My father tsked when I stepped into his large corner office filled with walnut furniture and sweeping views of the slopes.
It was probably one of the nicest views at the resort.
I was surprised he hadn’t made this some swanky room and charged triple for it. People would have paid, and his bottom line would have bled black.
However, as astute of a business man my father was, he could appreciate a damn good view.
Besides, say what you would about Renshaw Mattison; he was a hard worker. And if anyone deserved this prime spot at BearPaw, it was him.
“You couldn’t have changed for the meeting?” he asked, glowering over his glasses.
“I’m pretty sure this conversation would still be the same if I was dressed in a three-piece suit.”
“Appearances mean a lot in the business world.”
I availed myself upon the seat in front of his desk, leaned back, and propped one foot up over my knee. “I’m not you, Dad.”
“Of that I am acutely aware.”
I grunted. “Well, it’s not too late to change your mind.”
He chuckled. “I still believe you are the right man for the job, no matter your dress habits.”
“That’s good, because if I do end up taking over this place someday, I’m still dressing like this.”
“Headstrong. Just like your mother.”
It wasn’t an insult. In fact, I took it the opposite. My father loved my mother more than anything, so for him to say I was like her spoke volumes.
He cleared his throat. “So have you thought about our last conversation?”
“That you want me to take over BearPaw Resort?” I sat up. “I’ve thought about it.”
“And?”
I sighed. “I’m still thinking.”
He frowned.
“I’m not the business type, Dad.” I gestured to my clothes as proof. “I’m an athlete. I spend most of my time outside. Up until last year, I didn’t spend too much time in one place.”
“Things are different now.”
How could I forget? I glanced down at my knee, then shifted.
“There are plenty of high-level execs here that would kill for this job.” I pointed out.
“Yes. Well, they aren’t my son.”
“Nepotism at its finest,” I drawled.
My father gave me a distasteful look and stood. With his hands clasped behind his back, he stared out over the slopes. The lights had come on a few minutes ago. Soon, it would be completely dark. I loved to night board. Night ski. Cruise around on the snowmobile after hours.
“This started as a family business, and that’s the way I would like it to remain. I realize you had other plans for your life, but now you’re back. You were raised here. I know you know this place like the back of your hand. I could teach you anything else you needed to know.”
“I could do the job,” I said, confident.
He glanced around. “Is that a yes?”
I smiled, swift. “No. It means I don’t doubt my skills at running this place.”
“If you still want to teach,” he began, “I’m sure it could be worked out.”
I laughed. The idea had some merit to it. Imagine the head honcho of this place out there on the mountain, giving ski lessons. People would never expect that.
I liked doing the unexpected.
Some people might even argue that’s what I was known for.
“I was hoping to start training you in the spring.” My father spoke, glancing back outside.
My eyebrows rose. That was sooner than I realized. “You ready to retire, Dad?” I asked, a hint of teasing in my voice.
He didn’t laugh. Instead, he answered, “I just want to make sure you’re ready when the time comes.”
My brow wrinkled. “Time comes for what?”
He turned from the window and smiled. “For when your mother decides she doesn’t want to be a snowbird and books us a winter cruise.”
I barked a laugh. So Mom was talking about retiring.
My father watched me, waiting.
I sighed. “It’s only February,” I replied.
“So?”
“So spring is a few months away. I still have time to think.”
Sitting down behind his desk, he nodded. “Yes. You have some time.”
“Meeting adjourned?” I pushed to my feet.
“I’ll see you at Sunday dinner.”
“I’ll be there with bells on.” I went to the door, already thinking of a hot shower.
“I know this isn’t what you expected,” he said abruptly.
My chest tightened, and I turned. “No. It’s not.”
“And I’m sorry about that, son.” He came around the desk, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “But I’m not sorry you’re home.”
I nodded.
“Maybe it’s just fate’s way of letting you know BearPaw is where you belong.”
“I’ll think about it, Dad,” I told him, gripping his shoulder. My throat was tight as I let myself out of the office.
It wasn’t that I was sorry I was back here with my family and where I grew up and my best friend lived.
It was just hard to let go of the past. Of things that could have been.