Up to Snow Good: A Small Town Holiday Romance Page 2

  Thankfully, college and careers took care of the distance. As he walked away, she wondered if he’d longed for her the way she had for him?

  Chapter Three

  Max

  Max sat across from his father’s desk; the great Eaton Hunter relaxed in his wingback leather chair, springs squeaking beneath him with every movement.

  “Excellent, Max, excellent.” He leaned back and chuckled, puffing on his half smoked Cuban cigar. “You made a good impression, and that was the smart move.”

  Max shrugged. The oak paneling and brass fixtures of the study gave the place a refined and dignified look, just the image his father projected. It was luxurious without being glitzy, masculine and powerful without sacrificing the pleasures of his station, but Max could never relax there. He always walked away feeling dirty like he’d crawled through a swamp.

  His father went on, “She was pretty torn up, I’m guessing.”

  Max sighed. It was too easy to remember that sad, pretty face. No amount of good intentions or neighborly sympathy would do anything to ease it.

  “She’s heartbroken.”

  “Figures,” his father said. “Those Matthews have always been soft and sentimental.”

  Max bit back what he wanted to say, knowing after a lifetime of obedience, what the price of rebellion would cost him. It was better to let his father indulge and think himself superior. For every angry altercation his father had with a tenant or client, there would be a visit from Max to mend the fences and put out the fires on the burning bridges.

  His father shrugged and pushed himself up from the chair with a grunt. He walked around the side of the desk to the cocktail cart. His robust chest leading the way. “She’ll have to toughen up, and with the way things are going, it won’t be easy.”

  The winters had been drying up, which meant more business for the shops and cafes in their portfolio, but it was lethal for Sunshine Lodge, and both men knew it.

  Pops poured himself a brandy and turned to tilt the decanter in a wordless offer.

  Max shook his head, and his father replaced the top, bringing it back with him to the desk.

  “It won’t be that bad when you think about it.”

  Max thought about what his father said, though doubt was worming its way into his conscience. “The winters, you mean?”

  His father shot him a glance that made his blood run cold. The widened eyes and raised brows meant trouble. He’d seen that look before. It was disbelief in his son’s shocking simplicity. “The winter?” Realization seemed to take his expression, softening from his fast-rising fury. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t know.” Max turned his ear for a better perspective of what he was about to hear.

  His father sat down behind the desk and pulled open the top drawer to reveal a manila envelope. He set it on the desktop and smiled. “Back when Frank and I were still friends, he had some debt problems.”

  “Can you be more specific?” Max asked, earning another glaring look. “If it’s business, I should know all the details.”

  His father seemed to give it some thought before deciding to explain himself. “He was a gambler. Gave it up years ago, and this was the reason.” His father tapped the folder with his chubby fingers. “He got in over his head and came to me for help. Like I said, we were still friends back then.” He shook his head. “Unbelievable. I help the guy out by saving his life’s work, and he betrays me the way he did.” He pulled the glass to his mouth and drank deeply.

  Max had heard the story countless times, and it had long become tiresome for reasons his father knew all too well.

  “I gave him the loan,” he went on, “but there was a simple contingency. If he failed to pay the debt, and he did, I would get to take Sunshine Lodge.”

  Max’s widened eyes couldn’t disguise his surprise. “You’re taking the lodge?”

  “Lock, stock, and barrel; for a reasonable price, of course. Frank wasn’t that desperate, and he wasn’t that stupid.”

  Max looked around the study as if the answer to his new dilemma was written on the wooden paneling. He had to appeal to his father in just the right way if he would have any chance at all of redirecting the course.

  “Pop, think about it, the lodge is dying. What do you want with it?”

  His father smiled and turned to grab a cardboard tube from behind the desk. He pulled out a rolled-up blueprint and spread it out across the desktop. “Wet Willie’s Water Park.”

  Max stepped around to stand on his father’s side of the desk, his eyes focusing on the blue lines and black numbers. Several big slides and shapes told Max what his father had in mind in clear enough detail.

  “A water park? Seriously?”

  “You’re damned right a water park. The winters are getting shorter, and the summers getting longer and hotter. Use your brain, son. Adapting is the key to a successful life.”

  Max sighed, hardly sure where to begin. “But a water park? It’s not really our brand, is it?” They owned lots of businesses from coffee shops to car parks, and Max had spent the last several years learning them all.

  “The dollar sign is our brand.” His father looked over the plans, nodding and smiling through a cloud of cigar smoke.

  “All right, but the people here won’t want an eyesore that includes a lot of big plastic slides. This is Moss Creek, Colorado, not Buena Park, California. People like the natural look of the place.”

  “They’ll like it plenty when the tourists pour in.” He pointed to one corner of the sheet. “We’ll use the lodge as a hotel, and the rides will circle it like this.”

  Max could already envision the mammoth monstrosity his father was proposing. The hordes of tourists, the T-shirts, and the balloons that would replace the tranquil setting. But the disheartened expression on Lauren’s face when she lost her family home was all he could imagine.—shock, sadness, and defeat.

  “Pop, this document, is it legal?”

  “One hundred percent, nothing she can do about it.”

  “What if she pays the debt?”

  “It’s too late. Frank has already defaulted.” He rolled up the blueprints and returned them to their cardboard container.

  “Okay, look, I know you have a certain way of doing things—”

  “I’m effective,” he broke in.

  “Disruptive too. Don’t forget, Moss Creek is a small town. Everybody will talk about it, about us, and they won’t go to the water park once they know how it came about. The Matthews are popular and well-liked.”

  “So?” He shook his head. “Forget the locals. It’s the tourist money we’re interested in. Think about it, Max; this is a gold mine.”

  He thought so hard his brain felt like it would explode. “Still, we live with these people. They’re our neighbors and our tenants.” He couldn’t say friends because his father didn’t have any. “Look, we have a public relations problem as it is. I’ve been keeping things calm, but this will put us over the top with the residents, and that will be nothing but trouble for us.”

  “But it will be worth it when the profits roll in.”

  “Maybe, but what if you could get the place without the black eye? That would be the smartest business move.” His father sat there with the tilted head that told Max the old man was thinking things out. “You would make a reasonable offer, anyway, so why not let me visit her to see if she’s interested in selling? I mean, the lodge has been struggling, and it doesn’t have much of a future. Maybe she’ll see it as a lucky break—a good time to start fresh somewhere else.”

  His father puffed and nodded. “Then, instead of being the bad guy, we’re coming to her rescue, riding in on the white horse and all that.”

  “Something like that.” Max hated the sound of it, but at least he was making progress with his father, and that would have to be enough.

  “All right, you’ve got a week to persuade her to sell.”

  “Two weeks. It’s nearing Christmas, and I need more time.”

  The old man
shot him a glare.

  “Two weeks,” Max repeated before stepping out of the study and into a dreaded conflict that could cost Lauren everything.

  Chapter Four

  Lauren

  Lauren stood in Sam Phelps’s seventh-floor office overlooking Moss Creek and beyond. At this time of year, the town should be white with snow and crowded with tourists—a flurry of business and industry happening below. Instead, the glare of the sun against the winter haze was almost blinding.

  Despite the lack of snowfall, the townsfolk had festooned Main Street with the holiday trappings of wreaths and ribbons, garlands and glitter. Christmas songs leaked out of the shops and restaurants, jing-jang-jingled, and wished all a merry little Christmas.

  Sadly, Lauren could enjoy none of it. It was more than just the horrific loss of her father, which still left her stunned into emotional exhaustion.

  Winter had long since lost its magic, its snowy charm depleted along with the town’s coffers. Instead of the happy and enchanted yearly celebration of her youth, Christmas only seemed to be a haunting reminder of all that had happened, all that she lost, and all that would change.

  The upcoming holiday felt like nothing more than a Hallmark holiday suggested by a riveting commercial, but it wasn’t anything to celebrate. It was something to mourn like so many other reminders of her childhood.

  Sam looked at his computer screen with a frown while his fingers clacked against the keyboard. He paused and leaned back, sighing as he refocused his eyes on Lauren, who stood on the other side of his desk.

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” There was a dip of resignation in his voice.

  “You can tell me how to save my home. You’re my accountant, and I’m counting on you.”

  “Look, I’m not a magician. The numbers are in charge here. You’re taking your third loss in a year. Your father refinanced the lodge to death. What if you took on a partner? A sponsor, maybe?”

  She shook her head. “We’ve already got deals with the local vendors,” she said. “I won’t turn my back on my neighbors to bring in Budweiser and Big Macs. That’s not the way my parents ran things.” She was on a steep learning curve, but screwing her neighbors over wouldn’t garner her support.

  He shot her a look over the glasses that balanced on the bridge of his nose. “There’s only you now.”

  He was right. The times had changed, and other things would have to change too.

  Sam continued, “With the way things are, you’ve got about two months before you have to default on the mortgage. After that, it will only be a matter of time.”

  She staggered back like someone had punched her in the gut, leaving her mouth dry and lungs winded. “But it’s my home. It’s my responsibility to make my parents’ memory live on.”

  He nodded. “I understand that, and I know this is a hard time, but look at it this way, if you sell now, you might get a little something out of it. Not much, but you’re still young, and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

  “The plan was for me to run the lodge,” she said, noting the quiver in her own voice.

  After an awkward pause, he said, “Given your experience and your degree in hospitality, you’d be qualified to work in another place—another resort. That might even be fun, working in a place like Hawaii or maybe on a cruise ship.”

  “No. My father lived for that property, and he died for it. It’s all I have left of my family. I’ve only just come back home, and I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t want to leave because all of my childhood memories are stored in those walls.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. Believe me, if there was anything I could do, I would.”

  They exchanged a few more awkward pleasantries before he saw her out of the office and to the street.

  She walked down the sidewalk, and a familiar face grabbed her attention. The elderly matron Lucille walked toward her.

  “Good afternoon Mrs. Dubois,” Lauren said. “Are you taking a walk?”

  “I’m having lunch at Lily’s Cafe. What about you?”

  “Just running a few errands.”

  Lucille nodded, her graying hair styled in an updo more suited to Victorian times, but she wore a pantsuit worthy of Jackie O. “I saw you at your father’s funeral. How are you faring?”

  Lauren was loath to lie, but she couldn’t go on burdening her neighbors with her mourning and misery. She had to get on with her life, though at that moment, she didn’t know how or why she could or should do such a thing.

  “I’m doing okay.” The small squeak to her voice was the best she could muster.

  “I hope so.” She glanced around, then leaned closer. “I noticed you chatting with Sally the other day, she had her kind side on display for everyone to see.”

  “Kindness is abundant at the moment.”

  “I’m glad, but you really must be careful now.”

  Lauren nodded, already knowing what the well-intentioned older woman was getting at. “She was being nice.”

  “She was nice today, but they’re all nice when they want something, and people will be extra nice when they’re getting ready to betray you. I know you’re a good person, we all know that, but others will use it against you. Be careful.”

  “Well, it’s sweet of you to concern yourself, but I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do to me.” She was already drowning in debt and despair. How much worse could it get?

  “That’s just what we should worry about. You’re young and naive, and that’s how they will get you.”

  Lauren walked away, wondering who they were?

  Chapter Five

  Max

  Max tried to ignore the smell of his grandmother’s perfume, which was always too strong for his taste. It had been a regular part of her wardrobe, and the doctor recommended having her wear it. Maybe it could give her fading brain the message she was still alive and living her normal life. Jog a memory that might bring her back.

  He understood how it worked. There were triggers he regularly experienced that brought him back to more pleasant times. Songs played, and he remembered how Lauren felt dancing in his arms. The smell of a lavender candle brought him back to their first kiss.

  Looking at his grandmother in that wheelchair, staring off into the distance, he couldn’t imagine she was thinking anything at all. Still, the doctors said she could hear voices, and be encouraged and loved, even if she couldn’t show any evidence of those things herself.

  They sat on the porch in the back of their family home, an expansive yard stretching out before them, and watched a bald eagle circle overhead.

  There were none of the iconic decorations of the season, no colorfully trimmed tree in the living room. His father had no time nor interest in such foolishness. They made one nod to the season, and that was classic Christmas tunes playing softly on the sound system, leaking out of hidden speakers on the exterior of the house. Mario Lanza and Mahalia Jackson gave the music a stately sophistication, an easy elegance that reflected the Hunter family’s image and privileged lifestyle.

  The Bible rested on Max’s lap, opened to the Book of Matthew. He could only assume it brought her some comfort, some sense of peace. His options were to read, or talk about his father, and he couldn’t do the latter with his grandmother’s nurse in close proximity.

  “Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”

  Jane Carlisle, his grandmother’s nurse, smiled a sweet expression of her admiration for the words, or his grandmother, he didn’t know. With one brow raised, there was a subtext to her slight smirk that was not lost on him.

  “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.”

  “Such beautiful words,” Jane said, “and how you read them makes them so moving.”

  Max smiled and shrugged, but he said nothing.

  Jane went on, “She’s lucky to have such a dutiful grandson, and one so handsome.”

  She finally excused herself
to the bathroom, and Max leaned closer to his grandmother.

  “What are we going to do about her, Grandma? You know she’s carrying on with my father. That’s fine, he’s allowed to find love, but he’s making bad choices. He’ll listen to you, though, you know that. You’re the only person he’ll listen to.”

  Old Ethel Hunter just sat in that chair, staring off into some faraway place Max could not visit. She had no answers or solutions, and when Jane returned to the porch, Max turned the page to keep reading.

  Jane had his father’s ear, besides other points of interest. He didn’t imagine he could turn her to his cause, but if she had any conscience at all, she might just be within reach.

  All Jane seemed to hear were poetic and pretty words. All she seemed ready to think about was his family’s wealth and power.

  He set the Bible down and took a stroll around the property, giving himself time to think. He had no allies in either his stricken grandmother or her duplicitous nurse.

  Could he convince her to join the cause? No, she’d do what was right for her, and that meant he couldn’t trust her any more than his father. There was no point trying to change his father’s mind about the lodge. He was lucky to get him to back off the legal claim for a couple weeks.

  He would have the horrible task of approaching Lauren and persuading her to sell.

  It was probably for the best, but it wouldn’t be easy.

  Chapter Six

  Lauren

  Lauren’s father’s death had cast a cloud over the lodge. The guests had checked out, and few reservations were coming in. Those who arrived found the somberness unavoidable. The cozy mountain retreat was once a refuge for families to savor the little joys of life, but now there just didn’t seem to be anything joyful here.