Her involvement was one of the things that made our properties special—she always said if her name was going on the place, she would ensure that every detail was perfect and that branding was on point as well. It was a philosophy I bought into, and one I would strive to continue for years to come if Angelica made me the president.

It was Friday afternoon, and Sebastian and I had just finished an extra-long working lunch, where we’d selected our first choice for the Security and Housekeeping managers. The next two weeks would continue to be an intensive hiring period, where each manager would fill the remaining spots in their department. Construction was wrapping up, down to landscaping and interior fine-tuning, and we’d had our training department from corporate here for the past few weeks. It was starting to feel like a working boutique hotel, and from what I’d seen, the people we’d hired so far were thrilled to be a part of it.

I’d never had doubts about my career choice, and now I felt totally in my element. This was what I’d been made to do. I loved the job and the company, and when I lay down to go to sleep at night, sometimes I was so exhilarated from the day’s work and accomplishments that I couldn’t sleep.

I was walking back from the restaurant, where Sebastian and I had met—and been treated to a fantastic meal prepared by Nola Simms, the head chef—checking my calendar to make sure I wasn’t forgetting any meetings this afternoon. I had a lot to do and half a chance of getting it all done if I didn’t get interrupted. I entered the executive offices and went down the hall to my short-term smaller office just before the GM’s. When I walked in, I gasped and stopped short.

Angelica was sitting in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing outside. Sitting on the seat of a walker, I realized as I went closer and walked behind my desk. I swallowed down on my shock.

“Angelica,” I said, hoping my voice sounded warm and not semi-horrified at her appearance.

Make no mistake—it was semi-horrifying. Had it really only been a few weeks since I’d last seen her, at the company dinner?

“The docks and the boathouse are exactly as I always pictured them,” she said.

Even her voice sounded different than before. Not as strong. A little lower. Like she was depleted of energy.

“I can’t decide which is my favorite,” I said, striving for casual and unbothered, “those or the sprawling porch.”