Up to Snow Good - Kelly Collins Page 0,56

home to him one way or the other. My father portrays himself as a victim of Lauren’s blood feud, but I’m here to tell this isn’t true. He may see it that way, but I doubt it. He claimed to put his old feelings aside for our sake, for all of our sakes. I hoped he was sincere. I can’t stand here now and claim to know what’s in his head and heart, but I can tell you what’s in Lauren Matthews’ heart. She loves me, she loves the lodge, and she loves Moss Creek. All she wanted was to go on living here, with you, serving you, and our visitors. Times are challenging, but she wants nothing more than to remain by your side to face those obstacles together, and I want nothing more than to stand by her.”

Her pulse quickened, and a warm rush filled her.

“And I will,” Max said, “nothing that is said or done here today can stop that or come between us. We’ve been apart too long, and we’ll never separate again. So, we’re not here to appeal to you for that reason, but we do want to stay at the lodge that her parents owned, and that will be up to you. It’s rare that any of us has the chance to change a person’s life. When do we have it in our power to give a person’s home back to them, to give them new hope for a new life? It’s a Christmas miracle, or would be if you’d all join us and rise to the occasion.”

The townsfolk shared guilty glances.

“The lodge isn’t just our dream, not only her parents’ dream, it’s everybody’s dream, it’s the American dream. Can we really stand by and watch as it’s swindled out from under her? My father has a point. If this happens today, it will happen again. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. What happens here, the choices we make today, will resonate long into our future. I know I’ll be able to sleep tonight having made the choices I’ve made. Will you all be able to do the same?”

He looked out over the crowd before sitting down next to Lauren. Mayor Shipley glanced at her with a hopeful nod of his head. “Did you want to say anything, dear?”

Lauren looked at Max, a cold, nervous chill passing through her despite his reassuring nod as she stood on wobbly legs. She’d given it some thought, preparing her remarks in advance. She cleared her throat, surveying the grim expressions of the community.

“I very well might lose today, and that is discouraging because my greatest regret is that I won't be able to continue the legacy of my parents. All they wanted was to provide a place where people could come and share a story, a meal, and a laugh.” Her voice grew louder, stronger, and no longer quivering with nerves. She glanced around the room. “Each one of you has been there. If you think long and hard enough, I’m sure you could come up with a time when my family offered you something you couldn’t get anywhere else. It was most likely advice, a hug, or Ruthie’s stew.” She sighed. “I miss my parents. The lodge is the biggest thing I have to remember them by, but it’s not the only thing.” She placed her hand on her chest. “They live in my heart.”

Lauren sat back down next to Max. She leaned against him, hands trembling as he wrapped his arms around her. There was nothing more to say. Their futures lie in the hands of people they would forgive, no matter what decision they came to.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Max

Mayor Shipley considered his constituents who were gathered for the meeting. He seemed weakened, and Max believed it was because the man had been bought off or otherwise influenced by his father.

“All right,” the mayor said, “we’ve heard the arguments, and you all know what’s at stake. In the matter of proposing the lodge for qualification as a National Heritage Site, we are about three hundred strong, and the bylaws show that this is the voting party. How do you vote, by a show of hands: yay on the proposal?”

Max and Lauren looked around as the hands rose. Ruthie was the first, with no hesitation. Surrounded by women of her age, they all raised their hands along with her. Several men, whom Max took for local gardeners, raised their hands as well. They wore expressions of grim determination, seeming