Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Romance,
Contemporary,
Love Stories,
Christmas stories,
Christian,
Fiction - Romance,
Romance - Contemporary,
Romance: Modern,
Women Judges,
Australian Novel And Short Story
Bar and Grill, nursing a beer, but he found it hard to join in the festivities. He’d woken at 3:00 a.m. in the grip of a nightmare about the avalanche. He’d felt moody and disoriented this morning. And he’d been afraid he might not be able to present SOB’s case in court today without having a panic attack.
He’d had several nightmares since the avalanche. Mind-numbing, limb-numbing, heart-palpitating episodes that left him in a cold sweat and wondering if he’d function like a normal human being ever again. He’d worked hard on maintaining the facade of being in control, when deep down he thought he’d go to pieces—thought he’d mess up and let everyone down. They all had such blind faith in him. They’d won today. But what about next week? Next month? Next year when the development company had triumphed and the buildings were completely razed and replaced by an ugly mall and hundreds of condos?
Snap out of it! he told himself and took a long draft of beer, then choked as he was slapped on the back for what seemed the thousandth time that day.
“You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet,” his brother Jack said. “What’s up?”
Will shook his head. “Nothing much.” He wasn’t ready to reveal his fears to Jack, but then he reconsidered. Jack was the least judgmental of his brothers and always willing to lend anear. He’d resigned from the priesthood a couple of years ago, giving little explanation to his family. He’d then trained as a carpenter and was developing a reputation for restoring Victorian homes. Jack worked long hours and, as far as Will was aware, hadn’t dated since moving back to Spruce Lake.
“I’m trying to figure out our next move,” Will said, pushing aside some tinsel that had fallen onto the bar. “I wish we had the funds to buy back the buildings.”
“Fat chance, even with Frank donating wads of money every day.”
That finally raised a smile from Will. Frank was making daily donations to the cause in order to see more of Mrs. C. She hadn’t forgiven him for “the Louella Incident” yet, but she did offer a smile of encouragement whenever he stuffed money into the donation tin on her counter. Which, of course, encouraged Frank to donate more. They were also now both signatories to the SOB fundraising account.
In Will’s opinion, it was only a matter of time until Mrs. C.’s heart thawed and she and Frank would be dating like teenagers again.
“Have you thought of having that ranch land of yours valued?” Jack asked. “You might be able to buy those buildings yourself.”
Will rubbed his chin. “Matt said the same thing. But I paid a pittance for it and can’t see how it could’ve increased all that much in value. You’re talking millions of dollars.”
“Anderson’s old ranch got carved up into ten-acre housing lots last year and sold like hotcakes. You should look into it. It’s a pretty valley. You might be surprised by what the land is worth—”
“Hey, Will!”
If Will had been standing, he would’ve been knocked flat by the force of Lloyd Wilmott’s beefy paw landing in the middle of his back. The director of the ski patrol was a bear of a man standing over six foot six and built like a refrigerator. In spite of his size, he was hell on skis.
“I hear you’re looking for a job. We need experienced people like you. Come and see me tomorrow.”
During college, Will had been a member of the ski patrol. However, the strict discipline hadn’t really worked for him.
He picked up a napkin to blot the sweat beading on his upper lip. This was exactly what he didn’t need. Someone pressuring him to go up the mountains. And save people. He cleared his throat before saying, “Thanks for the offer, Lloyd, but I’m kind of tied up with saving the buildings.”
Lloyd clapped him on the back again, nearly sending Will’s beer flying. “Good man. Anything the ski patrol can do to raise public awareness, just let me know, okay?”
“Thanks,
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