He didn’t answer, but banged at something, and then began dragging careful loads of snow, creating a narrow trench along the eave.
“Sock,” he called down, and she placed it in his free hand when he reached. He laid the sock across the ice and climbed a little higher, fearless, pressing it into place.
When he finished, he climbed down with easy grace, stepping way back and looking up at the roof with a critical eye, silent and thinking.
“Were you able to fix it?” she asked, wondering why he was so quiet.
“The leak, yes, but…” He screwed up his face and looked from one side of the roof to the other. “Maybe I’m imagining it, but does it look like that side is sagging a bit?”
She followed his gaze over the dining area and mudroom. “Maybe, but I think it’s been that way forever. It’s an old building.”
“Yeah, and that’s normal, but sometimes a popped nail means a support beam is cracked,” he said. “I’m no roofer, but I’d get that checked ASAP.”
She stifled a sigh. Yet another expense. “I will,” she said. “And the leak?”
“If we’re lucky, it’ll chew itself a path and let the water out the gutter right there.”
“What if we’re not lucky?” she asked, hugging herself against the wind.
“Don’t worry, Mary Jane. If there’s one thing I am, it’s lucky.” He smiled at her, the porch light putting a gold rim on him. “Go inside. You’re shivering.”
She obeyed, both of them stepping over the towels on the floor.
“Let’s give it an hour and then I can go back up to check on progress. I don’t want to invite new disasters.”
“There’s always one right around the corner,” she said, fighting absurd tears as she started the motions of making a nice cup of hot tea for both of them.
“Is it that bad?” he asked, perching on a bar stool to watch her.
“It’s worse,” she said, the adrenaline dumping after the spike caused by finding yet another repair. “The estimate for a new roof—which we haven’t had since my mother paid for the lastone—is…” She thought of the number. “Let’s just say it might as well be a trillion dollars. We don’t have it.”
“Oh. I knew things were tight, but when something like this hits…it’s demoralizing.”
“The roof isn’t even the first thing we need,” she continued, her head buzzing. Maybe that wasn’t adrenaline. Maybe that was the second glass of wine or the man who’d just swooped in like Mighty Mouse and saved the day.
Maybe she was tired of dancing around an interrogation—which she was terrible at—and just wanted a shoulder to cry on. And the shoulders on the man who was seated at her kitchen island right now were strong and sturdy and available.
“Cindy carries the weight of it,” she said, turning from the kettle to look at him. “She’s the numbers gal and she knows just how bad things are.”
“I thought you were all celebrating the big win in December, with a full house.”
“That paid the tax bill,” she said. “But it’ll be back next year and we simply cannot compete with the likes of the new Grand Hyatt, right on the lift line at Deer Valley, or the upscale, super modern, totally fabulous Airbnbs sucking the wind out of our reservations.”
“How do you fix that?” he asked. “Marketing? Is that why you were asking how I found the place?”
She shook her head. “Obviously, we need to upgrade the lodge—repair the roof, renovate the kitchen and bathrooms in the cabins, put in new floors, wallpaper, lighting—it would take hundreds of thousands of dollars to do what we need. Six figures, and the first one isn’t a one. Or a two.”
“Would that solve all the issues?” he asked, genuinely interested.
“It would start, but…”
“But what?” he urged.
She gave an awkward laugh. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem.”
He leaned his elbows on the island, regarding her. “If money weren’t an object and you could do anything with Snowberry Lodge, what would it be?”
He asked so seriously that she considered her response just as seriously. Not that it took too much thinking. MJ knew exactly what she wanted—she and Cindy had shared this dream since they were little girls.
