Chapter 25 Mistle-nope
mistle-nope
Holly
The hotel lobby smelled of polished wood and flavored coffee, with faux-fur throws draped over the backs of sleek leather armchairs. It was the kind of place where holiday music played softly, but the cheer was curated. Not unlike Holly’s office back home come December.
After a quick glance at her reflection in the glass door, she pushed it open, and stepped into the lounge. Near the fire, two people sat at a low table scattered with brochures. She recognized Chale Hale immediately, even without an introduction.
He looked every inch the investor he claimed to be, with his clean-cut, charismatic, and a little too polished appearance.
The woman beside him stood when she approached, offering a warm, but slightly guarded smile. “Ms. Kringle. Thanks for coming. I’m Rowan Hale, and this is my brother, Chad.”
“Holly please. And thanks for making time,” Holly said, shaking Rowan’s hand.
“Holly Kringle. Such an interesting name,” Chad said, gesturing for them to sit. “We would have assumed you were a crank call had Gwen Brooks not contacted us on your behalf.”
“Yes, I get that a lot,” Holly said, taking a seat.
“We’re glad you reached out. As you must know, the development scene in this region is about to blow up. I mean, why else would you be here? We both know it’s the perfect time to get in early.”
“We’re certainly interested. Walk me through your vision,” she said, folding her hands neatly on the table.
Chad launched into the presentation. It was smooth. Practiced.
“We’re talking twenty to thirty luxury cabins at phase one.
Gondola access to the ridge. There will be year-round appeal with fall foliage in the autumn, skiing in the winter, and mountain biking in the summer.
Not to mention our wellness retreats with influencer-ready aesthetics.
I’ve got early interest from two hotel chains and a recreational outfitter brand. ”
He swiped through renderings of gleaming timber lodges, firepits with glass walls, heated pools open all year, saunas, and hot tubs.
“Restaurants, bars, shopping, you name it.” Chad scrolled to another rendering.
“Winterwood’s got charm, sure. But it’s sleepy.
This development would bring jobs, tourism, and a serious bump in property values. ”
Rowan looked tense and unsure the entire time. Clearly not comfortable with what her brother was selling.
“And the land itself?” Holly asked, feigning casual interest. “I’m not sure the town of Winterwood is even as big as what you’re proposing. Is the land large enough to handle a development of this size? What about environmental considerations?”
Chad waved a hand. “There are more than enough forests in Vermont. People romanticize nature, but this way they can enjoy it without, you know… actually being in it.”
Rowan’s brow twitched, but she said nothing.
“And the town?” Holly pressed. “How have they responded?”
Chad shrugged. “We anticipate some pushback, but we’ll host a town hall at some point and convince them to see it our way. People always resist change at first. They’ll come around once they see what’s in it for them.”
Rowan finally spoke. “We need to be careful not to alienate people. This isn’t just land. It’s history, and it’s their home.”
Chad smiled, charming but dismissive. “People move on, or they move away. That’s what progress is. There are worse things than moving. Look at us. We moved all the time. We never had a hometown, and we turned out fine. People are nostalgic for something that doesn’t exist anymore.”
Holly stood. “Well, thank you, Chad, Rowan. This has been very informative. I’ll take a few of your brochures to share with my family. We’ll be in touch soon.” She held out her hand and shook theirs. A plan, already forming in her mind.
***
Holly was exiting the hotel when her phone buzzed with a text.
Rita: Chad and Rowan Hale. Parents passed away young (car accident).
Kids grew up in boarding schools. No hometown.
No community roots. Rowan spent several summers in Winterwood with her aunt.
Chad (seven years older) didn’t. Spent summers at camps: sailing, hockey, horseback riding, etc.
Betty Hale lived there all her life. Married once, but widowed at a young age.
No children. Land goes back generations.
“So,” Ivar said as Holly climbed into his truck. “How did it go?”
She handed him the brochures.
He whistled. “This is bigger than we thought. He doesn’t care if the whole valley gets clear-cut.”
Holly nodded. “No. But Rowan might. She’s not as sold on this. And, this is going to sound weird, but Chad seems to hate the forest on a personal level. I also received some information from Rita.” She explained the Hale’s background.
He glanced at her. “What are you thinking?”
She smiled slowly. “We make them care. We show them what they’ve never had.”
“You mean a hometown? Community?”
“Exactly.”
“And you think that will be enough?”
“It’s a start.”
Ivar gave a dry chuckle. “You’re planning to save the forest and pull off a Christmas movie arc with them?”
“You say that like it’s hard. Remember, I’m a Kringle. But we will need help.”
“And who would that be?”
She gave him a grin. “Why, the Christmas Carnival Committee, of course.”
He shook his head. “You really are going to Christmas-movie the heck out of this thing, aren’t you? And before you say anything, yes, I know. You’re a Kringle.”