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  Jim shook his head, and then looked at Wyatt. “I’m gonna have to start arm-wrestling the Chief of Police. Might have a chance with you.”

  Wyatt winked. “I don’t know about that, Jim. Like father, like son, you know.”

  Steve jumped in and changed the subject. “Willy, as Jim said before he felt compelled to prove his manhood, we’ve been hearing rumors about your sculpture. That it might get put on display after all?”

  Willy put his finger up to his lips. “Keep that quiet, boys. Try to squelch that rumor. Might jinx it. But, yeah, might hear something more firm today.”

  Jim finished rubbing his sore arm, and stretched his arms out behind him. “Heard that we might get a new luxury hotel here, too, and that it’s tied in to your draft-dodger sculpture.”

  Wyatt laughed. “God, these small towns never cease to amaze me. When I lived back in Toronto, things like this would stay secret. But, here, Christ, everything gets out.”

  Steve stole a sip out of Wyatt’s cup. “Well, remember, Wyatt, this kind of news wouldn’t even get noticed in a city like Toronto. But, for a small city like ours, this is front page stuff.”

  “Yeah, true, but it’s more likely that everyone who lives here is just like a gossipy old lady.”

  Jim crossed his legs and directed his gaze at Willy. “I heard you were in the hospital for a few days. Are you okay now?”

  “Yeah, not a big deal. Just complications from falling off the steps of my porch. Hurt my hip.”

  “How did that keep you in the hospital for days?”

  “Just some complications, but I’m okay now. They just wanted to be safe, considering my age.”

  “Yeah, right! Those doctors have obviously never arm-wrestled you!”

  They all laughed.

  Steve pointed at Willy. “I think you’ve just been working too hard, not getting enough sleep. That’s why you fell down the stairs.”

  “No, really, I get lots of sleep. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I was walking my German shepherd in the wee hours of the morning—must have been three or four days ago—and walked past your house. I could see the lights on in your garage studio, and heard your trusty old saw humming away. That was around 4:00 in the morning. Do you do that a lot?”

  Wyatt answered for his dad. “Steve, my dad has been doing that for years. Sometimes, he’ll work all the way through, from morning until the next dawn.”

  Jim scraped his chair back along the tile floor, and stood up. “C’mon, Stevie, we have to get changed into our golfing duds—only an hour till tee-off.”

  Steve glanced at his watch. “You’re right. Okay, gotta run, boys. See you soon—and Willy, good luck with the statue. We’re all so excited for you, bud. And, for us, too—you’ve done us a great honor with that sculpture.”

  Willy smiled. “The honor was mine, guys.”

  Jim leaned down and warmly rubbed Willy’s back. “I may tease you, but you know I’m just kidding about the ‘old man’ thing. Take care of yourself—for us, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “You’d better—because I love you like a grandfather!”

  Jim ducked out of the way as Willy swung his big hand in his direction. Willy laughed and cracked, “Get outta here, you miserable draft-dodging hippies!”

  After they’d left, Wyatt’s cell phone rang. He answered it on the first ring. He didn’t say much, just listened and muttered, “Okay.”

  He clicked off and said, “Let’s go, Dad. We’re gonna meet them at Murray’s store. They’re afraid they’ll attract too much attention if they come in here.”

  * * * * *

  Murray Hinton was Nelson’s mayor, but most of the time he was just known as the owner and proprietor of Murray’s Hardware. Just down the street from the café, it only took Wyatt and Willy five minutes to get there.

  They went inside and were greeted by Murray’s wife, Kathy, who was manning the check-out counter. She greeted them with a big smile and pointed to the back of the store.

  Murray had a conference room in the rear, one that he used for informal council meetings when no one was in the mood to meet at City Hall.

  Wyatt opened the door. Murray was standing at the end of the table with a coffee cup in his hand.

  Standing beside the mayor was one of the most stunning women Wyatt had ever seen. Not beautiful in the classic sense; better than that. Real, alive, with an effervescence that surrounded her like a halo.

  Her image hit him in the gut like a ton of bricks. Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach. He silently begged them to stop.

  She wasn’t too tall, and she wasn’t too short.

  Long brown hair, a perfect figure…and the face of an angel.

  She walked up to both of them and held out her hand. Willy shook it first because Wyatt was too slow to react. He was too busy staring at her, with his mouth slightly open.

  “I’m Allison Fisher. You must be the man I’ve been dying to meet. Willy Carson, right?”

  “Yes, pleased to meet you, Allison. And, this is my son, Wyatt, our Chief of Police.”

  She turned to Wyatt and smiled. It was a smile that made Wyatt melt—he actually felt like he’d shrunk a couple of inches. Her eyes were the most mesmerizing orbs; a piercing blue that seemed almost unreal, like they’d been painted by an artist.

  She held out her hand to him, and he took a couple of seconds to react. Then, he did, and the touch of her hand sent what felt like a gentle electric current up his arm.

  She was talking now. “Are you okay, Wyatt?”

  He snapped out of it. It was weird. What was that all about?

  Wyatt licked his lips, trying desperately to get some moisture action going.

  “Yes…yes, I’m fine. Pleased to meet you, Allison. You just looked…familiar to me. It was a bit of a shock. Have we met somewhere before?”

  Her warm smile radiated into his consciousness, and her words left him wanting for more.

  “No, I don’t think so. I surely would have remembered you.”

  Chapter 10

  The four of them strolled leisurely along Baker Street, and then down Hall Street towards the scenic waterfront.

  Murray led the way in a manner that mayors tend to do; wearing an authoritative swagger, pointing here and there, smiling and waving at enthusiastic groups of people. Wyatt was surprised the pompous ass wasn’t wearing the Chain of Office around his neck. The warm temperature today was probably the only thing that had stopped him from donning it.

  Murray and Allison walked in front, with Wyatt and Willy pulling up the rear. Wyatt could tell that Murray was totally taken with the billionaire. No surprise, and Wyatt didn’t resent that the man was trying to hog all her attention. He was, after all, the mayor, and the official host for Allison while she was in town.

  Wyatt really didn’t mind walking behind her either.

  He had a nice view.

  The way she walked was almost musical—he couldn’t help but hum in his head the tune to Roy Orbison’s Pretty Woman.

  They had all chatted together back in Murray’s store for about half an hour before they headed out on their walking tour. Wyatt was glad that it only took him a few minutes to regain his famous composure. The woman had certainly stirred up a reaction in him—something he hadn’t felt in years.

  Well, truth be told, he’d never felt like that before, even with his fiancé. It was an instant attraction.

  Love at first sight? Or lust at first sight? He didn’t know what it was.

  It couldn’t be love, because he didn’t even know her. And, it couldn’t be lust because he hadn’t been looking at her that way, and certainly hadn’t been undressing her in his mind.

  So, it must have been that thing called ‘chemistry,’ something that he had never been sure he even believed in…until now.

  What he did know about chemistry between two people, was that it was never singular—that it was a mutual thing. So, on that basis Wyatt deduced that since he had felt
it, then she must have felt it, too. It was an electricity between them, that both would have had to have felt.

  And, the way she smiled at him, how she had shaken his hand, the way she’d spoken to him, convinced him that she indeed was in the same boat as he was. Throughout the meeting back at Murray’s store, she’d directed a lot of her side of the conversation to him.

  He could tell, though, that she was adept in a boardroom setting—playing the group, asking all the right questions, using the proper inflections in her voice to convey sincerity. She was indeed a pro. But, still, he had the feeling that a lot of what she was saying had been directed at him.

  Or, he was just deluding himself, which was entirely possible.

  No matter, that wasn’t why they were all meeting today. There were more important things at stake—for the sake of the city, and for the sake of his father.

  And, of course, for the sake of Murray Hinton as well—he was coming up for re-election in a year’s time, so landing a major hotel project would be a huge feather in his cap and would pretty much guarantee his victory.

  Murray was already campaigning. A born politician. He stopped at virtually every store along the way, rapping on the windows, gesturing with well-practised waves, making sure that everyone noticed the splendid specimen of a woman by his side.

  And, she was splendid—and also astute enough to dress for the audience.

  She clearly was aware that she was visiting a small city, one that still had the personality of a small town. She’d done her research.

  Allison was wearing a pair of Levi’s jeans, and she wore them better than any of the models Wyatt had seen in the famous brand’s ads. She had a very shapely ass, which seemed to move independently of the sculpted legs. Jeans had never looked better.

  She also wore a simple pink blouse, hanging casually around her hips. No jewellery, except for a cross necklace. No engagement or wedding rings either, Wyatt was happy to see.

  Yes, walking behind Allison Fisher was definitely a nice place to be.

  They turned left onto Lakeside Drive and strolled along until coming to a little park beside the lake. Allison suggested they all sit down at one of the picnic tables.

  The setting was beautiful; the lake a sparkling jewel and the mountains surrounding it looked almost surreal.

  Allison ran her right hand through her long hair, and shook her head in astonishment.

  “I didn’t know vistas like this even existed in the world. Sure, there are lakes and mountains everywhere, but there’s something unreal about this place. Stunning, just stunning.”

  Willy leaned his elbows on the table and shifted his position on the picnic bench so that he was facing Allison.

  “It must be such a contrast to where you live. I’ve been to Chicago many times and, while I love it there—it’s as great a city as any—I couldn’t possibly live there.”

  She nodded. “Oh, how right you are, Willy. But, it’s just a different lifestyle completely, isn’t it? I mean, for some people, the city is the only place they could possibly be. They would go crazy in a town like this. Too quiet, too laid back. And…sadly, for a lot of people, scenery doesn’t mean squat. They couldn’t care less about whether or not they’re looking out at mountains and lakes, or glass skyscrapers.”

  Wyatt took off his jacket. Even though there was a nice breeze down by the lake, he was starting to feel the sun burning through his clothes.

  He then asked her the question he’d been pondering.

  “Allison, this is a controversial place for an American company to build a hotel in. Why are you considering this? Won’t it be bad for your reputation?”

  She laughed. “Oh, poo to that. Diamond Hotels’ reputation is golden. Nothing can touch it. We’re an icon in the hotel world; if any company can get away with a controversial decision, it’s us. This setting here in Nelson just can’t be ignored.”

  “But, the draft-dodger legacy?”

  “Oh, that’s just old crap! It’s all settled down now. It’s part of history and what a colorful history it is. The Vietnam War still stirs up emotions from one extreme to the other, but it is still just history.

  “And, one hell of a history—I mean, it doesn’t get much better than that from a marketing standpoint. Brave young men and women fleeing from being drafted into a war that proved in the end to be a useless waste of life, and a war without even a victory? History has proven the dodgers right.”

  Wyatt persisted. “But, there could be a political backlash. America is still fighting useless wars, with seemingly no end in sight.”

  “Too bad. We have a business to run.”

  “Politicians here in Canada may be sensitive to this—fear of enraging the Americans, who are still our closest friends and allies.”

  Murray jumped in. “Hey, I don’t have a problem with it at all!”

  Wyatt snickered. “Murray, I know you like to think of yourself as a politician, but you’re hardly who I’m referring to. You run a hardware store and, for a few hours a week, you wear the mayor’s garments. Get over yourself.”

  “Well…I do have some…influence.”

  “Who with? The Premier of British Columbia? The Prime Minister of Canada? C’mon, get real.”

  Allison smacked the palm of her hand down on the table.

  “Stop bickering, boys. This political stuff you’ll just have to leave to me. My executives and I do have some experience building and managing hotels all over the world. We deal with politics all the time. And, sometimes, some…incentives…are needed to make things happen.”

  “Bribes?”

  “Let’s not call them that. You are, after all, the police chief. Let’s just say that pots can be sweetened for a country or a community. As the Godfather said, ‘offers that can’t be refused.’”

  “I understand how those things work, Allison. Large corporations do it all the time, and it’s certainly legitimate as long as they’re not greasing palms. Guarantees of job creation, contributions to city services, parks and recreation. All that jazz is legit. But, this idea of yours sounds so political as to perhaps be beyond even those things. You’re throwing the draft-dodger legacy right in America’s face, as well as the face of the country that gave them refuge.”

  Murray frowned at Wyatt. “Jesus, Wyatt, don’t you realize how important this would be to our city? Are you trying to scare her away? I don’t understand you.”

  “I just want us all to be realistic here, Murray. Getting excited over ‘pie in the sky’ is not a good thing.”

  “It’s not ‘pie in the sky.’ And, this doesn’t really have anything to do with you. If it wasn’t for Willy, you wouldn’t even be at this meeting. You’re the police chief. I’m the mayor. Development opportunities are my responsibility to bring to City Council. You don’t get a say.”

  “I do have a say, Murray. The minute you involved my father in this, it became my turf as well.”

  Allison made a gesture with her hands, spreading them outward. “Peace! Truce! Let’s all agree that, yes, it’s controversial, okay? But, that’s not a deal-breaker. Let me work things out in a professional manner from my end. I’ll respect all concerns, and I promise that I won’t make any grand announcements exciting people needlessly until it’s a done deal from all sides. Fair?”

  Wyatt nodded, as did Murray and Willy.

  Allison looked around, taking in the panorama. “I see that there’s a little airstrip over there on the shores of the lake.”

  Murray nodded. “Yes, that’s the Norman Stibbs Airfield. Just charter flights. Small private planes; no jets and no commercial flights.”

  “And, I see alongside that is a marina.”

  “That’s the private marina operated by the Prestige Resort. Would you want a marina with your hotel?”

  “No, that’s not my vision. Too commercial, too tacky. Most of our hotels are in the high-rise luxury market; very high-end, very ‘resortish.’ Our strategic outlook takes us in a different direction for the fut
ure. Those hotels are still important to us, but we want to branch out into a different market. Still the discerning traveler, but we want to go after the traveler who wants something with more character. More quiet and serene. Boutique hotels that embrace scenic spots in upscale markets around the world.

  “In essence, we’re appealing to the baby-boomers, the ones with money to travel and the ones who are sick and tired of the party hotels and casinos. People who just appreciate the finer things that nature offers. Not families with noisy kids who just want to splash around in the pool. We want the quiet, intelligent, classy, and spiritual tourists.

  “Think of the irony here—we’re going to appeal to the baby -boomers who are exactly the age group the draft-dodgers fall into. I think it’s brilliant to have one of our flagship hotels located right here, in baby -boomer country, in draft-dodger country.”

  Wyatt scratched his chin. “I didn’t think of it like that. It is kinda brilliant.”

  Allison laughed and clapped her hands together. “Good, I’m finally winning you over! Overcoming your cynicism.”

  Wyatt smiled. He couldn’t help it—her exuberance was contagious.

  Murray asked, “What do you picture the hotel looking like? What design?”

  Allison shielded her eyes with her hand and scanned the townscape.

  “No more than four storeys high. I believe you have a six-storey limit here in town, so we would be less than that. More expansive than tall. I see perhaps a maximum of 200 rooms. No pools, no saunas, no gyms—none of that trendy stuff that other hotels build in.

  “We don’t want phony, trendy clientele who want to show off how active and current they are. It’s amazing how many people stay at hotels like that and use all those facilities, but never use them in their communities at home. The gym freaks who pretend they work out regularly and want everyone to know that—we don’t want them. We want refined guests who appreciate the real things, the genuine things. The ones who scorn ‘trendy.’ We want people who read books, appreciate music, photography, museums, and a glass of wine or two.”