I paused on the path, looking up at our family’s pride and joy with a heavy heart. The Northwood Lodge was operating at about thirty percent capacity. It was a record low that made my chest tight with worry. I could remember when this place used to be bursting at the seams during the holiday season. Families would book rooms a year in advance, and they’d pack in extended relatives on cots and sleeping bags because being together mattered more than having perfect accommodations.
Now some families booked separate rooms for their teenage kids rather than share a suite. Togetherness didn’t seem to mean as much as it used to. Everything was about convenience and personal space and having the latest gadgets to keep everyone entertained individually instead of finding entertainment in each other’s company.
The thought made me sadder than I wanted to admit. This was going to be a challenging year. Mom and Dad were breathing down my and Brom’s necks to restore the lodge and tree farm to its former glory, but how were we supposed to compete with big commercial tree lots and fancy resort destinations? We were just a small family operation in a tiny mountain town that most people had never heard of.
And then there were the rumors floating around town about some business tycoon from New York City who supposedly had his sights set on property around Northwood. Nobody knew exactly what that meant, but it had everyone on edge. Local business owners were nervous. Long-time residents were worried. Even the mayor seemed more stressed than usual.
Tomorrow, the day after Thanksgiving, Christmas season would officially begin. Our busiest time of year. Our make-or-break time. If we didn’t make decent money this year, there would not be a next year.
We all knew how important this season was. We were all going to be busting our butts trying to salvage our family legacy.
And while Mom had Dad and Brom had Stacy, I was alone.
Romance definitely wasn’t on the table for me this year. I had way too much to worry about, way too much riding on making this season successful. I had to focus. No distractions. Yes, I wanted the husband and family, and yes, my biological clock was moving from a ticking sound to a drumbeat, but it would have to wait.
“Sylvie! There you are!”
I looked up to see my brother Brom stepping out onto the porch with his wife, Stacy, beside him. They both waved when they spotted me trudging up through the snow. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them. Brom wrapped his arm around Stacy’s waist, pulling her close and dropping a kiss on top of her head. The gesture sent a little pang through my chest.
They looked so perfect together, so settled and happy. Brom was tall with the same dark hair and green eyes that ran in our family, while Stacy was petite and blonde and upbeat. They’d been high school sweethearts, had weathered the storms of young adulthood, and had built this life together with their two beautiful children.
I loved seeing them happy, I really did. But it also made me acutely aware of how single I was, especially during the holidays when everything seemed designed for couples and families.
“You look like you’ve been wrestling with the trees,” Stacy called out, laughter in her voice.
“Just one tree,” I called back, making my way up the porch steps. “And I won.”
“That’s my sister,” Brom said proudly. “Everything working now?”
“The lights are fixed and the tree is upright,” I reported. “I’m calling it a victory.”
“The bar for victory keeps getting lower,” Stacy teased, but she was already ushering me toward the lodge entrance. “Come on, you must be frozen solid. Your mom’s been asking about you.”
We reached the front doors and I paused for a moment to look back over the property. The tree farm stretched out below us, now properly illuminated with twinkling lights that reflected off the fresh snow. Beyond that, the mountains rose up against the dark sky, creating the perfect backdrop for what should have been a thriving holiday destination.
It was beautiful. It was magical. It was everything a Christmas vacation should be.
So why weren’t more people coming?
I was immediately hit with a wave of warmth and cheerful noise that made my spirits lift despite everything. The lodge was alive with activity in the great room. Our guests were minglingand children’s laughter echoed from the main hall. The soft sound of Christmas music played in the background. I took off my coat and hung it on the hook, more needles falling to the floor.
“Sylvie, sweetheart!” My mother appeared almost immediately. “Look at you, all covered in snow and pine needles. Come sit by the fire and warm up.”
Before I could protest, she steered me toward the massive stone fireplace that dominated one wall of the main room. The fire crackled and filled the air with the scent of burning cedar.
I sank into one of the comfortable armchairs positioned near the hearth, grateful for the warmth that immediately began seeping into my frozen bones. From this vantage point, I could see the entire main room of the lodge, and despite my worries about occupancy rates, I had to admit the scene was pretty wonderful.
Children were playing while their parents sipped spiked punch and chatted with other guests. Singles and couples had found cozy corners near the windows to watch the snow continue to fall outside.
Maybe some people still understood what the holidays were really about. Maybe there were still families out there who valued togetherness and tradition over convenience and commercialism. Maybe we just needed to find a way to reach them.
“Mind if I join you?” Brom’s voice interrupted my thoughts. He settled into the chair next to mine. It was just the two of us by the fire. It was just like when we were kids and would sneak down here on Christmas morning before anyone else was awake.
“How are you holding up?” he asked quietly, his voice pitched low so our conversation wouldn’t carry to the guests nearby.
I considered giving him some cheerful, everything-is-fine answer, but this was Brom. My older brother, my business partner, my best friend in the whole world. If I couldn’t be honest with him, who could I be honest with?
“I’m scared,” I admitted, staring into the dancing flames. “I’m scared this might be our last year, and that everything is about to change.”
