Chapter 3 - Panic at Cedar Pines
Forty miles away, inside the grand stone-and-timber lobby of Cedar Pines Lodge, chaos had reached a fever pitch.
According to later accounts from the event staff—details I would piece together through emails and receipts—my family was standing in the middle of the main dining room like a stranded expedition team on Mount Everest.
My father, Arthur Ellis, was red-faced, leaning heavily on his brass-handled cane and jabbing a finger toward Sarah, the general manager.
"What do you mean the room isn't ready?" my father demanded, his voice carrying over the festive holiday jazz playing softly in the lobby. "We have twenty people here! My son’s business associates are guests of honor! We have a signed contract!"
Sarah remained completely professional, though her smile was razor-thin. "Mr. Ellis, as I’ve explained twice now, the contract was held under Ms. Rebecca Ellis. When the primary host and financial guarantor cancels a private dining contract and revokes service authorization, our policy requires an immediate halt to all setup. Furthermore, the outstanding balance for the holiday package was scheduled to be processed via the host’s card on file—which has now been declined due to the cancellation."
Mark stepped forward, his expression a mix of arrogance and rising panic. "Look, just put it on my card. I’m a senior partner at my firm. I can cover it. Run my Amex right now."
Sarah tilted her head. "I can certainly start a new booking for you, sir, if space permits. Let me check our availability." She tapped rapidly on her iPad. "Ah. As it happens, every single private dining room is fully committed. Furthermore, our main dining hall is at 110% capacity for Christmas dinner reservations. We cannot accommodate a party of twenty without a pre-arranged, signed contract."
"Can't you just squeeze us in somewhere?" Jenna chimed in, her voice pitching upward in disbelief. "We have children! My daughter Ava has a severe dairy allergy, which was noted in Rebecca’s file—which you apparently just threw away!"
"It wasn't thrown away, ma'am," Sarah said coldly. "It was canceled by the account holder. If you have complaints about the arrangements, I suggest you take them up with Ms. Rebecca Ellis."
My mother let out a soft, theatrical gasp, pressing a manicured hand to her chest. "She wouldn't do that. Rebecca is... she’s reliable. She’s just being dramatic. Call her again, Arthur. Make her answer."
"I’ve called her forty times!" my father roared, his patience entirely evaporated. "Her phone goes straight to voicemail! She’s punishing us over a minor seating arrangement!"
Around them, Mark’s boss, a man named Mr. Henderson, stood awkwardly near the massive stone fireplace, holding a glass of lukewarm sparkling cider. He looked at Mark with a mixture of mild amusement and severe discomfort.
"Everything alright here, Mark?" Henderson asked. "Should we find somewhere else for dinner? My wife is getting a bit chilly standing by the coat rack."
May you like
Mark’s face turned the color of a bruised plum. "No, no, Richard, everything’s fine! Just a little family scheduling hiccup. My sister is... well, she’s eccentric. We’ll get it sorted in a moment."
"Eccentric," Jenna muttered under her breath, glaring at the empty dining room doors. "She’s a lunatic."
