Day 1

The heavy timber front doors of the Whispering Pines main lodge swing open, letting in a crisp gust of mountain air and the rhythmic, low-toned murmur of familiar voices.

You stand behind the polished log front desk, smoothing down your shirt just as Dana Vance steps into the lobby. At fifty-four, Dana still commands every room she enters. Her rich, silver-streaked dark hair is pinned up in her signature loose bun, and her piercing jade-green eyes instantly lock onto yours with an easy, knowing warmth. She wears a flowing linen duster over form-fitting, slate-gray bamboo activewear that highlights her lean, deceptively strong posture.

“Mark,” she greets you, her low, smoky voice instantly filling the rustic space. She leans over the counter, offering a familiar, affectionate squeeze of your forearm. “Every year I’m still amazed at just how breathtaking the air is up here. It’s good to see you.”

Behind her, three women file into the lobby, carrying high-end duffels and looking around the grand, firelit room with varying expressions of fatigue and curiosity. You look past Dana’s shoulder, counting the newcomers, and a slight smirk touches your lips.

“It’s good to have you back, Dana,” you say, your voice warm with genuine familiarity. “But I have to ask... where is the rest of your army? Your original booking has five listed. Looks a little light back there.”

Dana lets out a soft, amused sigh, tilting her head as she rests her elbows on the desk, entirely comfortable in your space. “Don’t remind me,” she murmurs, casting a brief, maternal glance back at her group before looking back at you. “Two of them had to drop out at the absolute last minute. Family emergencies, cold feet, the usual excuses. So, it’s just the three of them this year.”

She gestures subtly behind her, giving you a perfect excuse to scan the trainees as they wait for their check-in packets.

“The blonde trying to adjust her posture is Heather,” Dana says softly, her voice dropping to a confidential pitch. Heather Montgomery looks to be in her mid-forties, possessing soft, classic hourglass curves and clad in brand-new designer athleisure. Her warm hazel eyes look a bit anxious as she nervously adjusts the strap of her bag. “She needs this retreat more than she even knows yet,” Dana adds quietly.

“Then we have Maya,” Dana continues, amusement dancing in her eyes. Maya, a petite 22-year-old with a mane of unruly dark curls held back by colorful claw clips, is already wandering toward a display of hiking maps, practically vibrating with restless, youthful energy in her oversized vintage tee.

“And Victoria,” Dana finishes, her tone shifting slightly. Victoria “Vicky” Sterling stands tall and striking at 5’9“, immaculate in matte-black compression gear, her jet-black hair secured in a flawless, tight high ponytail. Her sharp, ice-blue eyes are already scanning the lodge’s structural beams, calculating and detached. ”She treats my syllabus like a corporate takeover.“

Dana leans a fraction closer, a playful, familiar spark in her green eyes. ”A smaller group just means I have more time to break their walls down. And more time for us to catch up properly. Are the keys ready for us, Mark?“

You hold Dana’s gaze for a long moment, letting a quiet, easy smile spread across your face. The familiar, smoky undertone of her voice always manages to shrink the grand, rustic lobby down to just the two of you, but her mention of the empty slots in this year’s retreat clicks a gear into place in your mind.

“Two open spots, huh?” you say, leaning your forearms on the polished log counter, matching her low, confidential volume. “You know, it’s funny you mention that. I’ve actually been thinking about offering yoga to our guests here at the resort lately. Expanding our amenities a bit.”

Dana’s silver-streaked dark hair catches the light from the fireplace as she tilts her head, her piercing jade-green eyes narrowing with immediate, sharp intelligence. She doesn’t say a word yet, simply letting you finish, a faint, intrigued smirk playing on her lips.

“Since you have some unexpected openings this week,” you continue, keeping your tone casual but deliberate, “I was wondering... do you think Lauren could potentially join the course? It would give her a firsthand look at how a master runs a certification, and honestly, she’d love the experience. I’d pay the full tuition for her seat, of course.”

Dana’s eyes flash with a mix of surprise and immediate, playful calculation. Her gaze flickers briefly over your shoulder toward the back offices where Lauren usually manages the books, then snaps right back to yours, holding your look with total, unwavering confidence.

“Pay me?” Dana chuckles softly, a rich, amused sound that vibrates in her chest. “Mark, you know your money is no good with me after all these years. But Lauren joining us...” She taps a manicured finger against the wood desk, her eyes scanning your face, reading between the lines. “Now that is an incredibly fascinating idea.”

She glances back at her three trainees. Maya is currently turning a spinning rack of postcards around with a soft click-click-click; Heather is shifting her weight nervously, watching the flames in the hearth; and Vicky is staring straight at the check-in desk, her analytical blue eyes tracking the subtle shift in your and Dana’s posture.

Dana turns back to you, her voice dropping to an intimate, low murmur meant strictly for your ears. “This week is going to be grueling, Mark. I don’t hold back, and I break down walls. But Lauren has a beautiful, grounded energy. She might be exactly what this chaotic little group needs to balance out the friction. Consider her slot booked. No charge.”

She leans a fraction closer, a sudden, heavy spark of mature temptation dancing in her green eyes. “But if I’m letting your wife into my private circle for the week, you’ll have to promise to take extra good care of us. Deal?”

Before you can answer, she straightens up, her commanding, supple posture immediately drawing the eyes of the entire room back to the desk.