Page 58 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

"Is that so?" Miranda's eyebrows lift slightly.

"Absolutely. Wait until you see what she's created in our Mountainview Room and atrium." His praise sounds genuine, not performative. "Frankly, it's better than the original plan."

Before Miranda can respond, a commotion in the driveway announces the arrival of the bride and her parents. Charlene Morton emerges from a white Range Rover; her designer sunglasses pushed into expertly highlighted hair as she surveys her wedding destination.

"Show time." I murmur, moving forward to greet them.

The next few hours blur into a choreographed dance of introductions, tours, and reassurances. I guide the Mortons through the revised venues, emphasizing the intimate spaces' exclusive atmosphere, the glass-domed atrium's magical quality, and the stunning mountain views that frame every aspect of their event. Lucas follows, smoothly adding historical context and answering logistical questions that arise.

To my relief, Charlene's initial skepticism transforms into enthusiasm as she envisions her ceremony beneath the star-filled dome.

"It's like something from a fairy tale." She spins slowly in the circular space adorned with trailing greenery and twinkling lights.

Her mother appears less convinced, examining every detail carefully. "These flowers aren't exactly what we discussed, Amelia."

"The original varieties couldn't be sourced due to the storm." I maintain my professional smile. "Our floral designer selected these premium alternatives specifically to enhance the intimate atmosphere of the new space."

"I'm not sure?—"

"Mom, I love them." Charlene interrupts, running fingers over delicate petals. "They're better than what we planned. More romantic."

I catch Lucas's eye across the room, his slight nod acknowledging our narrow escape. One crisis averted, dozens more to navigate before the wedding tomorrow.

"The atrium is acceptable." Miranda materializes at my elbow as the Mortons move to inspect the reception space, voice low. "Though I question your decision to change the ceremony structure completely."

"The glass dome offers a unique experience impossible in the original space." I keep my tone confident despite the knot forming in my stomach. "The client is delighted."

"For now." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "But if anything—anything at all—goes wrong tomorrow, that delight will evaporate."

Lucas approaches before I can respond, expertly drawing Miranda into a conversation about the resort's features. I use the moment to escape, retreating to the kitchen to check on the final menu preparations.

The catering team works efficiently under Chef Morgan's direction. The infamous chocolate soufflé sits in test form on aside counter, looking impossibly perfect after our many failed attempts. I'm examining it when a deep voice behind me makes me jump.

"That's a serious expression for a dessert."

I turn to find a tall man in an expensive suit, his easy smile suggesting confidence born of privilege.

"Just ensuring everything meets expectations."

"Ah, you must be the famous Amelia." He extends a hand. "Brock Sterling, best man and childhood friend of our lovely bride."

"Pleasure to meet you." I shake his hand, noting his appraising gaze.

"I've heard you've been working miracles up here." His casual tone carries an undercurrent of curiosity. "Quite impressive under the circumstances."

"It's been a team effort." I glance at my watch, anxious to continue my rounds. "If you'll excuse me, I need to?—"

"Is that Brock Sterling I hear terrorizing my staff?" Lucas enters the kitchen, crossing to clap the man on the shoulder casually.

"Lucas Reid. I thought the name of this place sounded familiar. You sly bastard—you actually did it." Recognition lights Brock's face.

"Did what?" Lucas accepts the other man's enthusiastic handshake, smile guarded.

"Escaped the corporate meat grinder for mountain living." Brock laughs. "Last I saw you; you were dismantling the Harrington hotel chain piece by piece, making enemies and millions in equal measure."

Something uncomfortable twists in my stomach at this reminder of Lucas's corporate past—a side of him I've glimpsed but not fully confronted.

"That was another lifetime ago." Lucas's expression remains pleasant, though I notice tension in his shoulders.

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