Page 5 of Dreams and Desires

Five minutes later, Patterson Towers rises out of the fog. Tallest thing in the skyline. Feels more like a statement than a building.

The streets are still half asleep. I pull up front. The valet sees me, gives a nod, and opens the lane. No need for words. They know the routine.

Inside, the lobby’s all glass and marble. Quiet. Clean. One of the security guys spots me, says my name like it carries weight. I nod, keep walking. People always put too much stock in a nod from someone at the top.

Upstairs, the glow from the monitors bounces off glass walls. Everything’s on, but no one’s talking. You can feel that early-morning pressure building.

My office is in the northeast corner. Big windows. Huge desk. Shelves lined with models from old projects. Cody’s sitting right there too, looking like it belongs.

A leather folder waits on the center of the desk. Color tabs sticking out like flags. I flip it open.

Cody Resort. First one on the list.

I skim the latest report. The resort should have broken ground two months ago, but local conservationists filed injunctions, citing river habitat disruption. Budget slide shows red where there should be black. My assistant, Yuri, recites schedule items while I page through. “Ten a.m. board review,” he ends. “Conference room ten-oh-seven.”

I tap the folder edge. “Make sure catering remembers Dad’s sugar-free demands. Last time he decapitated a muffin.”

The assistant gives a small nod, almost smiling. “Already confirmed.”

At 9:50 exactly, I step into the boardroom.

The place is already buzzing. Glass walls on all sides, skyline sharp behind them, and the kind of artificial silence that only exists when everyone’s pretending not to feel rushed. A few seats are filled. Most still empty.

My project lead’s up front, setting up the deck. He fumbles with the remote, muttering something to himself. The eighty-inch screen flickers, then holds steady.

Behind me, the rest start filtering in. Legal. Finance. PR. No small talk. Just clacking keys and rustling papers. They settle into their spots like they’re suiting up for war. Laptops open. Phones on mute. Eyes already darting toward the head of the table.

No one says it, but everyone’s waiting for one person.

And right on cue he walks in–my dad. Exactly thirty seconds before the meeting starts. His silver hair is cut sharp, part perfect. Black suit, pressed to death. Everything about him is intentional. The second he looks around the table, everyone shifts just slightly. Straighter backs. Quieter fidgeting. He does not have to say anything. His presence says it for him.

The project lead starts us off. “Zoning approvals are in. We got the council vote—four to two. Still waiting on the environmental review, but we’re ahead of schedule.”

My dad turns to me. “You paid Ellis two million for that?”

“Yeah,” I say, steady. “Fast-tracking saved us six.”

Next slide clicks up—photos of protest signs, press headlines, people rallying against the project.Save Cody Riverside Parkpainted in red. Articles about fish and protected wildlife and trout season.

“Locals are calling it an attack on the ecosystem,” the PR lead says.

My dad doesn’t flinch. “So how do we kill that?”

I look around the table. “We don’t. We offer something louder. We promise jobs—ninety full-time, two hundred seasonal. We put money toward a scholarship fund for Cody High. And we commit to a five-year creek restoration plan, led by outside biologists.”

Legal frowns. “That’s a huge cost.”

“We lose profit the first year,” I admit. “But it cuts down lawsuits. A long fight in court bleeds more than a few early investments.”

My dad leans back in his chair, watching me. “You going out there?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Face-to-face still means something.”

“Take someone from legal with you. Keep records. If this turns, we need proof.”

“Got it.”

The meeting ends ninety minutes later. People talk over each other—notes, plans, warnings. All of it noise now. My dad stays behind, standing near the windows. The city stretches behind him, lit up and distant.

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