Chapter Text
This is not good.
Ginny drives slowly, taking extra care in her small car as she makes her way through a blizzard. An honest to God blizzard. Weather like this makes her miss North Carolina. Weather like this makes her think she should have stayed in Texas or taken that job in San Diego. She’s just not built for the cold.
But, when she interned in New York, met Trevor Davis and fell in love, heading back south didn’t even seem like an option. 6 months in and she felt like a normal person for the first time in forever. Decent enough job, tiny apartment, good partner.
Maybe that’s why she’s risking her life driving through this disaster, because good girlfriends make insane trips to meet their boyfriend’s parents. Never mind her unease at driving, mind always flitting back to the car accident when she was 17. One minute her dad was sitting in the driver’s seat next to her, the next he wasn’t. Bad weather always made her grip the steering wheel that much harder, breathe that much shakier.
The snow is falling in big, heavy flakes, the sun having set over an hour ago. She just wants to make it out of the wilderness. She wants to know that if she skids off the road, she won’t freeze to death waiting for help to arrive. Not like there’s reliable cell service out here.
Ahead, she can see the chasing red and blue lights of a police cruiser and her heart seizes. An accident? Ginny shakes off the chill racing up her spine and increases the heat. In her headlights, beyond the insanely fluffy snowflakes, a cop car is blocking off the road.
She pulls up slowly, rolling down her window as the offier approaches. He’s an older man, probably close to retirement, his slight waddle not something she’s expect from a police officer. “Luongo” is etched across his name plate.
“Evening ma’am. Hell of a night for a drive.” His kind voice soothes her rattled nerves slightly as her fingers loosen on the wheel.
“I think I’ve got another 20 miles to go?” her tone lifts, unsure of her own estimate. She hopes she’s only 20 miles out.
“Well, I’m afraid you won’t be finishing your journey tonight. The road is officially closed, snow drifts up to my bad knees. No way your Civic makes it through.”
Ginny’s head snaps back, looking at the way she came. Snow is quickly accumulating on the road and the idea of turning back is terrifying.
“Will I be able to make it back to civilization?” she asks, trying to sound a hell of a lot calmer than she actually feels. The last thing she needs to deal with is an anxiety attack.
The officer smiles warmly at her. “About five miles back, you’ll see a sign for Lawson’s Lodge. You’ll be able to ride the storm out there.”
Five miles. She can do five miles. She thanks the man before carefully turning on the road, sending a prayer to anyone listening that she doesn’t get stuck and she doesn’t crash. It’s just five miles.
The sign is homemade, nearly invisible in the driving snow. Thankfully, she spots it and pulls down the plowed driveway. The lodge looks like something off of a Christmas card. The snow covers the roof and overhangs, lights beckoning her in. It’s the good kind of rustic and Ginny breathes a sigh of relief.
Walking into the lobby, she takes in the outdoors-y décor, the couches facing the fireplace, the smell of wood in the air.
And the complete lack of people, workers or otherwise.
She walks up to the front desk and looks around for a bell or some other way to summon someone. Silence is all that greets her. She’s tired and stressed from the drive and wants nothing more than to curl up in bed, sleep this terrible day off, and maybe try again tomorrow.
“Hello?” she shouts, annoyance clear in her voice. “Paying customer out here. Can someone check me in or should I just grab a key off the wall and do it myself?”
As she opens her mouth to continue, she startles at the appearance of a man coming out of a backroom. He looks to be about mid-thirties, the beard and flannel he’s wearing making him look like a lumberjack. The frown creasing his forehead makes him look like a cranky lumberjack.
“I need a room,” she explains, watching him stop at the other end of the counter and start rifling through a drawer.
“I heard you.” He’s gruff and dismissive, and Ginny almost feels petulant enough to stomp her foot. If this wasn’t the only place to stay for miles, she would be long gone.
“Well? I’m assuming it’s your job to check me in?”
His head snaps towards her, eyes narrowed as he chews his gum aggressively. Stalking over, he pulls out a key and slaps it down on the counter. “Name and credit card.”
Ginny rolls her eyes, pulling the required cards out of her wallet and tapping her foot while he slowly types the information into the computer in front of him. Finally, he slides the cards and key across the counter, not bothering to give her a glance.
“Staircase on your left, your room is the third door on the right. Breakfast served from 6 until 10:30.”
Without so much as a ‘thank you’ or ‘enjoy your stay’, he turns around and lumbers back towards the room he first appeared from. Ginny scoffs, grabbing her suitcase and heading for the stairs. It wasn’t like she needed someone to carry her luggage, but an offer would have been nice.
She follows the directions to her room, opening the door and peaking inside. It’s got a certain charm to it, from its country-esque quilt to the fuzzy carpet covering the wood flooring. The faint, lingering aroma of fire eases her nerves, and she drops heavily on the bed. She has to change into something to sleep in and brush her teeth, but first, Trevor.
She pulls up her “recent calls” list, tapping on his name and waiting a beat.
“Where are you?”
Ginny blows out a sigh. “I’m at some lodge. The road was closed because of the snow, so I’m stuck here for the night.”
“Everyone was looking forward to seeing you tonight Ginny,” he informs her, the edge of disappointment evident in his voice.
“My hands were tied. Besides, it beats being in a ditch somewhere.” Her joke falls on deaf ears as he sighs. “Look, it’s been a long day, I’m going to get some sleep.”
“Ok Ginny. I’m glad you’re ok. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She hangs up, runs through her bedtime routine before dropping back onto the bed. The mattress isn’t anything to write home about, but the bedding is warm and for now, anything is better than being on that snowy road.
~*~
For someone who’s not really a people person, maybe running a lodge isn’t the best choice of careers for Mike Lawson.
(He was a people person once. Jovial and humorous and easy to befriend. That was before his wife – ex-wife – cheated on him, and definitely before his ex-wife got engaged to the Other Man. That sort of puts a damper on a person’s goodwill towards men.)
For the hundredth time that day, he considers selling the stupid place. There’s always hotel chains sniffing around and making offers. It would be so easy to accept the cash and head for a sunnier climate. He’s sick of snow and cold. Give him a beer and put him on a beach and he’ll be a happy camper (well, as happy as he gets these days).
Maybe he holds onto it because he’s holding onto Rachel. Maybe he’s delusional enough to think she’ll come back to him. Maybe he’s holding onto it out of spite – he’ll run this place successfully as his last big ‘screw you’.
Maybe it just reminds him of happier times.
It certainly doesn’t feel that way around the holidays. Rachel always went nuts, over-decorating the lobby and the dining room. It wasn’t an enjoyment thing, but a décor thing. What the hell had she called it? An aesthetic? To him, it was just pine needles and stray tinsel and sparkles from ornaments.
Besides, Christmas is when families and friends gather together with all their yuletide crap. Mike doesn’t need another reminder of the fact that he’s alone. The empty bed and the tug in his chest are signals enough.
He had always imagined Christmas mornings, a couple of kids happily unwrapping presents stashed under the tree. That memory had faded completely the moment he found out about Rachel’s infidelity. The love of his life was leaving him, what hope was there for a family of his own?
Now all Mike has is his immature lodge staff and a grand total of two real friends in the world. Ho ho ho, Merry freakin’ Christmas.