Chapter 19

19

JACE

J ace stood in the heart of the lodge’s firepit area with its enormous bonfire, the chill of the evening nipping at his exposed skin as he watched the townspeople bustling around with an intense focus that warmed him more than any coat could. He couldn’t believe they were all there for the lodge, his lodge. He supposed this was one of the differences between living in a small town in Vermont and a big city like Boston. He loved Boston, but he realized Christmas Valley had become home. The unwavering support of those around him was like a beacon in the frosty night. Amidst the crowd, Felicity was a constant presence, her belief in him a tangible thing that made him feel humble. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve her, but he thanked every power that was that he had been gifted her.

"Can you believe this?" she asked, as she sidled up to him, her eyes shining with something that looked like pride and perhaps something more—something neither had possessed the courage to say out loud.

Jace turned to meet her gaze, feeling an odd mix of vulnerability and strength. "I can't," he admitted. "It's...overwhelming."

"Good overwhelming, I hope." Felicity's smile was gentle, the corners of her mouth tipped with the satisfaction of shared effort.

"Absolutely," he murmured, though his mind was far from peaceful. The weight of Candace Prescott's shadow loomed over them, the balloon payment an unspoken dread between them.

"Jace?" The bank manager's voice cut through the chatter and laughter, a discordant note that had Jace's muscles tensing. "Can we talk?"

"Of course." Jace excused himself from Felicity's comforting presence and moved toward the bank manager, a leaden feeling settling in his stomach.

"Jace, it's about the lodge," the bank manager began, his face etched with concern. "Candace Prescott has bought your note. She's not the type to wait on her money."

"Damn her timing," Jace muttered. He felt the December cold seep into his bones. "What's her play?"

"She's pressing for a final settlement. If you can't make the balloon payment by New Year's Eve—one minute before midnight—you'll lose everything," he explained, each word a sledgehammer to Jace's hope.

"Midnight on New Year's Eve..." Jace's voice trailed off, his mind whirring with calculations and possibilities.

"Think about it, son." The bank manager clapped a hand on his shoulder, a gesture of sympathy that Jace hardly felt.

"Thanks for the information. I'll figure something out," Jace said, more to convince himself than to assuage the bank manager's worry.

As the bank manager walked away, Felicity approached again, her curious gaze searching his. "Bad news?"

Jace sighed, facing her. "Sapphire Development is trying to corner us. I have until the last minute of the year to come up with the payment, or I’ll lose the Northwind."

"Jace, we won't let that happen," Felicity said firmly, stepping closer. Her breath was warm against his cheek, and for a moment, he allowed himself to bask in the comfort she offered.

"Your faith in me," he started, his voice rough with emotion, "it means everything."

"Then lean on it, because I'm not going anywhere," she promised, her words wrapping around him like a blanket as she went to join the others.

In that moment, with the town's laughter echoing around him, Jace felt as if he might have to take the offer from the private vulture investors just to hold Prescott off. The battle for the Northwind Lodge wasn't just his fight—it was theirs, and he'd be damned if he let Candace Prescott steal their future without a war.

Jace stood back, watching as the throng of volunteers swarmed over the ski lodge like bees to a hive. The sound of hammering mingled with the cheerful calls of the townspeople who had shown up in droves to support the Northwind's revival. His gaze landed on Felicity, her sleeves rolled up as she handed out assignments with a clipboard in hand, her smile never wavering even as she worked.

"Jace, can you pair up some of your guys with the Hendersons?" Felicity called out, her voice cutting through the cacophony of construction. "They're ready to tackle the new reception area."

"Already on it," Jace replied, his voice laced with the husky timbre of a man both grateful and humbled. He whistled sharply, signaling two of his employees to join him by the burgeoning structure that would soon welcome guests with renewed warmth.

He couldn't help but be touched by the scene unfolding before him. Each volunteer brought not only their time but also their skills, and by matching them with his seasoned crew, progress multiplied exponentially. The air was electric with enthusiasm, every nail driven and board sawed infused with community spirit. If he could just get his hands on enough cash to pay off Sapphire Development, finish the renovation, and open the lodge, then all of this wouldn’t be for nothing. He was determined to throw a New Year’s Eve party for the whole town.

As he walked among the busy bodies, Jace noticed something else—piles of lumber, paint cans, and fixtures all donated by local businesses. It wasn't just labor; it was materials, too. The generosity of Christmas Valley astounded him.

"Look at this," said Tom, one of his workers, slapping Jace on the back and pointing toward a stack of shingles. "These should keep the snow out for a few more winters, huh?"

"Tom, I can't even begin to thank everyone who has pitched in," Jace responded, feeling the weight of each act of kindness pressing warmly against his chest. "This... all of this, it's more than I ever expected."

"Hey, this lodge means a lot to people—not just in terms of economics, either. There’s an awful lot of good memories tied up here. We’re all in this together," Tom reassured him, his own eyes reflecting the collective hope of the town. "Besides, when the Northwind prospers, so does everybody else."

Jace nodded, clapping Tom on the shoulder before moving on to check on another group of workers. With every step, he felt the intimate connection between the lodge and the people around him grow stronger, weaving a tapestry of shared memories, dreams, and aspirations.

Amidst the flurry of activity, Felicity caught his eye from across the room. They exchanged a knowing look—a silent conversation that spoke volumes of the unspoken bond that had formed between them. Why hadn’t he said out loud what he knew he felt?

As dusk began to settle, and the mountains cast long shadows over the valley, Jace couldn't shake the warm glow that filled him. Against all odds, they were turning the tide. And with every plank nailed and every brush stroke painted, they weren't just rebuilding a lodge—they were fortifying a love that was becoming as solid and enduring as the very foundation of the Northwind itself.

Jace watched as Felicity tied an apron around her waist, her movements deft and graceful amid the chaos of the bustling bakery. The smell of fresh-baked cookies wafted through the air, a homey scent that seemed to wrap around him like a warm embrace. Despite having been on her feet since dawn, there was no sign of weariness in her step as she filled tray after tray with delectable treats.

"Need a taste tester?" Jace teased, leaning against the doorway with arms folded across his chest.

Felicity glanced over her shoulder and flashed him a smile that could thaw the deepest winter freeze. "Depends on what it is you want to taste. These just came out of the oven; you’ll burn your tongue."

He accepted the challenge, kissing her deeply before plucking a chocolate chip cookie from the tray and blowing on it gently before taking a bite. The rich, gooey center was perfection itself, a testament to Felicity's culinary prowess.

"God, these are good—almost as good as you," he murmured, crumbs tumbling from his lips as she blushed. "You'll have everyone working double-time just for a taste—of the cookies, not you. That delectable treat I reserve only for myself."

"Then my mission is accomplished," she replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. There was something about the way her gaze lingered on him, full of warmth and unspoken promises, that made his heart race and his groin tighten. He couldn’t remember being this randy since he was a kid.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the village square, the sound of music and laughter began to fill the air. Lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, their glow illuminating faces flushed with excitement and anticipation.

Jace followed Felicity outside, helping her to carry her trays of treats. He stood amidst the crowd, watching as couples danced and children chased each other around stands laden with crafts, artisanal foods, and local produce. The benefit events had brought the community together in a way none could recall seeing before, infusing Christmas Valley with a vibrant energy that was infectious.

"Look at this place," Felicity said, coming to stand beside him with a tray of cupcakes in hand. "It's like the whole town has come back to life."

He nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene before him. The little shops that dotted the square were ablaze with light, their windows proudly displaying signs of increased sales and prosperity. It was clear that the impending revival of the Northwind Lodge had sparked something much bigger—a hope for the future that extended far beyond its walls.

"Thanks to you," Jace said, turning to face her. "You've given them something to believe in."

"Me?" Felicity's laugh was soft, self-deprecating. "I'm just the one with the sugar. You're the one with the vision."

"Then let's say it's a sweet collaboration," he suggested, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he stepped closer. The air between them crackled with electricity, charged with the potential of what lay unspoken.

"Best kind," Felicity agreed, her breath hitching slightly as she lifted her gaze to meet his.

In that moment, surrounded by the pulse of Christmas Valley's newfound heartbeat, Jace knew they were on the cusp of something extraordinary. And as he accepted a cupcake from Felicity's tray—her fingertips brushing against his—it wasn't just the sugar that sent a shiver down his spine, but the thrilling realization that they were creating more than just a legacy for the lodge.

They were weaving a tale of romance that was theirs alone to tell.

Jace inhaled deeply, the crisp mountain air mingling with the rich aromas of mulled wine and hot apple cider that seemed to permeate Christmas Valley. The once subdued village square now thrummed with life, a vibrant tapestry woven from the threads of laughter, music, and community spirit. Elders recounted tales by the fireside, children danced around the giant spruce twinkling with lights, and couples found warmth in each other's embrace against the winter chill.

"Can you believe this, Jace?" Felicity stood beside him, her cheeks rosy from the cold, eyes alight with wonder as she gazed at the scene before them.

"Believe it? I'm living it, thanks to this town—and to you," Jace replied, his tone warm with gratitude. He watched as she wrapped her hands around a steaming cup, the steam rising above the rim.

"Ah, but we all came together for the Northwind," she said. "It's like we've all been enchanted, dreaming the same dream."

"An enchantment," he mused, allowing himself to revel in the momentary peace, "fueled by shared passion and a dash of your treats, no doubt."

Felicity’s laugh tinkled through the air, harmonizing with the melodic strains of a violin nearby. For a moment, the weight of responsibility lifted from Jace's shoulders, carried away on the wings of camaraderie and collective endeavor.

But just as quickly as hope had soared, it plummeted when Elliott Snow approached, carrying news that chilled deeper than the winter frost. "Jace, I'm sorry to bring this up now, but I just heard something I think you need to know." Elliott's usual calm was tinged with an urgency he reserved only for gossip he thought he was the only one privy to.

"What’s up?" Jace frowned, the muscles in his jaw tensing, the knot of concern returning.

"People are talking at the bank. Candace Prescott," Elliott said, his voice low. "She's bought the note for the lodge. You could lose everything if you can’t pay her off."

Jace nodded, perversely pleased that this was news he already had. “I heard. She’s trying to force my hand and keep the bank from being able to do anything about it, but there’s no way I’m letting everything everybody has done go for naught. If I have to, I’ll make an interim deal with a group of vulture investors. Not ideal, but it’s not just me who will lose if Sapphire takes over.”

“Jace, I’d hate to see you have to do that.”

A heavy silence fell over the trio, the revelry around them suddenly distant. The threat loomed large, a specter threatening to extinguish the fiery determination they'd stoked within the community.

"It wouldn’t be my first choice, but there’s no way Prescott’s company is going to gobble up the lodge and then the town," Jace said after a long pause, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside. "No one said this was going to be easy, but I’ll be damned if I let this town or my uncle down. He left me the Northwind, and I intend to leave it to those who come after me."

Felicity nodded, her expression resolute. "There’s been a real awakening in this town," she said. "We can't let it slide back into oblivion. Not now."

"Absolutely not," he agreed. They stood united, bound by a shared vision for the future of Christmas Valley—a future they were determined to fight for.

As the evening drew on, the scent of spices and optimism still lingered, but beneath it all was the undercurrent of an impending battle. For Jace, the lodge was more than just timber and stone; it was a legacy bestowed on him by all those who had come before. It had and would be again a beacon of hope, a sanctuary for kindred spirits. And he would not surrender it without a fight.

The door to the bank manager's office swung open with a solemn creak, and Jace stepped inside, the weight of uncertainty heavy on his broad shoulders. His heart pounded against his ribs like a trapped bird, yearning for freedom from the cage of dread that encased it. His eyes, usually alight with mischief and adventure, now mirrored the storm clouds gathering over Christmas Valley.

"Jace," the bank manager began, shuffling papers on his desk as if they were shields against the discomfort of the conversation to come. "I wish I had better news, but Candace Prescott has been quite... insistent."

"Let's hear it," Jace said, his voice betraying none of the trepidation that sent a shiver up his spine. He stood tall, the muscles in his jaw working subtly as he braced for the impact of the manager's words.

"Her final offer," the manager pushed a document across the polished mahogany surface towards Jace, "is less than generous. She knows she’s got you up against the ropes. She wants the lodge, and she's not used to hearing people say no."

Jace's fingers brushed against the paper, the tangible proof of his impending loss sending a jolt through him. He leaned forward, scanning the numbers that seemed to dance mockingly before his eyes. The lodge was more than a business—it was where his heart had found solace, where his spirit had been reignited by the warmth of fireside gatherings and the laughter of newfound friends.

"Jace," the bank manager's tone softened ever so slightly, "I've seen you pour your heart and soul into that place. But if you can't make this balloon payment by the deadline, you'll lose everything. Perhaps it's time to consider selling."

“And the bank won’t change its mind?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“I’m afraid not. Jace, you need to consider accepting her offer.”

Jace looked at the piece of paper the manager slid over to him. “You’re right; I probably should.” The bank manager seemed to breathe a little easier. “But I’m not going to.” Jace picked up the offer and tore it in half once, and then a second time. “You tell Candace Prescott I told you where she could shove her offer.”

December thirty-first, one minute before midnight—the guillotine would be poised above his dreams, but he would be damned if he’d give Prescott the satisfaction of kneeling down and putting his head on the block.

He turned on his heel but stopped at the door. "I appreciate your concern," Jace said, his voice steadier now, the timber resonant with the beginnings of a plan yet unformed. "But I'm not one to back down without a fight."

The bank manager looked at him, perhaps seeing more than just the rugged charm and flannel-clad resilience. Maybe he saw the ember of a flame that refused to be snuffed out, the same ember that had warmed the hearts of the community rallying behind him.

"Very well," the manager replied, his own resignation clear. "You have until the last minute of the year. After that..."

"I know." Jace cut him off. The bank manager rose, every movement deliberate, signaling an end to their meeting.

Outside, the chill of the oncoming winter nipped at his skin, but Jace barely felt it. He was already thinking of strategies, of ways to keep the fire alive. Candace Prescott may have bought the note, but she hadn't yet snuffed out the spirit of Christmas Valley—or the man determined to save its beating heart.