A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain #1)(74)

Even if none of them could ever be quite so special as Madigan Mountain.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that it could still be okay. I’m going to be the manager. I’m still getting my promotion. And everyone works for an asshole some time in her career, right?

“The last matter on my list,” the Madigans’ lawyer drones, “is an employment contract for Ava Aichers.” He looks up at me. “Have you been provided with a contract?”

I hesitate a half second. “Yes.”

Reed straightens. “Does it meet the terms set forth in our deal notes?”

Oh boy. All eyes are on me now. “Not exactly,” I say, opting for the truth.

“It’s substantially the same,” Trey argues. “She can take it up with me after this meeting.”

I swallow hard.

“What’s different about it, Ava?” Reed asks. “Can I see?”

I don’t hand it over, but I do answer the question. “One year is not substantially the same as two years,” I say coolly. “And a provisional year-end bonus is not the same as a raise.”

Reed’s eyes narrow as he turns to look at Trey. “Fix it. Now.”

“Are we really going to hold up an eighty-million-dollar property agreement for a few thousand dollars in the manager’s contract?” Grandpa Sharpe asks. “That doesn’t seem like good business to me.”

Reed turns to Mark. “Dad,” he says quietly. “This is not just a few thousand dollars. It’s so much more than that.”

“No, it literally is,” Trey argues.

“Dad,” Reed repeats softly.

Mark closes his eyes and sighs. “Fix the contract or I won’t sign.”

As I slide the contract toward the Madigans’ lawyer, I ought to feel ecstatic, or at least grateful. Instead, I just feel like they’ve upgraded my coffin at the morgue.

Okay, that’s dark. But this feels like a hollow victory, nonetheless.

The two lawyers huddle up, pens in hand, agreeing on changes while Melody passes the plate of cookies around.

I take a bite of one, but it turns to dust in my mouth. Reed stands and picks up his chair, then navigates around people and furniture, before squeezing in beside me. He leans in and gives me a sweet, slow kiss on the cheekbone. “I miss you.”

My heart lifts. “I miss you, too. I thought you were mad at me. I tried to call you back last night, and you didn’t answer.”

“Too busy,” he says, taking my hand in his. “I was trying to get a flight, and I had to apologize to Sheila for losing my shit.”

“Ah,” I say, falling into his warm gaze. “We’ve all been there.”

“Not really,” he says. “You were right that I was angry about a lot of things but trying not to be. Sheila called me emotionally stunted in front of the whole office.”

“Ouch. You two really did have words.”

He smiles brightly. “They’ll be talking about us for weeks. Just happy to do my part for office gossip.”

“Is it as bad as mountain gossip?” I ask.

He takes my hand and strokes his thumb across my palm, making it hard to think. “No, there’s nothing quite like mountain gossip. But it’s close.”

I would have happily gazed at Reed all day, but I hear some kind of commotion outside the door to the Evergreen Room. Voices are raised. That’s just the sort of thing a resort manager listens for. The job is a bit like working as a firefighter—you never know when you’ll be called to slide down the pole and tackle another emergency.

“Excuse me a moment?” I push back my chair to investigate.

Before I make much progress, the front desk manager’s face pops into view. “Ava! We’ve got a situation. I told them you are all in a meeting, but—”

“Step aside, please.” A man with salt-and-pepper hair slides past her into the room. “Mark Madigan, we need a moment of your time.”

“And you are…?” Reed asks.

Mark and I already know. Morgan James is the town manager of Penny Ridge, Colorado. And crowding into the doorway behind him are two members of the town council, including Ms. Maeve Perkins, the head librarian at Penny Ridge Memorial Library. She’s four-foot-nine, ninety-two years young, and full of attitude.

“Mark Madigan!” she exclaims. “Do you have any idea what these Sharpe shooters have planned for our town?”

“Um…” he says with perfectly understandable hesitation. You do not want to be on the wrong side of Maeve Perkins.

“Oh wow,” Reed breathes. “I hope I didn’t leave town with any unreturned books.”

Her chin snaps in our direction. “You have an outstanding fine, young man. But we’ll get to you in a moment. I need to speak to your father, right now.”

“The Sharpes did not, in fact, share their plans with me,” Mark says sheepishly. “Maybe you can ask them yourselves?”

Fire burns in her feisty eyes as she wheels on Grandpa Sharpe. “Are you in charge here, young man? Do you have any idea how quickly and loudly we will object to the transfer of the ski terrain lease if your aim is to add more hotel rooms to this town than we have permanent residents?”

Grandpa Sharpe doesn’t even look scared, which means he’s a bigger fool than I thought. “Ma’am, think of all those jobs we’re creating in the fine town of Penny Ridge.”