Chapter 69
SYLVIE
The lodge felt exactly like it had five years ago during our peak busy season.
I couldn’t stop grinning as I watched the controlled chaos unfold around me.
Every single room was filled with guests who’d been snowed in by the storm.
Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the sudden influx, we were all energized in a way I hadn’t experienced in months.
Stacy and I were stationed behind the front desk, directing guests to their newly prepared rooms and explaining the amenities—where to find extra towels, how the vintage heating system worked, and which rooms had the best views of the Christmas light display outside.
It was a flashback to the old days when we would be so busy at the front desk we couldn’t even take time for lunch breaks. We would snack on whatever we could get our hands on in between check-ins.
“There’s complimentary coffee service starting at six a.m. in the main room,” Stacy was saying to a guest. “Though I should warn you, we might be making adjustments to the breakfast menu depending on what supplies we have on hand.”
It was organized chaos at its finest, and I was living for every minute of it.
Brom appeared, looking a little flustered but in a good way.
“I’ve got plans to cover breakfast for everyone,” he said.
“Mom is already prepping what she can tonight. I called in a favor with the bakery in town. They’ll deliver fresh pastries first thing in the morning, assuming the roads are clear enough. ”
“What about eggs? Bacon?” I asked.
“Already handled. We’ve got enough supplies to feed everyone a proper breakfast, plus there’s that emergency stash of frozen sausages Dad keeps in the deep freeze.
” Brom’s grin was infectious. “We’re going to pull this off, Sylvie.
We’re actually going to give all these people an incredible Christmas morning experience. ”
Looking around at the bustling lobby with guests chatting excitedly about their unexpected sleepover adventure, I couldn’t quite get my head around it.
My family was working together with the kind of seamless efficiency that came from years of practice.
It was just like it used to be. It was how Brom and I grew up.
At ten, we had learned how to turn over rooms. We knew how to read guests and who was going to be more of a challenge.
It was crazy, but I missed the days when we worked sun up to well past sundown to make sure guests were happy and comfortable.
With the announcement we were providing free rooms, it gave people the luxury of enjoying more food and drinks. I had raided the bar and brought out more bottles to keep everyone happy. No one was wasted, but there were certainly some lowered inhibitions.
It was fun.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.
The lodge was alive again. Really, truly alive in a way it hadn’t been since before our financial troubles started weighing everything down.
I spotted Mom and Dad near the fireplace, arms wrapped around each other as they watched on with expressions of pure joy. Dad’s face looked younger than it had in years, and Mom was practically glowing as she watched her family work together to create magic for a roomful of unexpected guests.
Unable to help myself, I abandoned my post at the front desk and made my way over to them, my vision blurring with happy tears.
“This is what it used to feel like,” Mom said softly when she saw me approaching, opening her arms to include me in their embrace. “Remember? When we were so busy we could barely keep up, but it felt like the best problem in the world to have?”
“I remember,” I whispered, letting myself be enveloped by their warmth. “I missed this so much.”
“Your mother and I, we were starting to think we’d never see the lodge like this again,” Dad said. His voice was filled with emotion. “It’s amazing to see the place full of life and laughter and people who genuinely want to be here.”
The three of us stood there for a moment, holding each other and watching our dream come back to life around us.
Guests were settling into armchairs with mugs of hot chocolate, children were playing card games on the floor near the Christmas tree, and the whole room buzzed with the kind of contented energy that comes from people who feel truly welcomed and cared for.
Like we were all extended family instead of neighbors.
“Group hug!” Brom’s voice came from behind us. Suddenly we were all laughing as he wrapped his long arms around our family huddle. “Are we having a moment? Because I want in on this.”
“We’re having a moment,” I confirmed, squeezing him tight.
“Good,” he said. “Because this is the best Christmas Eve we’ve had in years, and I want to remember every second of it.”
We broke apart reluctantly, all of us wiping at our eyes and grinning like fools, but there was still work to be done.
Being busy felt so right to us. It was like putting on a favorite sweater that had been stored away for too long.
Hospitality and hosting were in our blood.
We lived for moments like this, when we could provide exactly what people needed and watch their faces light up with gratitude and joy.
Throughout the evening, I kept catching glimpses of Kent moving through the crowd with his phone, snapping pictures and making notes. He wasn’t being obvious about it, but I could see him engaging guests in conversation, asking questions that seemed casual but somehow important.
“How long have you been coming to places like this?” I heard him ask one couple.
“What does it mean to you, having somewhere like this to celebrate holidays?” he said to another family.
I wondered what he was up to with all the documentation, but I was way too busy to stop and ask. Every time I thought I had a free moment, another guest needed something. Someone’s child required band-aids for imaginary injuries that needed immediate attention.
It wasn’t until well past one in the morning that everything finally wound down.
The last of the guests had made their way up to their rooms, armed with extra blankets and promises that breakfast would be ready by eight.
My family was still moving around the main room, tidying up and making sure everything was ready for tomorrow’s early morning rush.
Aspen and Alder had crashed on one of the sofas near the fireplace. They’d been running on pure Christmas excitement all day, and it had finally caught up with them.
“Come on, sleeping beauties,” Brom said softly, scooping up Alder while Stacy picked up Aspen. “Time to go home to your own beds.”
“This was perfect,” Stacy said with a tired smile. “Absolutely perfect. I haven’t seen the lodge feel this alive in… God, I can’t even remember how long.”
“Thank you for everything tonight,” I said, meaning it completely. “The food, the flexibility, staying late to help with all these extra guests. You’re amazing.”
After they left, the lodge settled into peaceful quiet. Mom and Dad headed home, Emmy disappeared with her dad, and suddenly it was just Kent and me in the main room, with only the dying fire and the twinkling Christmas tree for company.
I collapsed onto the sofa with a satisfied sigh, finally allowing myself to feel the exhaustion that had been building all day. But it was good exhaustion, from meaningful work well done.
Kent settled beside me, pulling me close so I could rest my head on his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Sylvie,” he said softly.
I snuggled deeper into his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent and marveling at how perfectly this day had turned out. “Merry Christmas,” I murmured back.
Kent reached into his pocket and pulled out something small, a tiny box wrapped with a delicate ribbon that caught the firelight.
“It’s not much,” he said, holding it out to me with an expression that was almost shy. “But I thought of you when I saw it. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be an absolute whirlwind, so I want to give this to you tonight.”
I took the box with hands that were suddenly shaking. The size and shape immediately made me nervous. It was jewelry-box-sized, which could mean anything from earrings to, well, to things I wasn’t sure I was ready to think about.
When I opened it, my breath caught in my throat.
It was a necklace, a delicate chain with the most spectacular diamond pendant I’d ever seen. Not huge or ostentatious, but perfectly cut and brilliant enough to catch every flicker of light from the fire. It was elegant and timeless and so beautiful.
“Kent,” I whispered. “This is too much.”
“It’s not nearly enough,” he said firmly, taking the necklace from the box with gentle hands. “May I?”
I nodded, lifting my hair so he could fasten the clasp at the back of my neck. His fingers brushed against my skin as he worked, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.
When he finished, I looked down at the pendant resting just above my heart, then up at Kent, who was watching me with an expression of such tender admiration that it made my breath catch.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, touching the diamond gently. “But I feel terrible. I don’t have anything for you.”
Kent’s smile was soft and full of love as he cupped my face in his hands. “Sylvie, you’ve already given me more gifts than I can count.”
“Like what?”
“Like this,” he said, gesturing around the peaceful lodge.
“Like your family accepting me. Like watching your face light up when you’re in your element, taking care of people and making them feel welcome.
Like the chance to be part of something real and meaningful instead of just profitable.
A home. Well, that’s something we’ll have to talk about later, but a home in all the ways that count. ”
He paused, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones.
“You gave me love when I didn’t even know I was looking for it. That’s worth more than anything money could buy.”
I kissed him. I let him feel all the love I felt for him. For the man who had turned my world upside down in the best possible way.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
He grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
We were both exhausted, and walking across the lot felt like it would take more energy than I had, but that was a good thing.