Perched on a frozen ridge and framed by miles of untouched snow, the Hale Executive Retreat Lodge looks less like a holiday getaway and more like a monument to power.
As I go in, the glass doors whoosh shut behind me, sealing out the snow and sealing me into a world that feels far too intimate, far too exclusive.
The room glows with warm, golden lights strung across the walls, casting soft halos over garlands of pine and crimson ribbons. Clusters of white berries glimmer beneath the mistletoe, catching the soft glow of the Christmas lights. Stockings hang crookedly on the mantle, overflowing with candy canes and glittery tinsel. The scent of cinnamon, pine needles, and something sweet drifting from the oven fills the air.
“Amanda, finally,” one of my favorite colleagues says. She had
