It’s hard to believe we’re already gearing up for the weekend. The school group is coming today, so we have a busy day ahead of us. I open the front door.
“Are you going out now?” Granny asks.
“Well, that was the plan.”
Granny makes a face. “Go ahead and do what you’ve got to do. One of these mornings I want to see if you can make a good omelet.” With gnarled fingers balled into fists resting on her hip, she stares at me.
I gulp. “O-kay.”
She snaps her head, turns on her heels and disappears into the kitchen before I can ask her what that’s all about. She makes no bones about scrutinizing my talents—or lack thereof. No doubt about it, Granny wants to know if I’m capable of the cook’s job before she releases the reins. Make no mistake, Granny’s on a mission.
Heaven help us all.
We have an hour before opening so I’m in good shape time-wise when I step into the sunshine. The snow crunches beneath my boots, and the chill in the air makes my face tingle. I hate to admit it, but I’m almost getting used to this place. I walk toward the ski lift. Granny’s ham-and-cheese omelet looked good this morning, but I’ve decided I’ve got to quit eating all her cooking, or I’ll break the ski lift. Maybe when I cook for her, I’ll make something healthy—something with wheat germ. Anything with wheat germ has to be healthy. No, I’d better not. Granny’s all about taste, not health. I guess she figures she’s lived this long without wheat germ, why start now? Come to think of it, that’s my motto, too.
Tonight our first overnight guests are due to arrive for the weekend, which is kind of exciting. I know Mitch is getting anxious for overnight guests. Candace says it takes time for people to hear about the new businesses in the area.
Though I’m alone, I barely notice when the ski lift scoops me onboard. I’m training myself to keep looking forward and not actually think about the height. I’ve learned my lesson. We could have an avalanche or an earthquake beneath my feet, and it wouldn’t matter. I refuse to look down.
Sunlight glistens off the snow ahead of me as I glide up the mountain. I take a deep breath and actually feel total peace. Well, okay, maybe not total peace. I do have a death grip on the bar in front of me, but at least I’m upright and breathing. Me. Riding up a mountain, in a ski lift. How weird is that?
I’ve been thinking of Mom and Dad lately. By the sounds of their recent phone call, though, they’re having the time of their lives. I can’t help feeling a little slighted. I mean, why can’t they have that much fun when I’m with them? Not that I want to be cooped up in an RV with them.
I slide off the ski lift and make my way to the shop. Lisa will be here in a couple of hours. Things are always slow when we first open. I suppose that will change as word gets out about the resort.
Once I run through our supplies to make sure we have everything we need, I make myself a hot mocha. One of the perks of working here is I get all the drinks I want for free. Hey, that alone would have brought me here to work.
“Good morning!” Mitch walks through the door and shakes the snow from his jacket.
“It’s snowing?”
“Yeah, coming down pretty good.”
“I’ve been so busy getting things ready for the school group, I hadn’t noticed. Want something to drink?”
He flashes one of those smiles that give me elf toes again. “That would be great.”
“Americano or mocha?”
He looks surprised. “I’m an Americano man myself.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I beg to differ. You ordered a mocha when you were with Monica the other day,” I say, trying to act as though it doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. I measure the espresso and water and start the machine.
He looks at me. “I did?”
“Yep, you did.”
He shrugs. “I have more shots of espresso in my Americano. When I’m already jazzed, the last thing I need is more caffeine, you know?”
Well, this little bit of information certainly does not make me feel better. He was jazzed when he was with Monica. Jazzed as in battery running in full gear or jazzed as in nervous? I’m thinking I don’t want to know this, so I set to work on his Americano.
“I don’t want to get stuck in a rut, anyway. I’m into trying different things.” I nod and give him the Americano. With my mocha in hand, I follow him to a nearby table. “Besides, sometimes I need something sweet.”
We sit down. Something sweet? I bat my lashes a few times and put on my sweetest smile. “How do you feel about cashews?” I ask.
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind.” Chocolate, cashews, whatever it takes. Can we talk long-term commitment here?
I’m picturing an open meadow, me, Hunky Boy on a blanket with the sun shining overhead and a picnic basket filled with chocolate between us. He lifts a chocolate-covered cashew to my lips and—
“Do you only drink mochas?” he asks.
And his words shatter my mirage into a hundred pieces. It takes me a moment to realize where I am, who I am, and what year this is. Though he’s gorgeous, his timing stinks.
“Yeah. When I find something I like, I pretty much stick with it.” I gather my courage. “So were you jazzed because of opening day or because of Monica Howell?” I tease, but now I feel kind of embarrassed that I’ve asked such a probing question.
“That’s fair. The answer is both.”
Great. The prom queen renders the quarterback speechless.
“Monica makes me nervous because I think she’s digging for answers, trying to find out my next move, so she can one-up me.”
I listen, feeling slightly guilty for enjoying his comments against Monica.
“I’m not sure I can trust her.” He stares into his Americano then looks up at me. “But then she is helping me get the business off the ground, so I should be grateful.” He smiles. “You know, you’re easy to talk to.”
I’m rather enjoying this little conversation. No, wait. Does he mean easy to talk to as in a girl who he could enjoy being with, or easy to talk to as in kid sister? I’m choosing to go with number one.
He stretches back, lifting the front legs of his chair off the floor. He glances at the clock on the wall. “We’ve still got a few minutes.”
Stolen moments in time—together. The very idea makes me sigh out loud. When I hear myself, it startles me and I jerk. Not a little twitch, mind you. I’m talking a spasm that could set off an avalanche. The twitch sends my mocha from the table onto the floor.
Mitch’s chair flops forward with a thud. I rush up to the counter and grab some paper towel to clean up the mess I’ve made. While I’m mopping up the floor I have visions of my senior prom, where I was crowned queen—well, almost.
I had walked up the stairs to the platform to accept my crown. A friend down below waved at me. I lifted my hand to wave back and knocked the crown from Principal Hunt’s hand. It went sailing through the crowd and landed on the floor. Unfortunately, the first person to pick it up was my dreaded rival—who had also run for prom queen.
Tense moments followed as we all waited with bated breath to see if she would bring the crown back to me. She did, but I think that’s only because it was bent where someone had stepped on it. Probably her.
“You all right?”
Mitch’s voice once again startles me back to the present, and I realize he’s on the floor beside me, dabbing at spilled mocha with paper towels.
“I’m fine.”
“We seem to do this a lot,” he teases.
Thanks for the reminder. I lift a hesitant smile, and we continue to work in silence. We stand and walk the soiled towels over to the trash and plop them in.
“I guess I had better get out there,” he says.
I’ve made such a mess of things. I look at him, not knowing what to say.
“It’s no big deal, you know,” he says as if reading my mind.
“Thanks, Mitch.”
His eyes pin my heart in place for a full beat. “You’re welcome.” He turns and walks out the door.
Only then do I feel my pulse kick in once again….
High school kids burst through the door of the coffee shop, laughing, bumping into tables, talking loud. They’re tracking snow everywhere, and I don’t mind. It’s refreshing to see their happy faces. They’re having a good time and it shows.
Lisa’s making the drinks. All I have to do is collect the money. Talk about a great job.
“Hi, what can we get you?” I ask the first kid. I swallow hard when I see the influx of teens continue to enter the room. They keep coming and coming. It reminds me of those commercials where you see thirty people spill out of a compact car.
It takes some effort, but we finally get everyone taken care of, and the room settles down to a comfortable hum of voices. The fireplace crackles and sparks, spilling evergreen scents and warmth into the room. Outside the window, snow continues to fall from heavy gray clouds. I’m starting to wonder where Mitch has gone. He didn’t make it to the inn for lunch. In fact, I haven’t seen him since my fiasco this morning. He’s probably decided to stay as far away from me as he can.
“Since the kids will be leaving in the next ten minutes, do you mind if I go ski for a little while?” Lisa’s question surprises me. I mean, she is still on the clock, but I guess that’s between her and Mitch.
“It doesn’t bother me,” I say, meaning it. The kids are fairly quiet. I doubt anyone will order drinks before leaving anyway.
“Thanks.” Lisa heads for the back room to get ready but returns a moment later.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I don’t have enough money to rent skis, and I left mine at home,” she says with obvious disappointment.
“Go down to the inn and tell Granny I said you could use my skis.”
“I don’t know.” She bites her lower lip.
“Come on, Lisa, I don’t mind at all. They really should be used.”
“Don’t you like to ski?”
I suddenly realize she’s not aware of my aversion to skiing. “Sometimes, but let’s just say it’s not my favorite thing to do.” I laugh.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. Now go.” I shoo her off with my hands and she heads out the door.
When the kids leave, I clean up the shop. I don’t mind the solitude really—at first. My mind drifts to my friends back home. A sort of melancholy settles in, which is very unlike me. I don’t do melancholy as a rule. Still, there it is. I decide tonight might be a good time to go visit Lauren and Garrett. I’ll call first to make sure they don’t already have plans. Hopefully, the weather will permit me to go somewhere.
The door swings open, and Lisa walks inside. She is covered with a layering of snow, her face is cherry red and her eyes are sparkling.
“What a rush!” she says, hobbling over to a table in her ski boots. I take the skis from her so she can pull her boots off.
“Did the skis work for you?” I call behind me.
“They were awesome!”
“Wish they’d work for me,” I mutter under my breath.
Lisa tugs at her boots with a grunt. “Mitch joined me on a couple of runs. He is so cool.”
Her comment sends a chill clear through me. He went skiing with her? Is she interested in him? Is he interested in her? A harmless ski down the mountain, that’s all this is, right? There goes that green thing again. I might have to get rid of Guacamole. I think he’s rubbing off on me. I have no claims on Mitch, so he can do what he wants.
“’Course, Monica came along and took him away.”
And this is supposed to make me feel better? “Wonder what she’s doing here again,” I say nonchalantly.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Another grunt and Lisa pulls off the final ski boot. I walk over to her table and sit down.
“What do you mean?”
“I told you she’s after him. She’s been after him for years.” She adjusts her socks and puts on her street boots. “I don’t know her all that well, but from what I’ve heard, when Monica sets her sights on something, she gets what she wants.”
“Well, she hasn’t gotten him after all these years.”
Something about the way she stares at me makes me a little uncomfortable. “True enough,” she says. “Still, she’s the patient sort. Keep in mind he’s been abroad doing a little playing himself. His family isn’t hurting for money, let me tell you.”
I know that much, but I don’t necessarily want to discuss it with her. Candace is one of my best friends, and I feel as though we’re gossiping about her family. Come to think of it, that’s exactly what’s happening here.
“He’s known as a player. Love ’em and leave ’em, they say, is his motto. In other words, he’s not one to settle down. In fact, the scuttlebutt in town says this place won’t last long.” She shrugs. “He never sticks with a project. Gets bored too easily.”
“People can change. Besides, he seems dedicated to this one,” I defend, hoping I’m right. After all, I’ve put my life on hold for this opportunity. I don’t want to head back to Arizona in a month or two, feeling every inch the failure.
“Maybe,” she says with skepticism. “Hey, I was thinking you and I ought to get together sometime. You know, go shopping or something. Hang out together away from work.”
I’m surprised by her offer, but it sounds good, all the same. “That would be great, Lisa. Thanks for offering.” I don’t want to blubber about feeling lonely, but her saying that makes me feel better.
“How about this weekend?”
I perk. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, let’s see, how about tomorrow night we go to a movie?”
Girls can do that without feeling all weird like guys sometimes do. “That would be fun.” I try to hold my enthusiasm in check. She doesn’t need to know that I have no life.
“Let’s see, how about I come by and pick you up around five o’clock. That will give us time to grab a bite to eat, then head to the seven o’clock show.”
“I’ll be ready,” I say, as Mitch walks into the room, all smiles. I’m feeling a little irritated with him, though I know I have no right. So what if he’s been with Monica this afternoon?
“Hey, ladies. Too late to grab a coffee?” he asks me.
“I suppose I can squeeze in one more before closing shop,” I tease.
“Well, I’m outta here,” Lisa calls over her shoulder. We wave goodbye, and she closes the door behind her.
“Was it something I said?” Mitch asks.
“What?”
“She sure got out of here in a hurry.”
I shrug. “I think she’s tired from all that skiing today.”
“I didn’t see her skiing much. Mostly talking with the ski-lift operator. I was going to say something to her about that.”
I look at him for a moment.
“What?”
“I don’t know. She said she went skiing, and you and her skied a while.”
He pulls off his coat and gloves. “I wouldn’t call one time down the mountain ‘a while,’ but whatever.” He scoots his chair back and plops his feet on the table. “I know I shouldn’t do this. I’ll clean off the table before I leave, I promise,” he says with a grin.
I give him his Americano. “You’re allowed. You’re the boss.”
“Thanks.” He takes a drink from his cup.
“So do you think it went well with the kids today?” I ask.
“Yeah, I feel pretty good about it.” He pulls open his lid and blows on the hot brew.
“Sorry if I got it too hot.”
“No, I like it this way. It’s fine.” He replaces the lid.
“Um, Lisa said Monica dropped by again.”
“Yeah. She’s up to something, no doubt about it. If she comes in here asking questions, try to evade them. As I said before, I’m not sure I can trust her. She might truly be trying to help, but I don’t know.”
We talk a while longer then realize it’s almost time for dinner. Mitch helps me clean up then we head down the mountain together on the ski lift.
He doesn’t trust Monica, yet he’s all aglow every time she’s around. None of this makes sense. Now I’m beginning to wonder who to trust….