Page 45 of Please Send Snow
“Youalready ate?”Margo echoes, furious.
“What did you eat?” Bronson asks at the same time.
“Oh, we made mountain pies,” I say, smiling at the memory. “They’d never had them before, and?—”
“I was prepared to serve crown roast of pork, and you mademountain piesfor them?” Bronson thunders, his face turning red.
“Listen, Maddie,” Margo says, her voice cutting through Bronson’s diatribe and silencing all the chatter in the lobby. “You’re here for one reason, and that’s to help us save this place.”
I swallow, wondering if she’s going to kick me out.
“You have to do better,” she says, pressing her lips together.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Put your game face on tomorrow morning,” Margo says. “And make sure he stays for breakfast.”
I nod, uncertain what I’ll do if he shows up on thephone like usual, and just waves for me to hop in the SUV. But looking around at all the worried faces, I know I’ll figure it out. I have to. They’re all counting on me.
“Oh, are you having lobby charades?” a bright voice chimes.
I look over and see that Penelope has appeared at the front desk.
Her camera guy is following her every move.
“The staff is simply greeting Miss Foster,” Margo tells her, her smile looking a little pinched.
Bronson turns on his heel and heads back down the hall to the kitchen.
“Fine,” Penelope says. “The website says there’s a hot chocolate social every night. What’s that about?”
Margo starts to explain, and I decide to take advantage of the moment to slink back to the broom closet.
“Good night, Miss Foster,” Michael tells me kindly as I pass him. “Tomorrow will be a better day.”
His kindness puts a lump in my throat.
“Thanks,” I manage.
I can’t get back to the broom closet fast enough, but once I’m there I do take a moment to make sure the coast is clear before opening the door.
My bed has been made up nicely again, the lamp is on, and there’s a little foil-covered plate with a note on it.
Thank you for trying to save the lodge.
We know you cando it!
-Anna & Irina
I put my bags down, and lift up the plate.
Pulling back the foil, I find two of the soft, chewy gingerbread cookies the lodge is famous for. Anna must have saved them for me.
I already stuffed myself on mountain pies, but I can’t help taking a bite.
And I don’t regret it. The soft, spicy cookie melts on my tongue and I feel a wave of gratitude to these two women for encouraging me. I needed it tonight.
I know Anna is the kitchen helper. Irina must be on housekeeping because this bed is made so perfectly you could bounce a quarter on it.
