Lakeshore Chronicles [10] Candlelight Christmas by Susan Wiggs Page B

Austrian-style chalet, set squarely in the middle of everything. Five chairlifts radiated up the mountain in different directions.
    Some of Logan’s best memories with Charlie had been made right here on the mountain. They came here together every year, reveling in the snow and the scenery, savoring the rush of speed as they rode down the mountain on their snowboards. It was the one time Logan could simply be with his kid and escape everything else—the tedium of running his firm, a marriage that wasn’t working, the everyday challenges of parenthood.
    “It’s a diamond in the rough,” said Logan.
    “Emphasis on rough,” said Al, shading his eyes and checking out the old lodge.
    “It’s got the second-highest vertical drop in the state,” said Logan. “Three thousand three hundred feet.”
    “Could be this is one of those ideas that’s just crazy enough to work,” said Adam, never one to hold back his opinion.
    “How’s that?” Logan’s father’s scowl darkened.
    Logan used to be afraid of that scowl. Not anymore. “The idea’s not crazy at all. This resort is just a few hours from the city. The financials are going to be a challenge, but I can make it work.” Looking out over the vast property, he could picture a vibrant family place, alive with skiers and snowboarders in winter, mountain bikers, hikers and climbers in summer. With or without his father’s approval, he’d find a way to bring his vision to life.
    “Why this?” Al demanded. “Why now?”
    “This place means something to me. It’s unique in the world, and I know exactly what I want to do. I practically raise Charlie here in the winter.”
    “I didn’t know you were so keen on skiing,” said Al.
    You wouldn’t, thought Logan. As a kid, when he wasn’t playing soccer, Logan had barely been a blip on his father’s radar. “I used to come up here with friends all through school,” he reminded him. “I learned to snowboard on this hill when I was younger than Charlie.”
    In high school, his knee injury from soccer had sidelined Logan from everything—except partying and painkillers. That had been the start of a crazy, headlong descent down the wrong path. Then the reality that he’d gotten a girl pregnant had smacked him sober, and he’d put his life back together again. The knee had taken longer to heal, and sometimes still ached, but nothing could keep him from doing sports with his son. He never wanted to be a sideline dad. He wanted to be right in it with Charlie.
    He and Karsten led the tour through the hotel, showing off its signature rooms with their tree branch bed frames and birch-clad furnishings. There was a spa at one end of the complex, an oddly appealing combination of Nordic traditions and Asian innovations. It looked like a hunting lodge with gongs in place of the trophy heads.
    The bar was called the Powder Room and featured furniture and fixtures made from recycled chairlift parts, the walls decorated with vintage wooden skis. The restaurant offered the kind of food you wanted to stuff yourself with after a day on the slopes—mac and cheese, chili, poutine, hot chocolate.
    Logan went out on the deck of the restaurant, which faced an expansive view of the slopes. His father came out with him. “This would be a perfect spot to build the zip line course,” Logan said. “It would be a big draw in summer and winter both.”
    “You’re determined to do this,” said Al.
    “Correction. I am doing it.”
    “Son, I applaud your sense of enterprise. The business plan you drew up is an impressive piece of work. But the fact is, resorts are notoriously risky. You’re choosing a hard path.”
    “If it was easy, everyone would do it.”
    “I just don’t understand,” his father said. “You’ve built a rock-solid business in town. You’re doing well in the insurance field—”
    “Underwriting other people’s risks while taking none of my own,” said Logan.
    “And it’s worked out well for you,” his