Although small towns were not foreign to Thandie, a breathtaking panoramic view was. Home was where white dirt roads cut through the landscape like arrows straight to the heartland, and sturdy corn stalks, topped with golden plumage, stood in tight rows like soldiers on watch. Here, the roads snaked around endless hills, and through narrow valleys. Handcrafted bridges made long before her hometown in Iowa was ever thought of, spanned streams and creeks as old as time itself. She wondered if she would ever tire of the gorgeous view from The Foundry’s barn.
Following slightly behind America, Thandie walked down the gravel drive from the barn with her luggage in tow and a twenty-pound binder in the crook of her arm. The drive tapered into a single lane pathway that looked to have been recently resurfaced with white and gray crushed stone. Along the edge of the path, bright green grass had recently been cut back and smelled of that moist, citrusy warmth of warmer days.
Beside the path, a split rail fence ran down the gentle slope and separated the road from a dry streambed. Up ahead, and about 300 yards from the barn, a cabin’s white metal roofline came into view from behind a grouping of trees and shined in the afternoon sun.
Beyond the cabin, a large flat plain stretched out as far as she could see. Tufts of colorful wildflowers and tall grasses saturated the expanse, and, at the bottom of the hill, the path ended at what looked like an old dock or a broken bridge.
“Pretty spectacular, isn’t it?” America stopped and asked as she herself took in the view.
“It’s pretty breathtaking. The guests will fall in love,” Thandie said as she breathed in the aromatic air. “Is it always like this?”
“I’m not sure,” America said. “We had a really wet and warm winter. And you know what they say?”
Thandie looked at her blankly. “No rain, no flowers?”
America giggled. “Spring is a lovely reminder of how beautiful change can be.”
Thandie considered America’s words. “Yeah,” she said as she counted the colorful species.
“I hope this never gets old. This is my first spring here and I’m loving it so far.”
Thandie nodded and smiled. “I can see why. All we get in Iowa this time of year is dirt plumes from all the plowing.” She pointed to the bottom of the hill. “What is that down there?”
“Oh, that. This used to be a lake. I thought you knew.”
Thandie shook her head, and they resumed walking down the path.
“There was a dam downstream for nearly a hundred years, but it gave way during a big storm a few years back. You know how it goes. Town builds a dam. People fall in love with the town. The dam breaks. People break up with the town when the lake dries up . . . You know?”
“Drying up, just like my love life,” Thandie said under her breath.
America did a double take, having obviously heard the remark, and stifled a giggle. “Sounds like you have a story of your own there.”
“Maybe so, but the one about the dam sounds way more interesting. Is that why you and Mr. Thorpe are starting this retreat? To bring people back to the town?”
“For the last time, you can call him Leo,” America said. “Anyway, The Foundry was his idea at first, before I even knew him, but with my connections at the travel magazine, we were able to advertise this as a destination locale and get the retreat off the ground.”
“What magazine do you write for?” Thandie asked and wondered whether she had read any of America’s articles before.
“Jet Trek. Have you heard of it?”
“Yeah. It’s an online publication, right? I think I see little clips now and again on the gram.”
“That’s great, I’ll have to let the social team know their posts are cutting through the din.” America clapped. “So, with some gentle coaxing from me and Leo’s friend, Pa, we went all in and used the rest of his inheritance to buy the properties and outfit the place.” Beneath her perky and controlled exterior, Thandie sensed a sort of desperation.
“Who’s Pa?”
“You’ll meet him at some point. He’s always lurking around.”
“Should I be worried?” Thandie asked nervously.
“Not at all. He’s great, and he’s been in this town forever. If I can’t get you what you need, he can.”
“Good to know,” Thandie said as they came to the front of the cabin facing the old lake.
White painted steps led up to a wide wraparound porch. Two rocking chairs and a wrought iron side table sat in front of a set of three tall and narrow windows. A barrel planter made from an old wine cask greeted her on the other side of the porch. America held the door and let Thandie go in first. “This is all for me?”
Walking into the space, Thandie breathed in the thick scent of cedar, which is where the cabin’s rustic feel ended. America headed straight for the contemporary style kitchen with white cabinets, complete with stone counters and high-end appliances.
“Your fridge is stocked with some essentials, and if you need anything else, just get it from the cucina,” America said and pointed across the room. “That’s the living area. The fireplace works, just flip the switch on the wall. That’s the bedroom and bathroom through that door there.”
“This is amazing.” Thandie took in the sight of the beautiful wood logs, stacked and cemented together, and smelling of earth and warmth. Lightweight white curtains hung at the windows where daylight illuminated the entire vaulted great room, and the modern kitchen looked to be everything and more that she would need to feel at home there. “This cabin is so nice. Shouldn’t it be for the guests?”
“Of course not, this cabin is closest to the barn, which is easier for you to get to. And all the guest cabins are down by the old shore. We were able to purchase the old lake houses for a bargain.”
“I can bet.” Thandie said and realized her comment overstepped her position. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”
“It’s fine,” America assured her. “You’ll discover quickly that we don’t let things ruffle our feathers much. Plus, you’re right. With the town basically deserted, no one wanted the structures. We may be the only people foolish enough to take on such a project.” America paused and took a deep breath. “We really need this week to go off without a hitch.”
Thandie’s suspicions were confirmed in the tone of America’s voice. Although the woman sounded relaxed, there was an undercurrent of anticipation and hope in the way she wanted everything to be perfect. A desperation that smacked of worry.
“I’m here to do my best,” Thandie reassured. “I won’t let you down.”
She took a look around the beautiful, welcoming space and thought about all the random places she had stayed and the other jobs she had taken over the last few months. Gratitude filled her heart to be somewhere so inviting and lovely.
“I should let you get started planning the week. There’s a phone beside the bed and you can ring the office if you need anything,” America said and let herself out the front door.
Even though Thandie had been sitting in the car all morning, she flopped right into the worn leather sofa and kicked her feet up on the coffee table. She wasn’t tired, but she let her eyelids shut for a moment while she let her mind do the work of planning the week.
She didn’t know much about wellness retreats, though the irony wasn’t lost on her that practically all of her friends had suggested she go to one following the wedding incident. Perhaps she should have taken their advice, seeing as how she was now charged with putting one on herself. The wellness of a dozen guests was in her inexperienced hands. Though there was no reason to think she would outright fail, there was a learning curve to every job, and she had but a few hours to get a plan together before the guests were scheduled to arrive.
She had been the co-chair of her sorority’s planning committee, which meant that she could organize just about anything with enough time. But time was something she did not have. And it seemed that her future at The Foundry depended on having a successful week with her playing the part of the best director that she could be.
Leaning over, she reached for the binder. The freshly printed pages, crisp and white, held the key to her planning. She flipped through the preference sheets and looked for any relative threads that connected one person to another.
All but two of the guests were physically able to go on mild hikes. No one was opposed to swimming, which was of no consequence, since there was no water around that she was aware of. The guests’ ages ranged from their mid-thirties to some older folks in their sixties. The older ones might want to turn in early or participate in different activities, so she decided to plan a variety of events throughout each day.
Her first thought was to offer the guests a list of options during their check-in and, depending on the weather, choose the activity that best suited them. As long as she announced the next day’s schedule at dinnertime, the guests would have enough time to prepare, and she would gain the bit of flexibility that she would need to get the week going.
But her plan didn’t account for the first day. She needed one activity ready to go. Something not too hard, and one that people would be ready to do right away after check-in.
Thandie took her phone from her back pocket and opened the browser. A little circle chased its tail for a moment until a pop-up informed her there was no data connection. She closed and reopened the app, reset her wifi, and checked her signal strength, but there was nothing.
“Shoot,” she said and tossed her phone aside. She had planned on doing a bit of research, looking up points of interest on the map, and getting some idea of the property’s layout. Now, she would have to do it the old-fashioned way and go see things with her own eyes.
Heading outside, she recalled seeing a sky-blue painted bicycle leaning against the side of the front porch railing. It didn’t take long for her to get back to the barn, which was slightly uphill from her accommodations, and park the bike in the rack underneath a covered stall. She wondered if all the cabins had likewise been outfitted with bikes, something she would ask Leo or America about when she found them.
The barn—Thandie decided it needed a better name—was quiet inside. The lights were low, as if on a motion sensor, but as she walked further into the space, the lights did not illuminate beyond their initial appearance. Perhaps the fixtures were tied to the outside light or set on a timer depending on the time of day to account for the natural light flooding the spectacular wall of glass. The light coming through the windows bounced off the crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the vaulted ceiling and sprinkled glittering rainbows about the cozy velvet couches and lounge chairs below.
“Hello?” she called out, breaking the calm ambiance. “Mr. Thorpe? Leo?”
No one answered, but she heard what sounded like a murmur of voices coming from the cucina.
Not wanting to frighten anyone, she knocked on the door to the prep area. The voices were unchanged, so she pushed the door open slowly just a crack and peeked in. The chef, wearing a tall white hat and matching white coat, hunched over the stainless-steel countertop, chopping away, and prepping vegetables. The man was mostly hidden behind long strands of fresh pasta hanging from coat hangers above the prep area.
Something simmered and steamed on the stove, and the chef flipped the sauteing meat into the air before catching it all again without spilling a morsel. That’s when Thandie saw the headphones in his ears. He was speak-singing the lyrics to whatever song was playing, though she couldn’t make out what the tune or even the language of the song was.
She’d meet the chef later. No need to interrupt what was clearly a great workflow, and besides, she needed to find out about the internet signal or wifi. She needed to find the people in charge.
It only took her a moment to check the dining area and the meeting space. The fitness area was deserted too. As she passed the stairs, she figured she would check in the office. If nothing else, she could take a closer look at whatever items were at her disposal for use the next day, and she might even get a few ideas depending on what she found.
As she approached the top stairs, America and Leo’s voices became clear. They were whispering intently about something, and Thandie thought it was best to come back later. That was until she heard them say her name, which held her feet in place.
Her interest was piqued. She sat down a couple steps from the top where she was hidden from their view by a pony wall and listened. Eavesdropped.
“Don’t you think we should tell her?” America said. “She’s so sweet, and Jenny told us we could trust her.”
“I don’t want her to get all weird about it,” Leo said. “You know how important this week is. I’ve spent the last of my inheritance on this venture. And I need the investor to buy in.”
“But I think she can help—”
“I think she should just focus on her job. And we should focus on ours. You have an article to get to. I have all this, and it’s a lot,” Leo said. “Which is exactly why I need the investment. I can barely afford to pay her as it is. And if this doesn’t go well . . .”
Great, just fantastic. Another job, another place to move on from. It sounded like even if she did a wonderful job with the retreat, her fate was really in the hands of some investor.
Thandie stood up to leave, and the stairs creaked so loud, she was certain the chef down in the cucina probably heard it too. “Shoot,” she whisper-yelled and tiptoed down the steps, hoping no one noticed.
“Thandie,” America’s voice sounded from the top step behind her back.
She froze like a statue, squinting her eyes as though maybe she was temporarily transparent.
“Did you need something?” America said.
Apparently, Thandie was entirely visible. And caught.