Sleigh Bells in the Snow

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have spent so much developing those fancy cabins and refurbishing the lodge. Did we need a spa? Did we need a pool? Did you need to employ an expensive French chef in the restaurant? Extravagance, all of it.” His grandfather was red in the face and Jackson rose to his feet, worry gnawing at his insides. He knew how much they were hurting. He also knew if they didn’t face up to what was happening soon, Snow Crystal Resort would be going under.

He wasn’t going to let that happen.

“I’m going to do what needs to be done. You’re going to have to trust me.”

“So now you’re an autocrat.” But his grandfather’s voice shook a little, and Jackson saw something in the old man’s eyes that nailed his feet to the floor.

This was the man who had taught him to whittle an arrow from a stick, to dam a stream and catch a fish with his bare hands. This man had picked him out of deep snow when he’d wiped out on his skis and taught him how to check the thickness of the ice on the pond so he didn’t fall through.

And this was the man who had lost his son.

Jackson sat back down in the chair. “I’m not an autocrat but I have to make changes. We’re operating in a stagnant economy. We have to stand out from the crowd. We have to offer something special.”

“Snow Crystal Resort is special.”

“It’s Snow Crystal Resort and Spa now, and for once we agree on something. It’s special.”

His grandfather’s eyes were suspiciously shiny. “So why change things?”

“Because people don’t know about it, Gramps. But they’re going to.” The puppy nuzzled his ankle, and Jackson leaned down and stroked the dog’s soft, springy fur. “I’m flying to New York tomorrow to meet with Kayla Green.”

“I still don’t get what a girl from Manhattan is going to know about running a resort like ours.”

“She’s not from Manhattan. She’s British.”

His mother brightened. “She’ll fall in love with the place. I did. From Old England to New England.”

Walter frowned. “You’ve lived here so long I don’t think of you as British. Hell, I bet this Kayla woman has never even seen a moose!”

“Does she need to see a moose to get the job done?” But an idea was forming in his head. Not a compromise exactly, but a solution that might work. “If I can persuade Kayla Green to come and experience firsthand exactly what we offer here at Snow Crystal, will you listen to her?”

“That depends. She’s not going to see much in a couple of hours, is she?”

Jackson stood up. “She can stay for a week. God knows, we’ve got enough empty cabins.”

“No way is Miss New York or Miss London or wherever the hell she’s from, going to want to stay in the wilds with us for a week in the middle of a Vermont winter.”

Deep down, Jackson agreed with him but he wasn’t about to admit defeat.

“I’ll get her here and you’ll listen.”

“I’ll listen if she says something worth listening to.”

“Deal.” He shrugged on his jacket while his mother looked on anxiously.

“Stay and eat. You’ve been working so hard I’ll bet you haven’t gone near the shops.”

“He shouldn’t have moved out.” His grandfather clicked his fingers to attract the attention of the puppy. “He shouldn’t have spent all that money converting that crumbling old barn into a fancy place of his own when we have all these empty rooms.”

“I’ve trebled the value of that crumbling old barn.” And saved his sanity. Jackson slipped his tablet computer into his bag and thought it might as well have been made of gingerbread for all the use it had been to him. “No food, thanks. I need to put together some figures for the people at Innovation. I’ll do my own thing tonight.”

“You always do,” his grandfather muttered, and Jackson shook his head in exasperation and walked out of the warm, cozy kitchen into the freezing winter air.

His boots crunched through the thick snow and he stopped, breathing in the peace and quiet along with the smell of wood smoke.

Home.

Sometimes suffocating, sometimes comforting. He’d avoided it, he realized. Stayed away longer than he should because at times there had been more suffocation than comfort.

He’d left the place behind at eighteen, fueled by a determination to prove himself. Why stay trapped in Snow Crystal when the whole world was out there beckoning him toward possibilities and opportunities? He’d been caught up in the excitement, the thrill of making something new, something that was his. He’d been riding the wave until that phone call. It had come in the night, like all the worst phone calls and had changed his life forever.

Where would he be now if his father hadn’t died? Expanding his business in Europe? On a hot date with a woman?

Raising hell like his brother?

There was a whimper and he looked down to see the puppy by his ankles, snow clinging to her fur and mischief in her eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be out here.” Jackson stooped and lifted her, feeling the tremble of her body through her springy fur. She was small and delicate, a miniature toy poodle with the heart of a lion. He remembered the day he and Tyler had found her abandoned and half-dead in the forest, a scrap of fur, barely alive. They’d brought her home and coaxed her back to life. “I bet there are days when you wish you hadn’t joined our family.”

His mother appeared in the doorway, relief on her face as she saw the puppy. “She followed you.” She took the puppy from him and gathered her close, stroking and kissing, pouring all her love onto the delighted puppy while Jackson watched, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

“Mom—”

“He needs you, Jackson. Sooner or later he’ll realize that. Your father made mistakes, but your grandfather can’t cope with thinking about that right now. He doesn’t need Michael’s memory tarnished.”

And neither did she. The shadows in her eyes told him that.

Knowing how much she’d loved his father, Jackson felt the tension increase across his shoulders. “I’m trying to get the job done without hurting him.”

She hesitated. “You’re probably wondering why you came back.”

“I’m not wondering that.”

Somehow, he had to find a way of making something that was his out of something that was theirs and making his grandfather feel as if the whole thing was his idea.

He had to save what they’d built.

Kayla Green might have worked with some of the toughest and most successful companies in her career, but nothing, nothing, was going to come close to the challenge of dealing with the O’Neil family.

He hoped she liked gingerbread Santas.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_179bbe3b-4024-5c0c-9d05-f02fa51341fd)

“ANGIE CALLED FROM the Washington Post. I told her you’d call her back. And I finished that media list.” Stacy leaned across the desk and Kayla was nearly asphyxiated.

“Er—nice perfume.” Her hand wrapped around the tall cappuccino she’d picked up on her way into the office. She unwrapped her cashmere scarf and dropped it over her chair, sending snowflakes floating across her desk. “It’s freezing out there. If I’d known New York was this cold in winter I would have requested the L.A. office.” Snatching a sip of coffee, she toed off the boots she’d worn to walk the short distance from her apartment and dragged her shoes from the drawer in her desk.

Through the glass wall that cut her off from the rest of the fortieth floor, she could see two of the junior account executives discreetly replenishing makeup. “What’s going on? Brett will hit the roof if he walks past and sees lip gloss and girl bonding.”