Her Best Man

“I was thinking we could grab a bite at the Grubstake,” he said, referring to the grill in the main lodge.

“Sounds good to me.” Allaire stood, then went to clean up and grab a jacket before recalling that the main lodge was connected to one of two Rib Shack entrances via a hallway. But since she wasn’t dressed to the nines—not even to the ones, really—she slipped her jacket over her paint-dotted shirt anyway, merely to cover up.

She and D.J. took off then, passing a corridor filled with high-end shops featuring winter wear in the windows. A few slender, coiffed women milled inside, choosing their finery with care. Open storefronts languished in between the franchises, spaces that the resort would be renting out in the future.

Allaire was fascinated. “I hadn’t actually toured this place until you came along, and I never realized it’d be so much like falling down the rabbit hole.”

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