His expression fell so dramatically that I almost felt sorry for him. “You people are insufferably dull.”
I couldn’t help but smile at his obvious distress. The look on his face was like someone had just told him Christmas was canceled permanently.
“Just kidding,” I said, and watched relief flood his features. “It was too easy.”
He shook his head, but I caught the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re evil.”
“Come on,” I said, gesturing toward the front door. “I’ll show you where we keep the good stuff.”
I led him outside and around the wraparound porch to a small outbuilding that jutted off from the back of the lodge. Ithad been our bar back in the day, though we hadn’t used it in at least two years.
The door creaked ominously as I pushed it open. The smell of dust and disuse wafted out. I felt around for the light switch, flicking it on to reveal what had once been the heart of our evening entertainment.
It was a simple but well-designed space, a proper bar with enough seating on high-top stools for about eight people, plus a few small tables scattered around the room. Like everywhere else in the lodge, the walls were covered with framed photographs depicting the property’s history, though these focused more on the social aspects. Pictures of wedding receptions, holiday parties, summer barbecues from decades past.
The bar itself was still well stocked. Bottles of whiskey, rum, vodka, and various mixers lined the shelves behind the bar, covered in a thin layer of dust but otherwise intact.
“This place hasn’t seen much action lately,” I said, moving behind the bar and running my finger along the surface, leaving a clean line in the dust. “We used to have someone to run it, but…”
I trailed off, not wanting to get into the details of our staffing cuts and budget constraints with someone who clearly wouldn’t understand what it meant to choose between paying an employee and keeping the lights on.
“But?” Kent prompted, settling onto one of the barstools.
I grabbed a bottle of bourbon, something that looked expensive enough that Kent wouldn’t complain. “We’re in dire straits,” I said finally. “We don’t have the money to pay someone to staff the bar anymore. We used to have a small winery on the property, served our own wine. Had an extended family member who ran a brewery too, but that shut down a few years ago.”
I poured the bourbon into two glasses, adding a splash of ginger ale to mine and leaving his neat. The confession felt strangely liberating, like naming the problem out loud made it more manageable somehow.
“The whole town is suffering,” I continued, surprised by how easy it was to talk to him. “The Northwood family owns more than half of Northwood Township, and we employ over fifty percent of the locals across all our various businesses. If the tree farm goes down…”
I didn’t finish the thought, but Kent seemed to understand.
“Domino effect,” he said.
“Exactly. And then there won’t be anywhere left for me here. This is all I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever wanted to do. If we lose the farm, I lose everything.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Change isn’t always a bad thing,” he said. “Some fresh blood. It might hurt because it doesn’t look the way your family pictured it, but maybe something good and new could come out of the fall of their mini empire.”
I stared at him. I wanted to be mad but knowing there might be some truth to his words. I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to think about Northwood being potentially better without the Northwoods.
I handed him his drink and took a sip of mine, immediately regretting it when the bourbon hit my throat like liquid fire. I started coughing and sputtering, my eyes watering.
Kent, meanwhile, took a long pull from his glass like he was drinking water. “Smooth,” he said approvingly.
“How are you not dying right now?” I gasped, still trying to clear the burning sensation from my throat.
He laughed. “Practice. This is good bourbon, by the way.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m more like a cider and mulled wine type.”
“Like I said,” he added with a teasing grin. “Dull.”
I rolled my eyes. “I am not dull.”
“Cider. Mulled wine. Christmas trees. What’s next, hot chocolate and cookie decorating?”
