The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska #1)(110)

Lana loved Moose Springs in a way she’d never loved anything before. It had stolen her heart and soul since her first visit as a young child, and she was determined to drive a stabilizing steel bar through the picturesque Alaskan town’s shaky, tourism-driven economy no matter what. But just because she believed in what she was doing didn’t mean the town did too.

Lana hadn’t given up hope she could get them on board with her plans, but as of yet, she had very little support in the community or her holding company.

“Ask for forgiveness, not permission,” she murmured to herself as they slowed. Calling forward over the rumble of the engines, she asked Ben, “Are you sure we can’t break ground sooner?”

“Not unless we want to be digging through eight feet of snow.”

Lana’s work schedule limited her time in Moose Springs, but she was invested in doing this project right. For months, she and Ben had been up to their elbows in architect plans, zoning requirements, and a sleigh full of red tape. She’d hoped their progress would have been further by now.

“I thought construction during winter was the norm in Alaska,” Lana said.

“Yeah, if you need a roof replaced or a kitchen remodeled. Not this behemoth.”

Lana pursed her lips. “I don’t suppose anyone would be willing to pay top dollar just to slide right on down the hill, would they?”

Ben jutted his chin towards the snowy penis. “They wouldn’t want to pay top dollar to sit in the resort and see this lovely beast either.”

“I know, Hannah’s been blowing up my phone.” The newly promoted General Manager of the resort had been emphatic Lana take care of it, or Hannah was hopping in one of the resort’s ski-slope-smoothing snowcats to do it herself.

“Listen,” Ben grunted. “It’s not impossible, but the costs for site prep are going to skyrocket and there’s not much we can do about getting material in until the access road up here gets widened and gravel down. Ever tried to off-road a semi loaded down with heavy equipment?”

“Point made. We wait until spring.” When Ben opened his mouth, Lana added, “Early spring. I’m getting this project done as fast as humanly possible. And Ben? When you start hiring day labor, supplement your crew with as many local hires as you can, please. It’ll save us on per diem.”

He gave her a knowing look but didn’t call Lana out on her decision. Her construction manager knew exactly why she wanted the locals to benefit from the jobs this project would provide.

She loved Moose Springs. Which only made it worse knowing they hated her.

In the distance, a heavy cloud clung to the top of the highest peak, one usually obscured by the weather on less clear days than this.

“Mount Veil is looking particularly ominous today,” she mentioned.

Ben glanced at the giant hovering in the distance. “Veil’s not Denali, but it’s one badass monster. You’ve never tried to climb it?”

“I’m more of a snowmobile girl.” Lana patted the handle of her ride.

“If you’re going to be a resident of Moose Springs, you’re going to need to use the right lingo. This is a snow machine.”

“I’m not a resident,” she informed him. “I stay in the resort.”

“You own property, don’t you?”

“The company owns property, not me.”

Chicago, London, Singapore, the Virgin Islands…the Montgomery Group had their hands everywhere. But just because it was easier to stay at her family’s holdings didn’t mean she belonged in any of them. In the first thirty some years of her life, Lana had learned a lot from the company. Negotiating a million-dollar deal over cocktails was a normal Thursday for her. She could out-maneuver veteran CEO’s while making a single martini double twist to perfection. But she’d never learned how to feel at home.

“Buying land doesn’t make you part of a town, Ben. I wish it were that easy.”

“Well, ma’am, either way, you had better get down to the town hall meeting.”

“Why is that?”

Ben grinned at her. “Because they’re still trying to figure out how to get rid of you.”

*

Most town hall meetings were held in, well, a town hall. But not Moose Springs.

In Moose Springs, town hall meetings were held in an abandoned barn on the far side of town, complete with snow piled up around the building to near impassability. If one wanted to get to the barn door closest to her parking spot, they better have some gumption and a sturdy pair of shoes.

Lana had the first but not so much the second. She spent too much time in boardrooms to remember that Moose Springs liked to make things as difficult as possible.

When she reached the door, it stuck, so Lana put her weight behind her pull. Apparently someone had stacked a pile of three-foot-tall plastic Christmas elves against the other side of the door, because when it finally swung open, the elves saw their chance to make their escape. She jumped back to avoid the avalanche, ending up in a snowbank halfway to her now very cold knees. The closest elf was facedown in a boot hole, looking like it had officially given up on making it through the holidays with a semblance of dignity.

As everyone in the back few rows turned in their seats to stare at her through the open doorway, Lana knew the feeling.

“There’s another entrance on the other side,” someone muttered.