He stared at her for a minute, then sucked in a noisy breath. “That’s it! Iconic! Six letters that ends in a C. Thank you!”
Sipping her tea, she just smiled at him, feeling a wave of affection for her precious grandfather. “No, Red, thank you. And, yeah, bring the Cornucopia. That’ll be awesome.”
And maybe, she thought with a smile, it would give her an excuse to talk to Marshall Hampton.
The kitchen had gone quiet at last. MJ wiped her hands on a dishtowel and let out a long breath after a busy day.
Cindy and Jack had gone to town for a late dinner together, so MJ had eaten Red’s chili alone, which was a welcome break. She dealt with a few guest issues, and now, at well past ten, there was peace. And…loneliness.
She waved the towel as if she could use it to swipe away that silly thought. MJ wasn’t lonely. She worked non-stop, had her daughter, grandson, father, sister, and niece within hugging distance most of the time, and her “alone” time was rare.
But it was in those rare windows that she missed George the most.
Tucking the dishtowel over the handle on her oven, she turned and looked at the mudroom ceiling, still dry after Matt had fixed it.
The temporary patch held, but the sight of it filled her with a strange, gnawing frustration that was probably the real source of her discontent. Things falling apart meant…money. And money meant…worry. And worry meant…selling the lodge. And selling meant…
MJ’s life was…over.
“Oh, stop it,” she murmured to herself, rooting deep for the positive attitude that had carried her through every moment in life—her childhood, her marriage, becoming a grandmother, losing her mother. Even kissing her husband goodbye in a hospital room with a promise to come back in the morning…only to learn he’d died overnight.
Through it all, she believed the cup was half-full, even if it tipped over and spilled sometimes. If they had to sell Snowberry Lodge, she’d still have her family, and, really, what else mattered?
Home,a voice in her head whispered. That’s what mattered. With a sigh, she turned to survey her little kingdom, the kitchen of Snowberry Lodge.
The brass fittings were tarnished, the paint peeling behind the sink. As she crossed to the pantry to return a bag of cocoa powder, MJ’s sharp eye picked out more chips, discoloration, and a slightly crooked cabinet.
Everything was small enough to ignore in isolation, but somehow painted a picture of a world—alife—fraying at the seams.
She stopped in the middle of the room, fighting tears.If this is just the kitchen,she thought, what about the guest rooms? The cabins? The bathrooms?
Cheap repairs. Quick fixes. Band-Aids on problems that needed surgery. The truth was, they were barely keeping up appearances, and they were in a very precarious position.
It wasn’t just the lodge getting old, outdated, and sad. It was…MJ herself.
Walking to the window, she looked at her reflection in the dark glass, not liking what she saw at all. She turned, refusing to go down some sad hole of…of sadness. George always said, “Wallowing won’t fix a thing.”
And right now, a lot of things needed to be fixed.
Just as she stepped into the hall, the front door banged open, letting in a rush of cold mountain air and a chime of laughter.
Cindy and Jack swept inside, cheeks flushed from the cold and a special happiness that MJ hadn’t seen on her sister’s face in a decade. They were arm in arm, heads bent close, laughing softly like teenagers, unaware of her watching them.
MJ smiled despite herself. Gracie had a phrase for this—the love bubble.And these two were smack in the middle of one.
Cindy looked ten years younger these days, her wheat-toned hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes sparkling. Jack’s hand rested possessively at her waist, his grin boyish and unguarded. Watching them like this—rekindled, renewed—lifted her heart.
MJ didn’t need to have that kind of love but, goodness, she was so dang happy that Cindy did.
“Well, don’t you two look like trouble,” MJ teased, folding her arms as they came toward her. “I was beginning to think you’d run off and eloped.”
Jack chuckled. “Not yet. We just got caught up talking after dinner.”
“It’s the most beautiful night in town,” Cindy said, practically cooing the words. “You know, that lull between Christmas and New Year’s Day, and everyone is relaxed and happy. Main Street is still shimmering and all the snow globes are lit. It’s gorgeous.” She looked up at Jack, who gave her a squeeze.
“So are you,” he said, staring at Cindy like he had the day he’d watched her come down the aisle.
MJ’s heart gave a bittersweet twist. She was genuinely joyous for her sister, but the sight stirred something deeper—a whisper of hope she tried to smother.
