Page 77 of Please Send Snow
Ever since they cleared the roads after the big storm I’ve been staying in my apartment at the factory, but spending most days at the lodge and the chalet.
I got to the lodge super early this morning and just a few minutes ago, as the sun was starting to rise, I finished my book.
I have no idea what will happen with it. Maybe no one will ever read it but me. But it feels incredible to have completed something I dreamed of for so long.
And I’ve already got other ideas fighting for space in my imagination, all of them eager to get onto the page. So if this book doesn’t make it to print maybe another one will.
I close my laptop and slip it into my bag and then head back to the kitchen to see how Bronson is holding up.
Between the responsibility of making our wedding cake and the glory of knowing that Jake is about to build him a brand-new kitchen, this has been a very emotional time for our favorite chef.
During the snowstorm, the lodge staff and guests aswell as the chalet owners and the workers all basically had a giant two-day slumber party in the lobby. And hearing the new residents of the mountainside talk about how overrated working from home was and how lonely they all felt gave Jake an idea.
He’s having a giant kitchen addition built on the back of the lodge. And the current kitchen space is being converted into a “shared workspace” with a small café, where the new chalet neighbors can come to work and hang out.
If anyone understands feelings of isolation, it’s Jake Stone. It seems like planning the new workspace has been healing for him. He’s visibly happy every time he talks about it.
And Bronson is delighted because he’s getting an incredible new coffee station with all the latest European equipment and he gets to hire a new barista employee, whose whole job will be to help Bronson serve the workspace café guests.
“Maddie!” the chef exclaims when I appear in the doorway. “Don’t hover. Come and see your cake.”
He leads me back to the big fridge, where he’s removed several shelves to fit the cake. It’s absolutely enormous—seven tiers covered top to bottom in buttercream roses. Dylan is going to be in heaven. It’s even bigger than the ones in his drawings.
“What do you think?” Bronson asks, his usual confidence gone from his voice.
“It’s atriumph,” I tell him. “Is it wrong that I don’t want anyone to cut it up or eat it?”
Bronson laughs. I think it’s the first time I’ve everheard that. It’s such a funny, happy sound, in no small part because it surprises us both.
“You’ll want to cut it up and eat it,” he says. “Believe me. There’s a raspberry jam infusion in there, just like you asked.”
“Jake will love it,” I say, smiling as I think of him eating that raspberry jam mountain pie by the fire what feels like a million years ago.
“Michael was looking for you earlier,” Bronson tells me.
“Oh, I’ll go find him,” I say. “Thank you again. It’s just magnificent.”
“Would you mind if I sent a video to Penelope?” he asks as I’m leaving.
“Not at all,” I tell him. “Great thinking.”
Amazingly, the influencer who was snowed in here made a handful of videos during the storm that ended up going pretty viral. I think she might be singlehandedly responsible for us filling the rooms for the rest of the winter. Tons of people saw the good old-fashioned fun we were all having eating grilled cheese and playing board games by the fire and wanted to be a part of it.
When I arrive in the lobby again, Michael is already waiting for me.
“Maddie,” he says with a warm smile. “I have a question for you.”
“Sure,” I reply.
Michael has a spring in his step lately, because one of the young gardeners has been promoted to bellhop, which means he’s a doorman once again, and able tofocus on greeting and serving the guests the way he loves to do.
He leads me over to the fireplace to give us some privacy from Margo and the lady from the flower shop in town, who is here with a delivery for the ceremony.
“If you wanted,” Michael says carefully, “it would be my honor to give you away today.”
My heart wrenches in my chest and it takes everything I have not to just start sobbing.
“I understand that I can’t replace your father,” he says quickly, misinterpreting the look on my face. “And besides, I know young ladies your age probably don’t like to think of themselves as being given away anyhow…”
