“Probably.”
“To whom?”
“Developer from Jackson.”
“Hotel?”
“Private residences.”
Jake frowned.
“Shame.”
“Why?”
“This place has history.”
“That doesn’t pay maintenance.”
“True.”
Sophia studied him.
“You sound like my grandmother.”
“Did she know generators?”
“She believed every old building had feelings.”
“Then no.”
Jake tightened connection.
Sophia smiled.
“My brother wants me to sell.”
“Your mother wants me to sell.”
“My accountant definitely wants me to sell.”
“What do you want?”
She did not answer immediately.
Jake looked up.
Sophia’s face changed.
“I don’t know.”
“That is expensive answer.”
“Extremely.”
He finished.
Generator started.
Sophia smiled.
“Second machine you’ve rescued for me.”
“Your family buys neglected equipment.”
“Romantic.”
Jake packed tools.
She walked him through lodge afterward.
Not as a date.
At least neither called it one.
The dining room still had original stone fireplace.
Guest rooms wrapped around central hall.
Old ski photographs lined walls.
Sophia showed him a small room behind kitchen where grandmother kept ledgers.
“She knew every employee’s birthday.”
Jake smiled.
“You miss her.”
Sophia nodded.
“She raised me more than my parents did in summers.”
“My family traveled constantly.”
“She stayed.”
That word again.
Stayed.
Jake understood.
Sophia touched a faded photograph.
A teenage version of herself stood beside an older woman wearing hiking boots and a sun hat.
“She wanted me to keep this place.”
“Did she say?”
“No.”
“She was careful not to.”
“She said inheritance should not become command.”
Jake liked her grandmother.
“What did she leave in will?”
“The lodge to me.”
“Not company.”
“Not my brother.”
“Not family trust.”
“Me.”
Jake looked around.
“Sounds like she made preference clear.”
Sophia smiled sadly.
“Maybe.”
Then:
“That doesn’t mean staying is right.”
Jake nodded.
“No.”
He did not tell her what to do.
Sophia noticed.
“You never give advice.”
“I fix things I understand.”
“People are not machines.”
“Exactly.”
Their second official date happened two nights later.
Maya refused them the table from first night.
“Superstition.”
Jake asked:
“What superstition?”
“I’m inventing one.”
They went elsewhere.
A small Italian place.
Sophia wore a dark green dress.
Jake wore black sweater again because Avery threatened consequences.
They talked three hours.
Their third date was less polished.
Takeout tacos in Jake’s garage because a customer’s truck repair ran late.
Sophia sat on a rolling stool in heels and held flashlight while Jake replaced a belt tensioner.
“This is definitely not what Grant considered date.”