mind worked. They needed more cabins for guests. Maybe another inn, separate from the hotel. A restaurant at the summit. Something that offered more substantial fare than hot dogs and popcorn. And for serious skiers, they needed to open a run on the backside of the mountain where the slope was sheer and there were enough trees and jumps to make for a dangerous—and exciting—run.
God knew he had more than enough money to invest in Snow Vista. All it would take was his father’s approval, and why the hell wouldn’t he go for it? With work and some inventive publicity, Sam could turn Snow Vista into the premier ski resort in the country.
But to make all of these changes would mean that he’d have to stay. To dig his heels in and reclaim the life that he’d once walked away from. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. Or that he could. He wasn’t the same man who had left here two years ago. He’d changed as much as Lacy had. Maybe more.
Staying here would mean accepting everything he’d once run from. It would mean living with Jack’s ghost. Seeing him on every ski run. Hearing his laugh on the wind.
Sam’s gaze fixed on a lone skier making his way down the mountain. Snow flared up from the sides of his skis and as he bent low to pick up speed, Sam could almost feel the guy’s exhilaration. Sam had grown up on that mountain and just seeing it again was easing all of the rough edges on his soul that he’d been carrying around for two years. It wouldn’t be easy, but he belonged here. A part of him always would.
And just like that, he knew that he would stay. At least as long as it took to make all of the changes he’d once dreamed of making to his family’s resort.
The first step on that journey was laying it out for his father.
* * *
“And you want to oversee all of this yourself?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, leaning back in one of the leather chairs in the family great room. “I do. We can make Snow Vista the place everyone wants to come.”
“You’ve only been back a couple hours.” Bob’s eyes narrowed on his son. “You’re not taking much more time over this decision than you did with the one to leave.”
Sam shifted in his chair. He’d made his choice. He just needed to convince his father that it was the right one.
“You sure you want to do this?”
The decision had come easily. Quickly, even though he’d barely arrived. Maybe he should take some time. Settle in. Determine if this was what he really wanted to do. But even as he considered it, he dismissed it.
Looking at his father, Sam realized that his first concern—the worry that had brought him home—had been eased. His dad was in no danger. His health wasn’t deteriorating. But still, the old man would have to rest up, take it easy, which meant that Sam was needed here. At least for the time being.
And if he didn’t involve himself in the family resort, what the hell would he do with himself while he was here? He scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck. If he got right to work he could have most of the changes made and completed within a few months. By then, his dad should be up and feeling himself again and Sam could... “Yeah, Dad. I’m sure I want to do it. If I get started right away, most of it can be finished within a few months.”
“I remember you and Jack sitting up half the night with drawings and notebooks, planning out what you were going to do to the place.” His father sighed heavily and Sam could feel his pain. But then his father nodded, tapped the fingers of his right hand against his knee. “You’ll supervise it all? Take charge?”
“I will.” Heat swarmed through the room, rushing from the hearth where a fire burned with licks and hisses of flames.
“So this means you’re staying?” His father’s gaze was wise and steady and somehow way too perceptive.
“I’ll stay. Until I’ve got everything done anyway.” That was all he could promise. All he could swear to.
“Could take months.”
“To finish everything? I figure at least six,” Sam agreed.
His father shifted his gaze to stare out the window at the sprawling view of the Salt Lake Valley. “I shouldn’t let you put your money on the line,” he finally said quietly. “You’ve got your own life now.”
“I’m still a Wyatt,” Sam said easily.
Bob slowly turned his head to look at his son. “Glad to hear you remember that.”
Guilt poked at Sam again and he didn’t care for it. Hell, until two years ago, guilt had never been a part of his life, but since then, it had been his constant companion. “I remember.”
“Took you long enough,” his father said softly. “We missed you here.”
“I know, Dad.” He leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees and let his hands hang in front of him. “But I had to go. Had to get away from—”
“Us.”
Sam’s head snapped up and his gaze fixed on his father’s face, wreathed in sorrow. “No, Dad. I wasn’t trying to get away from the family. I was trying to lose myself.”
“Not real smart,” the older man mused, “since you took you with you when you left.”
“Yeah,” Sam muttered, jumping to his feet and pacing. His father’s point made perfect sense when said out loud like that. But two years ago, Sam hadn’t been willing or able to listen to anyone. He hadn’t wanted advice. Or sympathy. He’d only wanted space. Between himself and everything that reminded him he was alive and his twin was dead.
He stalked back and forth across the wide floor until he finally came to a stop in front of the man sitting quietly, watching him. “At the time, it seemed like the only thing to do. After Jack...” He shook his head and bit back words that were useless.
Didn’t matter now why he’d done what he had. Hearing him say that he regretted his choices wouldn’t change the fact that he had walked out on the people who loved him. Needed him. But they, none of them, could understand what it had meant when his twin—the other half of himself—had died.
His dad nodded glumly. “Losing Jack took a huge chunk out of this family. Tore us all to pieces, you more than the rest of us, I’m guessing. But putting all that aside, I need to know, Sam. If you start something here, I need to know you’ll stay to see it through.”
“I give you my word, Dad. I’ll stay till it’s done.”
“That’s good enough for me,” his father said, and pushed out of his chair. Standing, he offered his hand to Sam and when they shook on it, Bob Wyatt smiled and said, “You’ll have to work with our resort manager to get this up and running.”
Sam nodded. Their resort manager had been with the Wyatts for twenty years. “Dave Mendez. I’ll see him tomorrow.”
“Guess you haven’t heard yet. Dave retired last year.”
“What?” Surprised, Sam asked, “Well who replaced him?”
His father gave him a wide grin. “Lacy Sills.”
* * *
First thing the next morning, Lacy was sipping a latte as she opened the door to her office. She nearly choked on the swallow of hot milk and espresso. Gasping for air, she slapped one hand on her chest and glared at the man sitting behind her desk.
“What’re you doing here?”
Sam took his time looking up from the sheaf of papers in front of him. “I’m going over the reports for the hotel, the cabins and the snack bar. Haven’t gotten to the ski runs yet, but I will.”
“Why?” She managed one word, her fingers tightening on the paper cup in her hand.
God, it was a wonder she could think, let alone talk. Her head was fuzzed