Up to Snow Good - Kelly Collins Page 0,7

he’ll listen to.”

Old Ethel Hunter just sat in that chair, staring off into some faraway place Max could not visit. She had no answers or solutions, and when Jane returned to the porch, Max turned the page to keep reading.

Jane had his father’s ear, besides other points of interest. He didn’t imagine he could turn her to his cause, but if she had any conscience at all, she might just be within reach.

All Jane seemed to hear were poetic and pretty words. All she seemed ready to think about was his family’s wealth and power.

He set the Bible down and took a stroll around the property, giving himself time to think. He had no allies in either his stricken grandmother or her duplicitous nurse.

Could he convince her to join the cause? No, she’d do what was right for her, and that meant he couldn’t trust her any more than his father. There was no point trying to change his father’s mind about the lodge. He was lucky to get him to back off the legal claim for a couple weeks.

He would have the horrible task of approaching Lauren and persuading her to sell.

It was probably for the best, but it wouldn’t be easy.

Chapter Six

Lauren

Lauren’s father’s death had cast a cloud over the lodge. The guests had checked out, and few reservations were coming in. Those who arrived found the somberness unavoidable. The cozy mountain retreat was once a refuge for families to savor the little joys of life, but now there just didn’t seem to be anything joyful here.

Lauren and her father had put up the sparse Christmas decorations before his death. A rustic wreath hung on the front door. A noble pine circled with small white lights sat in front of the great-room window. It was all understated, a holiday by happenstance, and wouldn’t have a celebratory feeling at all if not for the Christmas music playing through the sound system. Quietly, the iconic voices of Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, and Bing Crosby crooned the classic melodies.

Patrick and Cindy spent more and more time secreted away in the far corners of the lodge, and Ruthie stayed in the kitchen worrying more than she cooked.

Looking around the lobby, it was impossible not to remember the better times, when crowds of skiers mingled and laughed and ate and drank. She could almost smell the cocoa they used to serve, but there was no longer any need for the sweet, steamy drink when the weather peaked at nearly seventy degrees. Cold chocolate shakes were more fitting.

The big walnut front doors opened, grabbing her attention. The handsome young man who entered brought with him a humble smile, hovering just above his strong chin.

“Max,” she said. “We meet again.” She didn’t understand why he kept showing up in her life these last few days but was glad to have the distraction. Years ago, he would have made her heart pound, and her body almost feverish. Now he was just another painful regret. Another loss she’d have to live with.

He nodded as he approached, glancing around the nearly empty lobby. “Place looks good.”

“Thank you.” Her smile was becoming tiring, but it was her mask of choice. “It’s feeling spacious these days.” They shared a little chuckle. “Looking for a room?”

“No, I was thinking about you and all that’s going on. When I said I’d help in any way I could, I meant it.”

“Yeah, I know you did.” It warmed her that he was trying, but the help she needed wasn’t something she could ask him for.

After another glance around, Max continued, “I feel like everybody says that, but what can a person really do, you know? I remember when my mother died. People were eager to help, but they couldn’t bring her back. All they could do was show they cared.”

“Is that what you’re doing now? Is this you caring?”

“Yes, I care.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. “I was thinking there might be something I can do. I mean, it’s a big place. Are there no fences that need mending? Burning bridges to put out?”

He smiled, but it was a challenge, and she could see that. Their pleasantries could only dance around the unspoken conflict between them, something she wished had never happened, much less continued to be a lingering problem.

“It’s good of you to be concerned.”

“Not at all, we were once friends—more than friends.” After another long stretch of silence, Max went on, “Care for lunch? As