Christmas At Cedarwood Lodge: Celebrations and Confetti at Cedarwood Lodge / Brides and Bouquets at Cedarwood Lodge / Midnight and Mistletoe at Cedarwood Lodge. Rebecca Raisin

Staring up at the imposing structure with its weathered façade, I had a terrible premonition that I’d made a mistake. A huge one. But, I reasoned, clawing back rising panic, I had always wanted to buy the hundred-year-old abandoned lodge. It had been put up for sale recently, and I’d jumped at the chance. The old place had good sturdy bones; it was solid, despite the desertion of its caretakers eons ago.

Even though I’d always dreamed about owning Cedarwood Lodge I hadn’t expected for it to happen so soon. But it had, and I’d fallen madly in love with the place as it stood, shutters broken, doors in need of paint, ivy creeping through broken panes of glass, and cascading roses growing wild and free around the porch balustrades. Here was a place untouched for decades and I had a chance to bring it back to its former glory.

The September sky shifted from foggy wisps of gray to country blue as dawn arrived in the small New Hampshire town of Evergreen. A sputtering car swung into the long, winding driveway and I turned to watch my oldest friend, Micah, leap from his battered hatchback.

We’d been best friends since childhood and, though we’d drifted apart as adults, he was the first person I called when I bought Cedarwood Lodge – I offered him the job of maintenance manager, which he’d accepted with a ‘Hell, yeah.’

“You look exactly the same, Micah,” I said, reaching up for a hug. “You haven’t aged a bit.” He’d filled out, no longer the lanky teenager I’d left behind, but aside from that he was the same old Micah with the same affable smile.

“It’s the daily hikes up the bluff. That thin mountain air does wonders for my skin.” He waggled his eyebrows. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I almost fell over when you called. Lucky for you I was between jobs…”

“Lucky for me, all right.”

I couldn’t believe it’d been so long – when was the last time we had properly caught up? Five years ago, six? Time had ticked by so fast while I’d been away.

“You’re different,” he said, gesturing to my outfit and my usual flyaway curls restrained with a clip. “A little more polished.”

I grinned. “Denim cut-offs and messy hair didn’t quite cut it in Manhattan.”

“What? Crazy city folk.” He clucked his tongue.

“Right?” I joked. “How’s Veronica?” I expected him to gush about his long-term girlfriend. Instead, his lips turned down for the briefest second, before he masked it with a smile.

“Veronica? There’s a blast from the past. I haven’t seen her for two and a bit years now. She was like you, Clio, left town and didn’t look back.”

Surprise knocked me sideways that she’d left town, left Micah.

“Sorry, Micah. I thought…” Way to go, Clio!

He touched my shoulder, giving me

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