if Callum’s grandfather had still been running things, he might have. His grandfather had been an amazing businessman who’d claimed his greatest resource was his employees. He’d treated everyone who worked for one of his hotels like family. He’d known every single person by name and had a way of making everyone feel special. He’d hosted employee family events, even closing the resorts for a week once a year and offering the facilities to staff for staycations. Callum’s grandfather had made running the hotels seem fun and exciting, but when his father took over the string of McKendrick properties, any interest Callum had felt vanished. His father cared about bottom lines and profit. Full stop. And it was evident to everyone who attended these monthly meetings.

  Unfortunat
ely, Callum had been ambushed.

  Inside the ballroom, his father and his brother, Sean, sat alone at the long mahogany boardroom table. That was it. No managers, no staff, no board of directors. Just his family members staring at him, annoyed that he was late.

  Callum sighed as he approached the table. “Dad, Sean... Not such a great turnout today, huh?”

  “I moved the meeting to this afternoon,” his father, Alan, said, either missing or ignoring Callum’s sarcasm as he gestured for him to sit. “Have a seat.”

  The stern tone left no room for argument. It never had. Growing up, he and his brother had quickly learned that things had to be Alan’s way or no way at all. The relationship between father and sons had been strained at best. Damaged was the word their family therapist had used on more than one occasion when Callum’s mother had been successful in dragging Alan to the sessions. After several years of trying and failing to get her husband to realize his demanding, workaholic ways and unrealistic expectations were destroying the family, Callum’s mother, Carolyn, had finally given up.

  She’d been able to walk away from the unhealthy marriage, but unfortunately, he and Sean were still left in the trenches.

  “What’s going on?” He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat.

  His brother avoided his eyes, his hands flicking a series of elastic bands on his wrist beneath his own suit jacket. Under the table, his knee bounced.

  Great. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

  His father wasted no time launching into his attack. “As you know, I’m retiring next year and I want you to get serious about your life.”

  This again. It had been almost three months since the last time his father had delivered this particular lecture, so he should have expected it.

  “I am serious.” And besides that, his father’s definition of retiring was very different from most people’s. He’d be retiring in theory only, based on pressure from the board to bring in fresh blood and new ideas. The Wild River Resort Hotel had always been known for its luxury accommodations in the ski resort town, but recent focus groups had revealed that young travelers often found the place “stuffy” with its brown leather furnishings throughout the common areas and “cigar smoking, boy’s club” vibe. The plan for the following year was to redecorate and rebrand slightly, with the current generation of McKendricks at the helm.

  Of course, his father would hand off the business, but he’d still have a finger on the pulse of things. And working alongside him was something Callum would never survive, even if he was the least bit interested in the hospitality industry.

  His father wasn’t the type of leader who encouraged collaboration and ideas. He was more dictatorial in his management style and treated those below him as hired help. He didn’t try to get to know his staff, and he certainly didn’t have an open door policy. Callum and his father were far too different and would only butt heads at every turn.

  “Working at a bookstore?” Alan said. “That’s your idea of serious? Come on, Callum, you have an Ivy League education. Is stacking books really what you see for yourself?” His disappointed look was the biggest kick to the gut. As though he was questioning how he’d failed so greatly with his younger son.

  Amazing that it still landed its mark with sniper precision.

  “No, the bookstore isn’t the only thing...” But there was no way he was telling his father the truth. Trying to become a writer would be seen as a pipe dream. Unattainable. In his father’s mind there were different levels of dreams. Owning a luxury hotel was achievable because it could be done by practical means—a good education, a strong support system and investors, a safe risk assessment and hard work. Becoming a published author was like wishing on a shooting star. “I’m working on some things,” he said, simply.

  “What things?” Alan folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. The look of interest on the older man’s face was a trick. This was his father’s way of convincing himself he was open-minded. If Callum could present another option for his future—one his dad approved of—he’d hear him out.

  But that wasn’t the case at all. Anything Callum proposed right now, his father would find a reason to dismiss. “Why don’t we just cut to the chase, Dad? You obviously have an agenda with this meeting, so let’s get to it.”

  Next to him, Sean stared at his hands and remained silent. This was the way it always was. While Callum continuously battled with his father, Sean knew there was no point in even trying, so he stayed quiet.

  Just once, it would be nice to have his older brother’s backing.

  “I want you to take over running the hotel,” Alan said.

  “And I’ve told you I’m not interested.” Several times. It continued to fall on deaf ears. His father firmly believed that Callum owed him this. That being born into a life of privilege came with responsibilities.

  “Well, you haven’t really expressed an interest in anything,” Alan said, moving quickly to the ultimatum part of his speech. “I’m not funding this lifestyle of yours forever.”

  How many times had he heard that threat?

  “I’ve never asked you to.” Access to his trust fund had been given to him when he’d turned eighteen on the agreement that he continue his education and complete the MBA program. His only passion and interest had been writing, so he hadn’t argued with the agreement. He’d studied hard, kept his perfect GPA and used his electives to take creative writing classes. It had worked. But now things were different. He couldn’t keep putting off the inevitable since he was no longer at university.

  “I want a decision in thirty days,” his father said, confirming Callum’s thought. “If you’re going to take over running the hotel, you need to start your official training next month.”

  Official training. Under him. Was there a worse fate?

  His father stared straight into his eyes as he delivered his next blow. “You’re either in this family or you’re not.”

  Hearing the dismissal, Callum stood and pushed the chair back in. It hit against the table a little too abruptly and he kicked himself for allowing his father to see that he’d gotten to him.

  His brother’s voice calling after him as he left the room made him stop and turn in the hotel hallway. “Could have warned me,” he said.

  Sean looked stressed as he ran a hand through his short, dark hair. His eyes were bloodshot and he was definitely thinner than the last time Callum had seen him weeks before. His navy suit jacket seemed to hang on a skeletal frame. “I’m sorry, man. I had no idea that’s what this was about.”

  Callum put his hands on his hips and fought to calm his thundering pulse. His father knew how to get under his skin like no one else. “I just don’t get it. How many times do I have to tell him I’m not interested in running the hotel?”

  “You should take it as a compliment,” Sean said.

  His brother would feel that way. Sean would give anything for their father to be so adamant about him taking over. As the oldest, Sean would be the logical choice. Unfortunately, his brother suffered from extreme anxiety issues... It didn’t take a therapist to understand where those issues had come from. But despite the damage their father had inflicted on him, Sean was fiercely loyal to the old man. Callum knew he’d turned down several offers from competing hotel chains over the last few years. His experience and knowledge made him an appealing candidate to others.

  And it devastated his older brother that their father didn’t see him as the one to take over the family business, when even strangers could see his work ethic and potential. Just as it devastated Callum that he was seen as the obligatory choice.

  “Look, he needs to see that you are the better man for this,” he said, touching Sean’s shoulder. His brother may be three years his senior, but Callum had always been more of the protector, the one who looked out for him. His brother’s confidence had been shaken by their father’s d
isregard for years, and it added to Callum’s frustration with the man.

  “He’s never going to trust me the way he trusts you,” Sean said.

  “Well, he should. You know the business better than he does.” His brother hadn’t completed university, but he’d been on the ground, learning the business for years. He’d shadowed every position in the hotel from housekeeping to catering to the front desk. He knew it inside out, and more than anything he wanted to take over. He enjoyed working with the staff and the managers, and everyone liked and respected Sean.

  Except the person who mattered most.

  “Thanks, man...” Sean said, staring at the ground. “But I need to face reality. His first choice is you, and after that there’s a list of others he’d consider before me.” The snapping of the elastic bands at his wrist resumed.

  Callum sighed, knowing there was no point in disagreeing. Sean was right. Their father had zero faith in his older son and he made no secret about it. He treated Sean as a workhorse but refused to fully trust him with big decisions or responsibilities.

  Callum tapped his brother on the shoulder. “Hey, I’ve got a few hours before I have to go to work. Want to grab a drink?”

  Sean checked his watch. “It’s 9:30 a.m.”

  “Got something better to do?”

  Sean shook his head. “Lead the way.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “STORMY, COME EAT,” Ellie called as she set the food dish on the counter. While cats were common as bookstore fixtures, Flippin’ Pages had its own resident fox, and the bookstore’s new four-legged “employee” was as close as Ellie would get to owning a pet herself. She fed the arctic marble fox, cleaned the litter box, took her to all of her vet appointments, but she’d drawn the line at actually living with her upstairs in her apartment. It would be the last step into spinsterhood, one Ellie wasn’t quite ready to make just yet.