It started with a sound—hammering, distant music, trucks on the gravel road beyond the hill. Construction. Robert heard it for weeks before he saw the final product. A luxury resort, tucked just over the ridge. Glossy, angular, modern. Out of place. But close. Very close.
At first, he didn’t mind. “Might raise property values,” he muttered to himself. And maybe it would. A boutique resort meant attention, maintenance, local business. He even thought the guests might buy wine. He told himself it was progress. Then came the footprints.