Cage walked her through some of the common areas inside the main building, such as the game room, the TV room, and the library—all of which had recently been renovated. Afterward, he took her into the dining room and the kitchen, where Kate was already busy with preparing the evening meal.
“Welcome to Sanctuary,” Kate greeted with an easy smile. “I see Nick’s giving you the grand tour.”
“Yes, he is.”
Cage did the introductions. “Bree, this is Kate, chef extraordinaire. She makes sure we’re all well fed. Kate, Bree De Rossi.”
“Nice to meet you, Kate. I saw you at Franco’s last night, didn’t I?” Bree asked. “Checking out the competition?”
“Not exactly.” Kate chuckled. “Just enjoying a night off. Sometimes, it’s nice to eat a meal made by someone else.”
“I’m not much of a cook myself, so that’s something I can fully appreciate.” Bree looked around the space, filled with gleaming appliances and gadgetry.
Kate and Sam were as passionate about their kitchen space as Cage was with his tech.
“This kitchen is amazing.”
“It really is,” Kate agreed. “I love working here.”
“Do you run the entire kitchen yourself?”
“Oh, no. It’s a team effort.”
A timer dinged, and Kate excused herself. Cage had the distinct impression that Bree would have liked to talk more with Kate, but they were on a schedule.
“She seems really nice.”
“Kate’s awesome,” he agreed. “And a hell of a cook.”
“Is she former military?”
“No.”
He steered Bree toward the new greenhouses behind the kitchen, concluding the indoor portion of the tour. He’d stayed away from the private living areas and the war room. Allowing her to see their setup would only invite more questions and add unnecessary fuel to claims that they were more than they appeared. They were, but that was beside the point.
“Our greenhouses are a work in progress, as you can see. Eventually, we hope to expand, so we can grow a significant portion of our own produce.”
She took in the massive hexagonal space, turning around in a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle. “What are all those pipes for?”
“Hybrid hydroponic system,” Mad Dog answered, appearing behind them, right on cue. “We supplement the soil with collected rainwater and nutrient rich water from the stock pond and then recycle it back.”
“Bree, this is Chris. He designed these greenhouses.”
“I’m impressed. This is some cutting-edge stuff.”
Mad Dog beamed proudly as Cage kept them moving forward, leading Bree outside. Off to the right, Justin, one of Sanctuary’s first residents after officially opening its doors, had the dogs in a large, fenced-in area.
“What’s going on over there?” Bree asked.
“Therapy dog training. The dogs are rescued strays, by the way.”
Bree hummed softly. Cage was careful to keep their distance from the enclosure, using the training as an excuse. While Justin was great with the dogs, he wasn’t keen on socialization, though he was considerably better than he had been when he first arrived.
They strolled along the tree line, where Cage pointed out the trails used for walking, horseback riding, and in the winter, snowmobiling.
Heff appeared, crossing the path ahead of them on his horse with another in tow and offering a friendly wave.
“You have horses too?” Bree asked, her eyes bright.
“We don’t, but we have a partnership with a local hippotherapy place and plenty of trails to explore.”
They continued to the lake and the newly reconstructed dock. Cage suggested they sit in the shade of the gazebo while Bree asked questions about the program. He patiently answered them all, even the personal questions she slipped in occasionally.
“I have to ask ... what’s a lake doing in the middle of the mountains?”
Cage laughed. “I asked the same question. The area is rich with mountain springs, some created as far back as the Ice Age.”
“Glacial water, huh? I can see where this place could be very therapeutic,” she continued. “Plenty of open space, very tranquil and in sync with nature. I imagine property like this is worth a fortune. How did you find such a gem?”
“It was donated by the family,” he said carefully.
“Patriotic bequeathal?”
“Something like that.”
Matt Winston’s personal life wasn’t up for discussion. Property and tax information was a matter of public record. If she wanted to, she could trace the ownership easily enough.
“So, what is it you do here, Nick?”
“Whatever needs to be done,” he answered honestly. “But I guess if you have to put a label on it, you could say I’m the IT guy.”
“You don’t look like an IT guy,” she said, reaching for his hand.
He went still when she lightly ran her fingers over the calluses and unknowingly fired off a chain reaction of sensation in other places.
“And these are definitely not the hands of a computer geek.”
“Like I said, I do whatever needs to be done,” he replied, glad his voice remained even.
She removed her fingers and jotted something down in her notebook, closing it back up before he could see what she had written.
“This place was in rough shape when we started.”
“You’re one of the owners then?”
It felt weird to think of himself as an owner even though, on paper, he was. Church had made him, Smoke, Doc, Heff, and Mad Dog equal financial partners, but the property and everything on it was Church’s family legacy.
“It’s a partnership,” he confirmed.
“You’re all military?”
He nodded.
“Did you serve together?”
“Not as a unit, no, but we all served with Matt at one time or another. Sanctuary is his baby. The rest of us are just here to help make it a reality.”
“Explain to me what that dream is.”
“You’ve read the mission statement.”
“I have,” she agreed, opening her notebook again. “But I want to hear it in your words.”
He thought about that for a minute before answering, “Serving this country is an honor and a privilege, but it does change the way you see things. Military life is much different than civilian life. It’s highly structured with a clearly defined chain of command. You’re no longer an individual but part of a team. Returning to civilian life is an adjustment and not always an easy one. Sanctuary helps with the transition by providing a bridge between military and civilian life. Guests can acclimate back into civilian society at their own pace, surrounded and supported by those who’ve been where they are.”
Scribble, scribble. “What about those who suffer from PTSD?” she asked.
“PTSD covers a wide spectrum; however, we’re not equipped or qualified to handle severe cases. Applicants go through a rigorous screening process. Those who require care and services beyond what we provide are referred elsewhere.”
“So, basically, you’re telling me that Sanctuary does not pose a danger to the local community?”