town where I’ve lived for so long. Snowy Valley feels like a part of my bones, part of my essence, who I am at my core, and I wonder if Filson feels that way when he walks through this town. I have a guess that he doesn’t. He stays off the beaten track for a reason and I just wish we were closer now to understand what his reason is. I wonder if he's still carrying the pain from his childhood, the same as I am.
Longing fills me up, and I wish I hadn’t bolted from my bedroom last night and had instead stayed in bed with him, the man who I want to hold my heart.
I tell myself not to dwell on that and instead I drop a few dollars into the collection box for the Salvation Army before I walk into my soup kitchen through the back door. Inside, I see Jody and Isaiah are already here heating up lentil soup and kneading the dough for loaves of bread.
“Good morning,” I say. “You both got in early.” Jody and Isaiah share a look I don't quite understand.
“Yeah, about that,” Isaiah says. “There's already a line out the front door. Crazy because last night it was totally dead.”
I nod. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Isaiah gives me a smile. “No, Jody and I had it covered.” He’s a good-looking guy with dark blond hair and a lean build. He’s a few years older than me and works from home. He builds apps and when he's not doing that, he donates his time working at the soup kitchen. Jody, though, is my one and only paid employee and I know the income matters to her in ways it doesn't for Isaiah. She has short brown hair and a warm smile, with dark brown eyes that looked like chocolate.
She’s a single mom who works her tail off for less than she's worth and she supplements that with child support and somehow makes ends meet. The irresponsibility of not coming up with a solution to save the kitchen weighs heavily on my chest. Never have I felt so beaten down.
“I have to tell you both something,” I admit.
“Maybe we could get some coffee and sit down for a second before we open?” Isaiah suggests.
“Is everything okay?” Jody asks, pouring us cups of coffee. Isaiah grabs the cream. The three of us have been working together for the last seven months since Granny Charlene died. Before that, I was away at college and living in the big city. After she passed, I moved here, and I took over her responsibilities. It wasn't a burden. It was a blessing. I never liked the city. It was far too loud and too busy. Snowy Valley holds a special charm with the looming mountains surrounding us, making us feel safe in the world. It’s where I always wanted to end up. I just never expected to end up here the way I did, without my granny.
Sitting down with my two coworkers-turned-friends, I exhale. “There's no easy way to say this, but after Christmas, we have to shut our doors.”
They share a look that shocks me. They act as if they knew this was coming.
“Wait, why aren't you having a bigger reaction?” I ask them.
Isaiah clears his throat. “Hey, don't get mad, but I called Foodsellers, Inc., yesterday. I asked about why the delivery wasn’t made and they said that there hadn’t been a payment in months. After you were so devastated over not getting the grant this summer, I figured our time was short.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t sure what to say. But the bank called yesterday and come New Year’s, I have to close the doors. I just kept thinking something would give. That this wouldn’t be the end.”
“You may be Snowy Valley’s sweetheart,” Jody says. “But you can be pretty stubborn.”
“I’m not stubborn,” I say.
Jody laughs. “Maple, it’s not a criticism. It's a compliment. You are firm and determined and have a lot of faith in people. We can use that during these next few weeks.”
“I just wish there was a cash flow instead of just… well, instead of us having to close our doors.”
Isaiah drinks his coffee. “Are we sure there isn’t? How has it been running for ten years?”
“The truth is, there has never been a lot of cash coming in. We’ve gotten donations over the years, but not enough to maintain anything. My granny was floating the soup