Sleigh Bells in Park City (Christmas in the Canyons #1)

Chapter 1 Cindy

Somehow, Cindy Kessler had made it through Thanksgiving dinner, smiling and talking with family and the few guests they had at Snowberry Lodge this year. She’d held it together during the preparation and baking, the proclamations of gratitude and easy laughter, the dinner and dessert.

Now, wiping a dishtowel over a just-washed roasting pan, she knew it was time to share the very bad news with her sister.

But Cindy just wasn’t quite ready to ruin MJ’s holiday.

Instead, she absently looked around the sprawling country kitchen, loving this warm, beating heart of Snowberry Lodge.

With the scent of cinnamon, roasted turkey, and sweet sage still in the air and the delicate flavor of apple tarts lingering on her tongue, she felt comfortable and secure, and had no desire to take that same feeling away from her dear sister.

They’d both toddled across this wide-planked floor as children. They’d sat at the farmhouse table that their grandfather had made from pine trees that grew on this property. They learned how to cook and bake from their grandmother’s wisdom.

Well, MJ had learned how to cook and bake. Cindy had learned how to run a homey, welcoming, and profitable hospitality business.

Regardless of what they’d learned, every inch of Snowberry Lodge was home.

Yes, Cindy lived a few miles away in a townhouse now, but she spent the better part of every day here and frequently stayed overnight when the roads were impassible or the work demanded it.

Her sister did live here, in the owner’s suite off the kitchen. And their father, along with MJ’s daughter and grandson, lived at the edge of the property in a mountain home where three generations of Starlings had grown up.

The fact was, Cindy couldn’t imagine their family living, working, or gathering anywhere else. And neither could her sister and dearest friend, Mary Jane, known only as MJ since the day she was born.

Right now, MJ stood in front of a long copper sink, humming and wonderfully oblivious to the little bomb about to detonate in her beloved kingdom of cooking.

Not yet. Not yet.

As she dried, Cindy’s gaze moved to the frosted windows tucked between creamy beadboard cabinets, catching the glimmer of fat snowflakes falling on the pine trees and cabin rooftops.

In the fading evening glow, she could see the rugged terrain of the Wasatch Range in the background, the glorious mountain peaks shrouded in fog.

“Bet some lifts open early this year with this nice powder dump,” MJ said, jutting her chin toward the view as she followed Cindy’s gaze. “I predict opening day next week instead of early December. And that means an amazing ski season.”

Cindy agreed with a nod, looking down at the roasting pan she’d dried four times.

Amazing for who? The Grand Hyatt? All the glitzy new short-term rentals in the mountains, canyons, and all around Park City?

But for Snowberry Lodge? Not so amazing.

Since they were nearing the end of November, Cindy had made the mistake of digging deep into the books she kept as manager of this family-owned business. With their “high season” about to kick off, she hoped their December reservations were not quite as bad as she thought.

They weren’t bad—they were worse. That sure took the “thanks” out of Thanksgiving.

It had been a while since they could proudly proclaim “no vacancy” in the eight guest suites in this main lodge or the six cabins that dotted the property. Somehow, they got by.

The ski shop generated decent income through sales and rentals to guests and locals, but this once thriving mountain retreat was…not thriving.

She had to face the truth that she and MJ had hung onto Snowberry Lodge by the skin of their teeth these past few years. And that skin was wearing thin and about to bleed.

“That was an awful heavy sigh for Thanksgiving.” MJ eyed her over a large pot she held under the faucet. “Too many apple tarts or are you fretting about something I can talk you out of? ’Cause I will, you know.”

She’d certainly try. Her sister had never met a problem she couldn’t conquer with an attitude so positive it defied logic.

The fact was, Cindy was a doer, and her older sister was a dreamer. For their whole lives—fifty-nine years for Cindy and sixty-two for MJ—that combination had worked pretty well. But the thing they might have to “do” now could destroy MJ’s dreams.

And there was just no good way around it.

“Is there such a thing as too much of anything your daughter bakes?” Cindy asked with a laugh, aching to avoid the conversation and keep things light. “There’s a reason she gets a line out the door at Sugarfall.”

The compliment brought a glimmer of pride to MJ’s sky-blue eyes. She brushed back some hair that had escaped a messy bun, the light catching a few silver threads in the rich auburn.

Cindy expected a comment about her daughter’s bakery, but MJ narrowed her gaze to something sharp and questioning. “What is it?” she asked.

“What is…what?”

“Do you forget I can read you like a recipe?” MJ asked. “You’ve got something on your mind, Cin. Just spill it, okay? This is me. We don’t keep secrets.”

Cindy closed her eyes. “It’s no secret, really. You know the county changed the tax laws. You know we got reassessed. And you know the bill is due in January.”

“Wait. You haven’t made monthly payments all year long?” MJ asked.

She shook her head. “We’re so stretched, MJ.

Payroll, insurance, property management, supplies, and advertising, which we have to do to survive.

Everything is expensive. I figured we’d cover taxes with December’s profit, since we always have a banner month.

But have you looked at the reservations for the next five weeks? ”

“Oh, I don’t look at those,” MJ said with a flick of her sponge. “I plan the menu, get the place decorated, do the shopping, and make every guest feel like family. Oh, that reminds me! I totally forgot to tell you I took a reservation yesterday that you might not have seen.”

“The Walker family in Cabin Five? I saw it, counted it, and noticed they didn’t have an end date.”

“Actually, there’s no ‘they’ or ‘family,’ at least not as far as I can tell,” MJ said.

“I talked to the man, and he seemed to be coming alone. But, yes, open-ended and Cabin Five is our most expensive with an unobstructed mountain view. And he did not flinch at our full holiday rate, mind you. Just mentioned he’d pay cash, which I assume you’ll take. ”

“With open hands,” Cindy said, grabbing the glimmer of hope. But she couldn’t resist adding, “Can you get us about eight more just like that? Fill the cabins and every suite, every day from now until New Year’s Day?”

MJ looked at her, a frown pulling as she waited for Cindy to finish.

“And then we might have enough to pay the tax bill.” Cindy crinkled her nose. “Emphasis on might.”

MJ’s sweet features fell a little. “Can we talk about it later?” she asked. “Today is Thanksgiving and it’s been so nice.”

“Of course,” Cindy replied. “But we have to—”

“Why do you two always get stuck with cleanup?” Cindy’s daughter, Nicole, breezed into the kitchen holding some empty plates, her long dark ponytail swinging with every stride.

“Sorry! Gracie and I were caught up in a cousin convo, and I should have known…” Her voice trailed off as she looked from one to the other, letting out a sigh. “Mom. You weren’t going to mention it.”

No surprise, Nicole could read Cindy as well as MJ. Was she always that transparent or was this particular worry etched on her face?

“I coaxed it out of her,” MJ said, rising to Cindy’s defense, as she always did. “But now I’m trying to stuff it back like sage dressing in a bird’s backside.”

Cindy snorted softly.

“Your mother is telling me how lackluster December looks,” MJ continued. “I just know reservations will pick up. All over the place families are together right now, having a few drinks, deciding they all need to go to Park City for Christmas. And here we are, waiting with our doors open.”

Cindy gave her a dubious look. “We usually have those reservations booked by August or September.”

“Well, they’re late.” MJ waved her Scrub Daddy like it was a magician. “They shall come. You’ll see.”

Nicole’s espresso eyes clouded as she looked at Cindy. “I know you’re worried, Mom.”

Worried? She’d sailed past worried and slid into panic after looking at those numbers.

“Look, this is a big bill,” she said. “Bigger than ever.”

“And we have cash on hand,” MJ said with certainty.

“If we use it to pay this bill, we won’t have anything. No buffer. One leak, one drafty window, one problem and we can’t fix it. No ads or special promotions, which are our lifeblood. We’re down to the bone, and if we use that money for taxes? The bone’s gonna break.”

“How did this happen?” MJ asked, concern deepening a faint frown line between her eyes.

Cindy shrugged. “Taxes have gone sky high in Summit County, and we have a lot of premium real estate.”

“But we’re not building on it,” MJ said. “The lodge property is mostly woods and hills and slopes and trails. And a creek that’s either frozen or flooded.”

“That’s not how property assessors see it,” Cindy told her. “This problem is going to rise up to bite us every December because that bill isn’t going anywhere but higher year after year. It’s just prohibitively expensive to run a small, family-owned lodge in a resort town like Park City.”

MJ stared at her. “What are you saying, Cindy?”

“I’m saying…” She swallowed. “Maybe it would be in our best interest to think seriously about selling Snowberry Lodge.”

“What?” The question was fired by Gracie, MJ’s daughter, as she walked in and froze in shock.

MJ grabbed the edge of the counter and stared at Cindy. “You cannot be serious,” she managed to say, then pointed to the dining room behind Gracie. “Benny and Dad can’t hear this, can they? Dad would…” She grunted. “His heart couldn’t take it.”