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I shouldn’t be surprised. There won’t be a person in Star Falls who doesn’t know that Mack Miller’s kid is building something on the side of the mountain. I just hadn’t expected that my face would be so easy to put to my name. The way this town gossips is another reason I’ve avoided coming back. People are just so in each other’s business. After my dad died, my mother cried for weeks, not because Dad was dead, but because she knew everyone would be talking about it, saying how she was better off as a widow.

“Well, well, well,” a woman’s voice says from behind me. “Look who just rode into town. Finally.”

Part of me wants to ignore it. Whoever it is doesn’t have malice in their tone, but by responding, I’ll be opening a can of worms—and I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.

“Hey, you got a hug for an old friend?” the voice asks.

There’s no getting out of this. I turn on my stool and come face-to-face with Eva Maples. I haven’t seen her since the day I graduated high school.

“I haven’t seen you since the day we graduated high school,” she says. “Heard you were back in the area.” She pauses and gives me a look full of meaning—what meaning, I’m not sure. “You never made it into town until now.” She shakes her head disapprovingly, but holds out her arms. I bend and pull her into an awkward hug.

She laughs as she pulls away. “Never were a hugger, were you, Byron? Too much of the tortured poet in you.” She fiddles with the back of her apron. “You just drinking or you wanna order some food?” She leans in and whispers, “Don’t say I told you, but steer clear of the chicken meatballs.” She clears her throat and resumes her normal voice. I glance around to see who’s listening. Everyone, it seems, though at least they’re pretending not to. “The wings are the best.”

“Sounds good,” I say. “Do you have a side of broccoli?”

She laughs, pats me on the shoulder and walks off, like I just told her the funniest joke she’s heard this year. Except I wasn’t joking.

I’m still trying to figure out whether or not I’m going to get that side of broccoli when a heavy hand drops on my shoulder.

“So, Byron Miller. What you doing at Grizzly’s? I hear you have a fancy bar up on that mountain.” Jim Johnson—just the man I was looking for. Things might have changed over the last fifteen years, but apparently you can still always see Jim at Grizzly’s at eight on a weeknight. When I was growing up, Sundays were the only days Jim stayed away from the local watering hole.

I hold out my hand. “Jim Johnson,” I say. “Good to see you again.”

He shakes my hand, nodding. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

There’s nothing I can say to that. I should have come before now. The town has taken my absence as a sign of disrespect.

“Can I buy you a beer?” I ask.

“That you can, son.” I try to suppress the shiver that runs down my spine when he uses the termson. He slides into the seat next to mine and I order his drink. “Wanna tell me a little bit about what you’re doing up on that mountain?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. This is why I’m here, after all. I might have a permanent PR associate in place at the Colorado Club, but she’s focused on getting the Club coverage in high-end international publications, courting celebrities, getting the zero point one percenters talking.

Ishould have been managing the residents of Star Falls from the beginning. Instead I’ve buried my head in the sand, hoping I could build a resort on the edge of town and maybe no one in Star Falls would notice.

“You’ve probably gathered it’s a retreat. A place where people from all over can come and appreciate the great state of Colorado.”

He narrows his eyes and takes a slug of the beer that’s been put in front of him. “Is that right? And you going to encourage these visitors down to our town?”

This strikes me as a trick question. On the one hand, he might see the benefits of having people with a pocketful of cash spending it in Star Falls. On the other hand, he might not want a bunch of strangers interrupting their peaceful way of life.

“That’s something I’ve been thinking about,” I say. “I’d like your thoughts on whether that’s something you’d like to see.”

He lets out a small chuckle.

“I’m creating a lot of jobs,” I say. “Opportunities. If people want them.”

“I hear you’re shipping people in from out of town.”

“There will be plenty of staff housing so people don’t have to be local, but I’m advertising in theStar FallsGazette. Got it online too. And there’s flyers being handed out at Marty’s Market and the post office. We’re just not seeing the interest from the town.”

A silence settles between us. Jim isn’t a bad guy. He’s not about to run me out of town for daring to change small-town life in Star Falls. At the same time, he’s protective of this place and its residents. Perhaps more so than his wife.

“How’s Mrs. Johnson?”

“You can call her Sue. She’s good. We can see the lights of your place from our back porch.”

I scan his face, looking for signs of anger or frustration, but I don’t see any. I relax my shoulders. I’ve spent the last three years of my life getting the relevant permissions and permits from local and state officials, and there were never any complaints from anyone from Star Falls.