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 theWeasel’ 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—highceilings 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.