“Sometimes saying it out loud helps. Lay it all out. I’ll be your sounding board. Just let it out.”
She draws a shaky breath. “This cabin has been handed down from generation to generation in my family. We were one of the founding families of Frost Haven. We spent almost every summer weekend here growing up… winters too.
“The economy has hit the town hard. A lot of the families are struggling. What Frost Haven really needs is more employers, but one of the biggest ones is failing. They’ve laid off so many people they might shut down completely. And the big Christmas event they sponsored—the one that gave gifts to the kids? It’s been canceled for two years.
Her voice cracks. “I-we-Dom and I convinced the town council we could bring it back. I’ve gotten some toy donations, rented decorations, booked local vendors so they could earn something for the holidays. We have one week to get the hall decorated and set up with volunteers. Then finish getting gifts and bring back the joy to the town. All on a shoestring budget. And now… just a week to pull it all together. With only me.
“Dom was supposed to help find more sponsors to cover the expenses. He was also supposed to help me wrap gifts and handle setup.”
She exhales shakily. “These people are barely hanging on. They need jobs, hope, joy. We were supposed to help bring that back. Now I don’t know how I’ll get any of it done.”
“What was the business that shut down?”
“There was a small clothing factory—monograming and screen printing. Jerseys, caps, touristy stuff to be sold up at Witts Mountain. The items were sold in the gift shops here and up at the lodge and around the country. The products werequality, but they depended on one sports star sponsor. And then he tanked.”
She shakes her head. “You can’t rely on a single big name, but they signed a noncompete. Then the skier lost five years in a row, and their name spent more time in tabloids than real sports news. The merchandise quit selling, stores stopped ordering. They’ve finally gotten out of the contract, but they need a new name or backer product to get back on their feet.”
She paces a little, her frustration simmering. “They should have reached out to every athlete from the area—skier, skater, anyone—to help the whole local industry rebound. Witt Mountain Lodge is struggling, too.”
Letting out a humorless laugh, she looks at me. “The factory owner went to the mayor—who was elected because they had all these contacts and could bring more new business and jobs to the town—and he’s done nothing. All promises and lies, no action. They need a new damn mayor.
Her shoulders slump. “These are good people. They’re losing everything. It’s affecting almost every family in town. The kids… the kids are the ones really suffering.
“What are some of your ideas?” I ask gently.
“Something quick and simple to start. T-shirts with ski sayings likeSkiing is the only sport where you pay to get cold and fall down, orMy life is going downhill... and I love it!”
“Maybe,I skied to Witts’s end,” I offer.
She looks up, wide eyed. “Yes! That’s a perfect—something to get them going generic enough to sell. Get the community back to work. They have some shirts and caps left in stock, but not much money to operate. And no one to pitch the product.
“What else did you have in mind?”
“I think they should make funny shirts about falling in the snow or being a failed skier with a photo. Dom offered to be the test subject. I’ve already talked to Ed where they print the shirts.
Her enthusiasm is electric. Pure passion. I realize how long it’s been since I’ve felt anything remotely close to that.
“These funny shirts, show me what you mean.”
She goes to her suitcase and pulls out a bright red shirt. The front shows a younger Dom face-planted in a snowdrift, skies sticking straight up. UnderneathDominic Frost ~ two left skis
“Mom took this when he was still learning,” she explains. “We could do a whole series for kids to show everyone starts somewhere. All we need are photos and a release forms. That’s later down the road, but we could start with Dom and sell them in the local gift shops and up at Witt Mountain Lodge.”
She sinks back in her chair. “We could create a whole line for after the holidays. Dom’s shirt would be our test. Making his could get some people back to work.”
“Who sponsors this? Who profits?” I ask.
“Dom donated the photo and the rights for this one. The shop would print and sell them—it gives them revenue to stay open, at least for a while. They already have shirts in stock, and they’d be paying their employees. Hopefully it keeps them afloat until they can get new clients.”
She takes a breath. “Right now, I just need to decorate the hall, wrap gifts for the kids, and order food baskets so families have something to eat for the holiday.”
“How do you know all this about the town?”
“I spent summers here. And my friend at the coffee shop has been telling me for months how bad things were getting. She’s the one who told me the city canceled Kids Christmas Night.”
“How long do you have?”
“Five days. I’ve organized what I could from home.”
