Chapter 5 Maddie
MADDIE
Panic has my heart thundering as I jog down the steep mountain road toward the lodge as fast as I dare.
It’s getting super dark out and my thighs are burning from going down such a steep hill. I’m really hoping I don’t slide to my death on the muddy, leaf-covered shoulder of the road.
But my mind is too focused on other things to really care. I can’t believe what I just heard. But something in my gut tells me that it’s true.
And if it’s true, my dreams of coming back to Angel Valley Lodge are over before they even got started.
By the time I make it back down the mountain to the lodge, I’m somehow shivering and sweating at the same time, my legs are jelly, my cheeks are windburned, and I’m really wishing I had some boots instead of these old sneakers.
But the good news is that according to the time on my phone I’m not too late to make the evening staff meeting.
I burst into the back door that has the Staff Only sign and find myself blinking in the bright warmth of the kitchen. But for some reason, everything is quiet.
When my eyes adjust, I see that it’s only quiet because everyone is staring at me.
Michael is there and so are Bronson and the kitchen helper, who must be Anna. Margo from the front desk and a crew of others I don’t know are gathered as well.
“Miss Foster,” Michael says stepping forward, his eyes widening. “Is everything all right?”
It is only in this moment that I realize that I have something very important to say and I’ve given absolutely no thought as to how I’m going to say it. But based on the look on Margo’s face, I’d better talk fast before I get thrown out.
“He… he’s going to tear it down,” I pant, placing a hand on the counter.
“Get your sweaty paws off my stainless steel,” Bronson trumpets.
“Who’s going to tear what down?” Michael asks as I snatch my hand back like I just touched a hot stove.
“Jake,” I say. “Mr. Stone, the new owner, he’s going to tear the lodge down to build more chalets.”
There’s a moment of silence before everyone starts talking at once.
“Nonsense,” Bronson says firmly.
“He can’t,” Anna murmurs.
“Where are we supposed to go?” one of the ladies in a housekeeping uniform asks another.
“Stop,” Margo says sharply, putting an end to the symphony of worried noises. “What exactly did you hear, Miss…?”
“Miss Maddie Foster,” Michael supplies quietly.
“What exactly did you hear, Maddie?” Margo asks.
“Mr. Stone hired me to babysit his son,” I tell her. “And while I was there I heard him on the phone. He said the trees were going to be a problem, that they would make construction tough.”
“Well, construction just means he’s adding to the lodge,” Margo says with a smug smile. “We anticipated improvements.”
Bronson nods importantly to himself and sounds of relief roll through the kitchen.
“He also said the town was sentimental,” I go on. “He said they won’t like that he wants to do a teardown.”
That has Margo’s carefully shaped eyebrows reaching for her hairline.
“He could be talking about another project,” Bronson ventures, with less certainty this time. “A man of his means is bound to have more than one iron in the fire.”
That’s true. Maybe it really wasn’t about the lodge. Maybe I got all worked up over nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Then another snippet of the conversation hits me.
“He said the Angel Mountain council will be stingy with permits,” I remember out loud. “And he said that it’s Christmas, so where’s the snow?”
I guess that last bit isn’t really important, but my mouth is sort of working on its own at this point.
Margo turns to Michael, who shrugs, the expression in his blue eyes so sad.
My heart feels like it’s going to break just thinking about losing this place. The lodge is my last refuge, my one happy place. It can’t cease to exist, it just can’t.
“Why would he do this?” Bronson demands.
“This place is too old-fashioned,” Margo says simply. “It’s too rustic for these new city people. We already knew that, didn’t we? Have you ever seen one of those chalet people even set foot in the lodge?”
“We have our traditions,” Michael says softly. “It’s hard to change everything at once.”
“Even the building is old,” Bronson says dismissively. “We can’t make an old building new again.”
“Mr. Stone could renovate instead of tearing the place down,” I suggest. “Make improvements, like you said.”
“The population on the mountain is changing,” Margo sniffs. “He would make more money by putting more chalets here. It would only be worth having a resort if he thinks it could serve the kind of high-end clientele that’s already taking over the mountain.”
“Why can’t we?” one of the housekeepers asks.
“We would need better food, better linens, better staff,” Bronson says dismissively. “It can’t be done.”
Unhappy noises break out across the kitchen as the truth of the situation starts to sink in.
“Sorry, Miss Foster,” Margo says suddenly. “But this area is staff only. You can’t be back here.”
“I want to help,” I tell her.
“You’ve done enough,” she tells me, her tone condescending. “Get her out of here, Michael.”
Michael hurries over, his expression so sorrowful that I can’t find it in myself to argue.
And besides, why bother? It’s obviously a lost cause.
But in spite of having surrendered meekly to everything that’s happened to me personally this year, something about this situation has me feeling ready to stand and fight.
“Come along, Miss Foster,” Michael says gently. “Let’s get you to your room.”
I allow myself to be led down the hallway, back to the broom closet.
“I thought I had to be out tonight,” I whisper.
“Everyone is too distracted right now to notice,” he tells me. “And once they get their heads around it, they’ll realize it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“What will you do, Michael?” I ask, turning to him.
“I’ll do whatever I have to,” he tells me calmly. “Just like I always have. Nothing in this life is promised, Miss Foster. I think you know that better than most.”
He’s not wrong there.
“Maybe Mr. Stone will help you with a room to rent,” he suggests. “It’s lovely that you found a job after all.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, so happy to see his blue eyes crinkling in a smile that I don’t bother to tell him that I somehow didn’t bother to negotiate any pay. Or that I ran off too quickly today to even open the discussion.
The truth is that I might just be fired before I’m even officially hired.
And how long could the job have lasted anyway?
As soon as he’s done tearing down the lodge, Jake Stone will just move on to ruining lives somewhere else.