Chapter 2

2

JACE

B oston, Massachusetts

The lawyer’s office in downtown Boston smelled of leather-bound books and freshly polished wood, the kind of space designed to make clients feel important and just a little bit intimidated. Jace Winterborne leaned back in the oversized leather chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded across his chest. Despite the lawyer’s polished words and sympathetic tone, Jace still felt like he’d been sucker-punched.

“So,” Jace said slowly, rubbing a hand across the stubble on his jaw, “just to be clear... my uncle—the one I haven’t seen since I was a kid—left me the family ski lodge?”

The lawyer, an older man with graying hair and gold-rimmed glasses, gave a polite smile. “Yes. The Northwind Lodge in Christmas Valley, Vermont. Your uncle, Peter Dalton, passed away last month. He listed you as his sole beneficiary.”

Jace nodded, trying to process the information. His mother’s brother. Uncle Peter. A man Jace remembered only in fleeting images—like the warm scent of pine and the sound of boots crunching through snow. There had been visits to Vermont when Jace was little, but the family had drifted apart over the years. His parents had moved to Boston, life had gotten busy, and those visits to Christmas Valley had become nothing more than memories tucked into the back of his mind.

“Why me?” Jace asked, more to himself than to the lawyer. He couldn’t imagine why Uncle Peter would leave the ski lodge to someone he hadn’t seen in over two decades.

The lawyer cleared his throat. “From what I understand, your uncle was rather reclusive in his later years. He never married, had no children. And, well, I suppose he thought you might appreciate the opportunity.”

Opportunity. The word echoed in Jace’s mind. He leaned forward, his interest piqued in a way he hadn’t expected.

Ever since his engagement had blown up—spectacularly, at that—he’d been in a rut. He was subletting a friend’s place in South Boston and moving through life in a kind of fog, too burned out to commit to anything or anyone other than his job as a chef de cuisine at a Michelin-starred restaurant. He hadn’t even bothered to unpack. But this? The idea of escaping the city, starting over in the quiet, snow-covered hills of Vermont... It stirred something in him.

“I’ve got to admit,” Jace said, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, “this might be exactly what I need.”

The lawyer nodded with approval, shuffling the paperwork neatly into a folder. “Of course, there are some financial concerns,” he added. “The lodge has been struggling for the past few years—declining tourism, maintenance issues, that sort of thing. I know your Uncle Peter had received a generous offer from a resort developer, but he was hoping to keep the lodge in the family. If you’re up for the challenge...”

If I’m up for the challenge? Jace rolled the words over in his mind. A grin slowly spread across his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tackled a really good challenge. Maybe it was just what he needed.

“Sounds like fun,” he said, standing and extending his hand to the lawyer. “Let’s do it.”

Jace’s mood remained light as he drove back to the South Boston apartment to finish packing. The thought of Christmas Valley—snow-covered mountains, crisp air, and the crackle of a fire—was enough to lift his spirits in a way they hadn’t been for quite some time. He needed this. A fresh start. Something outside of Boston, where every street corner held a reminder of his ex-fiancée.

The apartment was empty when Jace stepped inside, the faint smell of old pizza lingering from the night before. Boxes were stacked by the door, most of his things already packed. He grabbed his duffle bag off the couch and made his way toward the small bedroom, where the last few items waited.

It didn’t take long to throw the remainder of his clothes into a suitcase, but when he reached for the nightstand drawer, something gave him pause. A framed photo stared up at him—his ex-fiancée, Heather, beaming as if she hadn’t shattered his heart six months ago.

Jace clenched his jaw. Just looking at her made his stomach twist. Heather, with her perfect smile and bright eyes. Heather, who had promised him forever and then cheated on him with her boss.

The photo frame felt heavy in his hands as the memories—good and bad—rushed through his mind—confronting her, the excuses, the anger. But now, all that remained was a hollow sense of relief that it was over. He was better off without her. He knew that. Still, it didn’t make the betrayal sting any less. And Brad, her boss? What the hell was up with that? Surely if she was going to cheat, she could have done something better and less of a cliché.

“Good riddance,” he muttered under his breath, chucking the photo into the trash without another thought. He slammed the duffle shut, zipped it with finality, and tossed it onto the bed.

A fresh start. That’s what Christmas Valley could be. No ghosts from the past. No cheating exes. Just snow and mountains. Maybe there he would find something worth holding on to.

Down on the street, Jace loaded his boxes and tossed his duffle into the back of his Range Rover and slammed the tailgate shut. The December air nipped at his skin, sharp and bracing, but it felt good. A new beginning was just hours away, waiting in Vermont.

As he climbed into the driver’s seat, a wave of bittersweet nostalgia hit him. He hadn’t thought about Uncle Peter in years, but now, memories of those childhood winters flooded back—learning to ski for the first time, hot chocolate by the fire, and his uncle’s booming laugh echoing through the lodge.

It felt right going back, like coming full circle.

The engine roared to life, and as Jace pulled away from the curb, he couldn’t help but think about how much his life had changed over the past year.

A flash of memory tugged at him—a scene from the restaurant he’d walked away from. The kitchen had been chaos that night, the air thick with the scent of searing steak and the sharp bite of lemon zest. Jace had been the chef de cuisine at one of Boston’s top restaurants, his name whispered with admiration in food critic circles.

But it had come at a cost. Long hours, sleepless nights, and a fiancée who had grown tired of waiting for him to come home. Heather’s affair had been the final straw—not just for their relationship but for his career, too.

He could still remember the moment he had taken off his apron, handed it to the sous chef, and walked out of the restaurant for good. The weight of that decision had been crushing, but also liberating. He was done chasing Michelin stars. Done sacrificing himself for a dream that had turned into a nightmare.

And now? Now, he had a chance to build something of his own.

The snow-dusted highways stretched out before him, and with every mile he put between himself and Boston, Jace felt lighter. Christmas Valley was waiting and so was the next chapter in his life.

The drive to Christmas Valley took longer than Jace had expected, the winding backroads blanketed with fresh snow slowing his progress. The further he traveled from Boston, the more the city melted away from his mind, replaced by the crisp stillness of winter landscapes—rolling hills covered in white, pine forests stretching along the highway, and the occasional frozen stream glinting beneath the weak afternoon sun.

Christmas Valley, Vermont

By the time Jace pulled into the small, picturesque town of Christmas Valley, the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting the streets in a warm glow. Wreaths and twinkling lights adorned every storefront, and garlands wrapped the lamp posts. Despite himself, Jace felt the flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

He parked outside the estate agent’s office just before the close of business, stepping out into the cold. Bells jingled overhead as he pushed the door open, and a middle-aged woman with rosy cheeks and a bright smile looked up from behind the counter.

“You must be Mr. Winterborne,” she said, rising from her chair.

“Guilty as charged,” Jace said, offering a polite smile.

The woman introduced herself as Suzy, and after a few minutes of paperwork, she handed him a heavy keyring, the brass keys jingling softly.

“There you go,” she said warmly. “The Northwind Lodge is all yours. It’s just up the road—won’t take you more than five minutes to get there—and the turnoff is well marked.”

Jace nodded, slipping the keys into his pocket.

Suzy gave him an encouraging smile. “Your uncle loved that place, you know, and was well liked here in town. There wasn’t a dry eye at the funeral, although the Reverend March wasn’t thrilled with his choice of music.”

“Why?”

Suzy grinned at him. “Apparently he paid Fred to play ‘ Pop Goes the Weasel’ after each hymn. By the third time, everybody was all but jumping out of their seats.” She laughed, and Jace grinned. “It was just the kind of thing your uncle would have gotten a kick out of. He had a fine sendoff after at the local watering hole, the Silver Bells Tavern. People ate, drank, and shared memories of your uncle. He’d have liked that, too.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Well, I don’t want to keep you, but I went up earlier today and turned up the heat. We made sure it was set high enough to keep the pipes from freezing, but I thought you might like it a little warmer than that.”

“Thanks,” Jace replied. The keys felt substantial in his hands, but not heavy at all.

He stepped back out into the cold, climbed into his Range Rover, and followed Suzy’s directions through the snow-dusted streets. As he drove, he realized he hadn’t needed them. It was as if the way home had been ingrained in his memories.

The Northwind Lodge stood proudly at the edge of town, its wooden exterior blending in with its natural surroundings. The towering evergreens provided a sense of protection and seclusion, while the gently sloping hills added to the lodge's charm. A thick layer of snow covered the roof and grounds, giving the old, rustic building a soft, wintry appearance. However, upon closer inspection, one could see chipped paint and sagging shutters that spoke of years of neglect.

Jace carefully climbed the creaking wooden steps to the front door, his breath visible in the chilly air. The metal keys suddenly felt cold and heavy in his hand, and he hesitated for a moment before inserting them into the lock and turning it. With a loud click, the door swung open to reveal the inside of the lodge, which was just as charming and rustic as its exterior suggested. The warm glow from the fireplace danced across the walls, and Jace couldn't help but smile as he stepped inside, feeling like he was entering a peaceful winter retreat

The lodge smelled exactly as he remembered: pine, old wood, and the faintest trace of wood smoke. The scent hit him like a wave, stirring long-buried memories of snowball fights, laughter, and warm fires crackling in the hearth.

He stood in the entryway for a moment, letting nostalgia wash over him. The air inside was cool, with only a minimal amount of chill improved by the place’s antiquated central heating, and the silence of the empty lodge was profound.

Jace made his way through the building, flicking on lights as he went. The lodge was bigger than he remembered—high ceilings with wooden beams, stone fireplaces in every room, and large windows that overlooked the snow-covered grounds. But it was also clear that the place had seen better days.

In the great room, Jace stood by one of the large windows, watching fat snowflakes drift lazily from an ever-darkening sky. The world outside looked peaceful, serene even, but inside, the old lodge creaked and groaned, the sound echoing his inner turmoil.

He pressed a hand to the cool glass, his breath fogging the window as he stared out at the snow-dusted slopes. He could see kids sledding on a nearby hill, their laughter carried faintly on the wind, and for a brief moment, Jace felt a strange sense of belonging.

But that feeling was quickly chased away by the daunting reality before him. Maybe he had been too quick to dismiss the offer from the resort developer, Candace something or other. The lodge was his now, and it was a mess—years of neglect, dwindling visitors, and a mountain of repairs waiting to be tackled. Reviving the business would take everything he had, and maybe more.

Jace let out a slow breath, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders like the falling snow outside. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

He knew how to run a kitchen, how to plan menus, and how to lead a team, but this... This was something entirely different. Managing a ski lodge, fixing a crumbling building, attracting tourists—he was flying blind. He shook his head, dispelling the negative thoughts that threatened the peace of mind he’d found driving up here. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. Hadn’t he told himself he needed a challenge and a fresh start? The Northwind Lodge certainly offered him both.

The remembered scent of pine and wood smoke seemed to wrap around him, bringing him back to those childhood winters with his uncle. There had been magic here once—he could feel it, even now. Maybe it was up to him to find that magic again.

Jace ran a hand through his hair, his breath fogging the window once more. The snow continued to fall, blanketing the town and the lodge in white. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew he had no place in the past. Ready or not, Christmas Valley, here I come .