Page 17 of Please Send Snow
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 thesymphony of worried noises. “Whatexactlydid 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.
