Chapter 2 Snowzilla Holidate
SNOWZILLA HOLIDATE
HOLDEN WEST
“We’re a ski lodge. Isn’t snow our best friend?” I shook my head.
On Christmas Eve, Mother Nature had little care for the fact that we had our Grand Opening in a week. She sent a gift of the biggest snowstorm the area had seen in some time.
Snowzilla, aptly named by the National Weather Station, headed straight for us in the mountains above Steele Valley, and the forecasts were unanimous, that this would not be a gentle and sweet snow.
This was a shut-down-the-roads, secure everything in sight, and hope-your-generator-works type of snow.
Snowzilla threatened to bury my new Snow Quest Ski Lodge.
Across from my desk, the department heads traded stressed glances.
“Boss, Snowzilla will bury us.” Mack massaged the back of his neck like the storm had personally offended him. As my Grounds Crew Manager, if he looked worried, I listened. “The snow will be perfect, sure—but the wind with this one makes it too dangerous for people and plows on those switchbacks.”
My phone buzzed again with another alert. “The county emergency manager texted that they’re closing the road up the mountain within a few hours. No one should be on it once the storm hits. And a snowplow likely won’t get through for a couple of days,” I relayed the message.
“It’s Christmas Eve. The staff should be told now so they can evacuate before the road closes,” Toni reasoned.
“We should send everyone home for the holiday weekend so they can be with their loved ones.” Charles slid off his glasses and wiped them with the end of his silk tie, likely weighing the pros and cons from every financial angle.
Rita wrung her hands. As head housekeeper and unofficial lodge mom, I trusted her more than any spreadsheet when it came to morale.
“But there’s still so much to do before the grand opening.
I still have tinsel to hang on the lobby tree, and the shipment of Egyptian cotton towels just arrived.
They’re in the laundry and need sorting and hanging in every room. And what about—”
“Rita, we can finish it all after the storm. Safety first. We need to shut down for a few days, right Holden?” Charles cut in gently.
I held up my hands. “Everyone breathe. We’ll have time. We’ll make opening day happen.”
“Have you seen the long list of what we still need to do?” Mack muttered under his breath.
Rita leaned forward. “Holden, let a skeleton crew stay. If we keep working, we’ll be ahead—”
“No. You’re all going home.” I tapped my pen like a judge with a gavel, giving the final word. “It’s Christmas Eve, and the last place anyone wants to be is stuck here in a storm. Everyone should spend it with family.”
They exchanged more worried looks, but one by one, they agreed it was the right thing to do.
“We have seven days until the lodge opens on New Year’s.
You say a few days until snowplows push through, Mack?
” He confirmed with a nod of his head.“That gives us four days to prepare the lodge for opening. You and your teams have done a great job. We’ve come so far.
If we need to put in double time to finish up, we will.
But I won’t have people stuck here for Christmas.
What kind of vibes would that create for morale? ”
Mack pulled his sherpa-lined cap back on his head. “I’ll notify the ski patrol and secure the ski lift, plus lock down everything outside before I go.”
I came around my desk and followed them out.
Rita squeezed my forearm, her eyes warm with concern. “I suppose towels in a hundred rooms are inconsequential compared to getting safely off the mountain before Snowzilla appears.”
“Go home to your lovely daughters and enjoy the holiday.” I tried not to think about Opening Day being a bust because our luxury guest suites didn’t have towels.
At the door, Rita paused. “Holden, you’re leaving too, right?”
I shrugged.
“You’d spend Christmas here alone?” She cocked a brow.
“I think someone should stay and keep an eye on things. I can’t ask Mack. He has a family. I don’t.”
“Like a sea captain. If the ship goes down, you go down with it,” Charles chuckled, slapping my back.
“Something like that,” I agreed.
Rita appeared skeptical. “Well, um, if you do stay, please don’t try to fix anything yourself.”
I scoffed. “Rita. Come on. It’s me. I may own the place, but you know I like to pitch in where I can.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.” She left with one last worried look over her shoulder.
So, I wasn’t the most handy when it came to things around here. I helped where I could, but… well. There was that one time I replaced a lightbulb in the fourth-floor hallway and somehow turned off power to half the lodge.
And last week I volunteered to snow-blow the walkway and ended up blasting a rock straight through the window by the lobby door. Thankfully, we were able to have a new window installed before this storm threatened.
Oh, and how I tried to help the kitchen staff unload a food delivery truck this morning, grabbed a box, and ripped right through a case of eggs. Thirty dozen crashed to the floor. Lilah banned me from the kitchen, but surely she didn’t mean it.
Okay, so maybe my strength was less “handy mountain man” and more “keep everyone laughing and happy with their jobs.” But I liked my staff, and they liked me. We all made a great team—a source of pride. I held every belief that I was right where I was meant to be in life, finally.
Was this how Dad felt when he built West Games? Passionate enough to grind himself into the grave for a legacy… I built Snow Quest as my legacy. My way back after the accident. After Dad. After everything that went sideways.
My phone rang. The caller ID made the corner of my mouth quirk.
“Hey there,” I answered, smooth but professional.
“Holden, Merry Christmas,” Madison purred. “I’m confirming my plans for the interview.”
Madison was one of the Sports Network’s best reporters. She’d be coming to do a feature on Snow Quest—good publicity we couldn’t afford to screw up.
“Everything is arranged,” I said. “You’re booked in our best suite for your arrival on Wednesday.”
“I hope the suite comes with personal attention from the owner.”
Hm. Her sultry voice hinted at more. We’d hooked up a time or two over the years. Was she intent on mixing business and pleasure during her stay here?
If so, the nice thing about Madison was we could be familiar with no feelings involved—unlike the complicated history I had with Lilah. And why was I thinking about Chef Lilah at a time like this? It wasn’t like she’d warmed up to me at all since the day I hired her.
“In fact, up there on the mountain, I might get awfully cold at night. Perhaps I should stay warm with you in your suite? I wouldn’t want to catch a bug.” Madison made it very clear to me. A sensible man would’ve sidestepped that, but loneliness made stupid suggestions sound like good ideas.
“I’m happy to indulge your every need personally during your stay, Madison.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
At least I had something to look forward to on the other side of Snowzilla.
An hour later, word spread. Staff streamed through the halls with coats and scarves, calling Merry Christmas in their wake. I stood by the lobby doors to say goodbye because I wanted them to know I cared. This place and the people in it had become my home.
Charles approached. “Holden, I wasn’t serious about the captain going down with the ship. You really shouldn’t stay. If the storm does any damage to this place, and you were harmed, our insurance premiums would skyrocket.”
Leave it to Charles to worry about the bottom line. That was why I hired him. I might not always know what I was doing, but I knew how to hire people who did.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll lock everything down and spend Christmas with my brothers in the city,” I lied easily, as he passed through the doors into the chilly air where snow flurries attacked anyone who dared exit.
Truth was, my brothers were scattered across different states and countries this year.
Griffin was in Manhattan with Jessa and the kids.
Atlas was on an African safari. Beck holed away in Montana, writing a novel.
Landon was producing a holiday concert down in Kissing Springs and, according to our group text, “getting cozy” with a performer.
They’d all promised they’d be here for the grand opening on New Year’s Day, though. They’d better be—it was also my birthday, and I’d blocked a group of suites for them.
Mack texted before he left, confirming there was no one outside, and everything was secured. The usual ski patrol guards stayed at their posts.
I kept my SUV in a heated underground garage built for me and the managers.
The lodge had every bell and whistle my money could buy—generators, security systems, remote locks.
All controlled by apps on my phone. I’d spared no expense in making sure this mountain could run even on lockdown during Snowzilla.
I quickly toured all five floors of the lodge and didn’t see a soul in sight. When I returned to the lobby, I searched the kitchen for any sign of Lilah, calling her name, but she wasn’t around. Probably slipped out through the parking garage.
Avoidance seemed to be her thing, at least of me.
My phone buzzed. The West brothers group chat lit up with holiday memes.
Beck: Staying in my cozy cabin. We got snow dumped on us last night.
Holden: Snowzilla is about to hit the lodge here, too.
Atlas: Lovely name. I’d like to meet her sometime.
Landon: Does she have a sister?
Griffin: Bring her with you if you’re coming to the city before it hits.
Jokers.
I debated leaving one more time before it was too late. Griffin’s wife would cook an excellent meal, or their personal chef would. I could view Christmas through the eyes of my adorable niece and nephew. We’d have a real family holiday.
But Charles’s stupid captain line stuck in my head. So I lied again.
Holden: Got myself a sexy snow bunny to keep me cozy. Don’t wait up.
Better than admitting I was spending Christmas Eve alone in a hundred-room lodge, surrounded by my own questionable life decisions.
I shoved my phone away. I opened the front door for one last peek outside. Gray clouds made the sky darker. Wind howled and swirled powder around my boots in tiny funnels. Cold slapped my face.
Silence poured in the moment I shut the door and clicked the deadbolt—huge and echoing, turning the lodge into a cathedral of empty space.
For the first time all day, the imposter syndrome I kept buried reared its head. Who did I think I was, building and running a place like this?