I flinched at the venom in her voice. Emmy was usually the peacekeeper, the one who tried to see the best in everyone. Hearing her talk like this felt wrong, even if part of me agreed with her.
“I couldn’t just let him freeze to death,” I said quietly.
“Why not? He was perfectly willing to let your family’s legacy die. He was ready to watch this entire town get destroyed for oil money. You’re too good, Sylvie. Too forgiving. Some people don’t deserve your kindness.”
I stared down into my cocoa, watching the marshmallows slowly dissolve. “It felt like the right thing to do at the time.”
“The right thing would have been slamming the door in his face.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe I should have been harder, meaner. Maybe I should have let him figure out his own sleeping arrangements and transportation problems. But even now, even knowing what he’d done to us, I couldn’t bring myself to regret showing him basic human decency.
“He looked so broken, Emmy. Like he genuinely regretted what happened.”
“Good. He should regret it for the rest of his miserable life.”
When I made it back to the lodge for dinner, I could hear the sounds of celebration before I even reached the front door.
I paused on the threshold, taking in the scene. Brom was telling some story that had the whole table laughing. I had a feeling we were all just playing along. The guests didn’t need to know they were some of the last.
The vibes were perfect. At least, they would have been perfect if not for the last twenty-four hours.
Kent had single-handedly snuffed out my Christmas spirit. I was furious with myself for letting him have that kind ofpower over me. I could choose to let Kent’s betrayal define this Christmas, or I could choose to carry on and worry about the future later.
“Sorry I’m late,” I called out as I shed my coat.
I sat down at the table, immediately feeling the weight of unspoken tension settling over all of us like a heavy blanket. I could see the strain around everyone’s eyes as they tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy for the guests.
“How was the farm today?” Mom asked, passing me a plate of pot roast.
“Busy,” I said, grateful for the mundane question. “Lots of families looking for trees. Not a bad turnout so late in the season.”
Stacy cleared her throat, glancing around the table before speaking. “I should probably mention, when I was cleaning Kent’s room this morning, I found a hundred-dollar bill on the nightstand. I guess it was supposed to be a tip.”
The silence that followed was deafening. I watched Dad’s jaw tighten, his knuckles going white where he gripped his fork.
“A hundred dollars,” Brom said, his voice dripping with disgust. “Like that makes up for anything. Like he can just throw money at the mess he made and call it even.”
“I still have it,” Stacy continued quietly. “I don’t want his guilt money.”
Mom nodded approvingly. “Good. We don’t need his charity.”
“Speaking of Kent,” Brom said, turning to look at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “I saw him last night when he came to get his things. Had a few words with him by the fireplace.”
My stomach dropped. “What kind of words?”
“The kind he deserved to hear,” Brom replied grimly. “Told him exactly what I thought about rich pricks who come here and mess with our family.”
I felt heat creeping up my neck. “He slept on my couch,” I blurted out, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
The entire table went silent. I could feel everyone staring at me.
Dad put down his fork. “He what?”
“He was drunk,” I said quickly, hating how defensive I sounded. “Too drunk to drive safely. I couldn’t just let him?—”
“You absolutely could have,” Brom interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “You could have let him figure out his own damn problems instead of taking care of the man who just screwed our entire family over.”
“Brom, lower your voice,” Stacy warned, glancing toward the other tables.
