by Leah Atwood
Her position as the chamber’s director put her on the front line of Jasper Lake’s tourism industry, a role she loved. She’d grown up in a small house atop a hill with a clear view of the lake. The town held her heart, and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Many of her childhood friends had moved away, searching for higher opportunities, but she was content here. As those friends, like Drew Sullivan, slowly moved back to town, she knew she’d made the right decision to stay.
The outside world had little to offer that she couldn’t find in Jasper Lake—family, friends, and a job she loved. When the chamber director position opened, she’d sent her resume on the first day. Her only qualifications for the job were an associate’s degree from the community college in Farthington and her love of Jasper Lake.
Two years had passed since she’d stepped into the position, and she thanked God every day for the blessing. Not only did she look forward to work every day, but the job came with a room at Addy’s Bed and Breakfast next door. The historical building served dual roles as a boarding house with three long-term guests—Jessa included—and a bed and breakfast for those passing through for a night, or week.
Jessa loved the arrangement and adored her landlord, Addy Bromel, great-granddaughter to the first Addy who opened the business. With the money saved on rent, Jessa hoped to purchase her own home in the next three years.
The chain above the door jingled. Jessa glanced up and saw Gavin Becker, Jasper Lake High School’s star quarterback, walk through the door with a box under his arm.
She discarded the stack of papers in favor of human interaction.
“Good afternoon, Miss Graff.” He flashed the smile that made many a schoolgirl’s heart melt and helped win over the older generation to his causes. “The annual candy bar fundraiser started today. Can I leave a box here?”
“Of course.” She left her desk and walked to the counter of brochures. “You can leave it right here. Same price as last year?”
He set the box on the glass counter and lifted the flap. “Yes, ma’am. A dollar each and they can leave the money in the box I’ll set up.”
“How’s practice going?”
“Great.” Gavin’s face lit with excitement. “The team’s really come together this year. We’re going to State. I know it.”
She prayed they did. JLHS hadn’t seen a championship since she’d been a senior a decade ago. “When’s the first game?”
Gavin finished constructing the small rectangular box for collecting money. “In two weeks.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Looking forward to it.” Gavin tipped his ball cap. “Thanks again for letting me set up the box. I’ll stop back in a few days to restock.”
“Anytime.”
After he left, Jessa took a dollar from her purse, slipped it through the small slit of the box and grabbed a chocolate bar from the larger box. She returned to her desk, determined to start reading the reports. The administration side of the job didn’t thrill her as much as other aspects, but she was eager to see the earnings reports.
In the spring, the state had shut down a mile of the highway nearest Jasper Lake for emergency repair. While an inconvenience for many, the detour came directly through Jasper Lake, increasing traffic to the local businesses throughout the summer. The influx caused grumbling from many of the old-timers, but Jessa was thrilled.
Jasper Lake needed new life breathed into it. The town’s citizens were divided—many believed Jasper Lake couldn’t grow without sacrificing its charm—but Jessa believed otherwise. Whenever she debated that topic, she always discussed the general store.
The Elsen family purchased the lot next to their quaint establishment and built a full-service grocery which opened last March. The added parking spaces allowed more people to stop on a whim instead of planning around peak times, and the increased variety in goods kept people in Jasper Lake instead of traveling to the nearby towns with bigger stores.
More business stayed in Jasper Lake, and the crafters who sold their goods on commission in the general store experienced an increased profit—a win-win situation.
Jessa unwrapped the candy bar and broke a piece from the top. The milk chocolate melted in her mouth. She savored the treat for several seconds while waiting for her email to load. Her internet provider wasn’t the problem, rather her antiquated laptop. One of her volunteers naively opened an email attachment with a virus that wiped out the work desktop, and Jessa had no choice except to take it to the computer repair shop, leaving her with only the laptop for a week.
She popped the last bite of chocolate into her mouth as her inbox appeared. Two requests for information came first, but her eyes latched into a message from the New York State Department of Transportation with an UPDATE subject headline. Excitement pulsed through her as she read the project’s completion date had been pushed back until February, which realistically meant sometime in the spring due to winter storms inhibiting work.
A quick awareness of selfishness stung, but she pushed it aside. Sure, it would be a pain for many people making the detour, but they wouldn’t remember long-term. Or maybe they would. Her lips curled upward at the corners, her mind filled with faith in her town’s ability to charm any passerby.
“I don’t want Jasper Lake to outgrow itself, but I won’t stand by and watch it choke itself by standing stagnant.” She’d held this conversation with herself many times but repeated it often to affirm her responsibilities and desires. “The Adirondacks offer any number of quaint towns that are moving into modern times. If Jasper Lake doesn’t compete, we’ll be relegated to obscurity. Our main industry is tourism. If we lose that, what are we left with?”
“A town that dies out with the old-timers?”
Jessa jerked her head at the sound of the deep, unfamiliar voice. Unaccustomed to giving speeches unaware, she smiled to cover her embarrassment. “Exactly.” She rose from the desk and approached the man. “I didn’t realize I had an audience.”
He offered a casual shrug of his shoulders. “The door squeaked when I came in. Sounds like the hinges need oiling.”
“I’ve meant to get to that.” She stared at the man who stood close to six feet tall.
Dark brown wisps of hair hung in shaggy disarray, but coal-black eyes sparkled. His mouth broke open in a half smile, and Jessa caught a glimpse of pearly white teeth. His outfit, from camel-colored work boots to the navy t-shirt with a logo across the chest, was clean and unwrinkled, in contrast to his hair.
“If you have any WD40, I can take care of it for you. Won’t take more than a few seconds.”
She smiled. “You must come from a small town.”
He nodded. “How’d you guess?”
“Strangers generally don’t offer help to other strangers unless they’re small-town born and bred.”
“Or raised to be a gentleman.” He winked. “Not to brag or anything.”
Laughter rose from her belly and floated into the air. “I’m Jessa Graff, the chamber of commerce director. What can I help you with?”
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