CHAPTER 1

It was a cold clear morning at the ski resort base. The high altitude air was crisp and dry, the ground packed with new snow. It was early March and the resort was alive, the busiest month of the year. New guests emptied off crowded trams into the main base area. Snow peacocks in designer outfits wandered the quaint mountain village, clumping along in their heavy ski boots, burdened by the weight of their shoulder-borne skis and poles. Their children followed, equally colorful over-stuffed muffins bundled against the cold, the smaller ones marked by the helium-filled balloons tied to their backs.

The Ski & Ride School line-up began at a quarter to ten. Mornings were a festive event for the instructors, despite the sometimes frigid temperatures and blinding snow. This morning there were twenty or so present, a modest number based on the resort-generated guest projections. The instructors stood before a row of fifteen-foot high banners, each banner a different color to mark the sundry levels of the ski school. Claudia was there, effervescent from her early morning adventure. She fell in behind the crowd of orange uniforms. Unobtrusive, she stayed hidden at the back of the crowd, comfortable in her own space.

John Webster, a slim, muscular, slightly balding thirty-five-year-old athlete stood next to Claudia. Another instructor, late for the lineup, slipped into the crowd and jammed his skis into the crowded ski rack. The entire stack of skis slipped and fell forward. Claudia ducked to cover her head. In a flash, John’s hand flew out and caught the sharp metal edge of one ski, inches from Claudia’s face.

“Thanks.”

She lifted her head and smiled at her protector. John grumbled at the culprit, now busy picking up the fallen skis. John was her rock, a loyal friend and at times when Claudia needed it most, his merriment would brighten her day. John had attended instructor orientation with Claudia. No one seemed to know much about John or where he came from. But no one had asked. People minded their own business in the mountains. All anyone knew was that John was the life of the party, the court jester, easy going and jovial.

But if one took a closer look, deep into his eyes, a different story emerged. Blue-grey and encircled by a dim shadow, the eyes shared none of John’s humor. They spoke of far away places and terrible things they had witnessed; eyes that held dark and dirty secrets.

“So what have you been up to?” said John with an impish grin. “Your face is flushed, your body twitching, the color of your skin more beautiful than normal. I know it can’t be a boy, because your head is buried in those strange numbers you’re always crunching. So what is it then?”

John wagged his finger in her face. “Have we been a bad girl this morning? A little poaching out of bounds, perhaps?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Claudia, bowing her head, hiding her smile from the one person who never failed to penetrate her comfortable inner sanctum. “You are such a clown,” she added, her Austrian accent revealing her amusement. “…And you are blessed with such a vivid imagination.”

“We’ll see,” said John, pointing. “Our illustrious leader Todd – your former beau - seems a little perturbed today.”

John pointed at Todd Morgan, the man who stood before their group. The Ski and Ride School supervisor, Todd held a clipboard in his hand and carried a mountain ops radio in a front facing harness that was strapped across his muscular chest. He was tall with broad shoulders, taut muscles, and a square jaw. His hair was jet black with thick eyebrows to match. Blessed with a physique honed from his days “on the hill,” as the locals referred to snow sports, and not a weight pile, Todd Morgan had the classic physique of a Greek god. Both male and female heads turned anytime Todd carried his skis through the cobblestone village. As testament to his popularity, Todd’s book of private lessons were reserved months in advance by a cadre of middle-aged women.

The handsome ski instructor towered over Claudia, who was petite in comparison, but also blessed with a sinewy musculature, taut and defined. A natural beauty, she kept her wavy brown hair somewhat shoulder length, a practical accommodation to her active lifestyle. Claudia rarely wore makeup, not that it mattered; while her looks were the subject of many passing smiles, it was not something that Claudia spent time on.

Claudia was Todd’s former lover, a hard catch for a man used to having his way with women. It was a demanding catch, with the rebellious female difficult to reel in. Todd was smitten the first time he saw Claudia Kohl walk into the Ski & Ride School office. She had just finished a run on the mountain and still wore her helmet and goggles. Todd was going through an employee roster when she lifted the helmet and goggles and shook her head, laughing at something John had said. A bushel of brown hair fell to her shoulders. Todd stood, frozen in mid-sentence as he watched her glide across the room. He was relentless in his quest for her hand. The ski instructor’s ego, it was said, was as large as Aspen Mountain. And their relationship, when it happened, evolved around skiing and nothing else. But her independence and intelligence had been too daunting for the virile ski instructor. So they grew apart, with Claudia focused on her greatest passion, her research.

As the leader of the Ski & Ride School, Todd alone was answerable to ski resort management for any trouble or problems that an instructor might cause. This morning Todd had a plate full of ski instructor trouble.

“Good morning, group,” said Todd. “Before we discuss our assignments, I want to talk about a phone call I received early this morning…very early this morning.”

John nudged Claudia.

Veins were visible on his angry forehead. “…It was the head of Ski Patrol; seems that one of our ski instructor brethren, or somebody dressed like one, decided to hike Tucker for some early morning powder runs in the back bowls. Needless to say, I got my ass chewed out for not keeping a leash on you lovely folks, and a fifteen minute lecture on the danger of avalanches.” Todd glared at the group of mostly male instructors who were snickering at his announcement. “And that was before I had my coffee.”

“Go ahead and laugh,” he said. “Do you morons have any idea of the trouble you’d cause if one of you triggered an avalanche? The written reports, the local media? …The problems with the Forest Service, Search and Rescue, and not to mention our brain dead resort administrators?”

“Had to be the Pollack,” shouted John from the back, pointing at Claudia. The male instructors broke out in laughter. Claudia turned crimson and shoved the taller John. “I am Austrian, you bald-headed pig.” More hoots from the crowd. Claudia cursed John in perfect German, followed by a string of French expletives and some choice Spanish.

Todd looked at Claudia. He was not over the beauty and mystique of his most gifted employee and former lover. His eyes penetrated hers, and not because of the out of bounds skiing.

Claudia gave Todd her best disarming smile. “I don’t know what he’s talking about, Todd … I was sleeping.” She kept the smile and turned to glare at John.

Todd was flustered by her look, but gained his composure.

“You never sleep.” He turned to the crowd of instructors. “Let me make it short and sweet: if you want to work here, stay in bounds. If I catch anyone poaching, you’re outa here.”

Todd then read the group their assignments. Claudia picked up a repeat private lesson, and laughed when Todd banished John to the children’s center, assigned to an unmanageable group of five-year-olds from Great Britain.

***

The lifts shut down at dusk. The tall trees lining the ski runs camouflaged the normally visible bumps and ruts with dark shadows. Ski Patrol conducted their final sweep across the mountain, searching for lost or injured skiers, clearing the way for the night crews who groomed the runs. The snow cat crews, mostly men, worked into the early morning hours, alone in their cabs, grooming the beginner and intermediate trails. The eclectic nature of these snow pilots, like many drawn to the Rocky Mountain lifestyle, was the stuff of legend.

Mountain après ski celebrations, unlike the big cities that most guests left behind, started early, around 5 p.m. Tourists, un-acclimated and burnt out from snow riding the entire day, straggled into the slope side saloons exhausted. They came with their bright raccoon faces, a familiar red outline around large white eye circles, a goggle-faced badge of courage earned after a day on “the hill.” Alcohol would only fuel the tourist’s high-altitude misery, but few cared. The local market sold out its inventory of oxygen canisters, which gave the vacationers an extended reprieve from their exhaustion.

Parker’s was a run down saloon off the main village plaza. Thick with rough sawn timbers and wood framed pictures of old skiers and frontier mining days, the run down atmosphere was its attraction. Unlike the wood and metal twenty-foot high ceilings of the slope side corporate show spots, Parker’s had character. Long prized by the locals, it served as a meeting place for the ski instructors, who entertained their guests after a day on the mountain. Claudia was there, alone in a corner, nursing a drink as she made notes on a table napkin. John was at the bar, captivating several female Texans with his humor. Off to his side was Todd, who had trouble keeping his eyes off Claudia.

Todd, with his chiseled features and exceptional looks, was not accustomed to female rejection. Most women would kill to get close to him. It took him a glass of beer and a whiskey chaser before he garnered the courage to walk to her table. He was a foot away from her when he stumbled. He quickly regained his posture.

“Hey.”

Claudia was lost in thought, immersed in her work. She took a moment to acknowledge him, and smiled.

“Oh. Hi.” Her voice was soft.

He lifted his glass. “Can I get you a refill?”

“Thanks, I’m good,” said Claudia.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your notebook or writing pad,” said Todd.

She lifted the paper napkin, filled with formulas and numbers. “Napkin. Forgot my notebook.”

He tilted forward to read the hieroglyphics and reached for the napkin.

She pulled it away, “Girl stuff,” and continued writing her notes.

Raised by foster parents in Austria, Claudia had abandoned her native country to study theoretical physics in a graduate program at MIT. Her tenure at the prestigious university had lasted about a year and a half. By the start of her second year she had grown restless, rebelling against its institutional structure and the fact that Boston had no mountains. She dropped out soon after. Living off a modest trust left by unknown relatives, Claudia moved to a remote cabin in the Colorado Rockies, an ideal location for her two passions; skiing and science. There she managed to find work as a part time ski instructor. Unencumbered by a university curriculum, she spent the remainder of her time conducting cryptic “thought experiments,” in physics and math.

“So why did you drop out of MIT?

Claudia’s face remained buried in her notes. “Rules.”

Todd, more relaxed, smiled. “Like skiing out of bounds?”

“Something like that. But I was asleep, remember?”

Todd watched her write. “If my instincts serve me-”

“They don’t.”

“I’d have to say you have physics in your blood.”

Claudia put down her pen. “Orphans don’t know much about their blood.”

“Oh,” said Todd. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up –”

“Don’t be. You know about my foster parents. They were great. My mother died at childbirth.” She reached for her glass and finished her drink. “I still live off the trust one of her relatives left me.”

“You never told me about your father.”

Claudia shrugged her response. She picked up her pen and returned her attention to her notes, ignoring Todd.

“I guess I’m getting too personal,” said Todd, his voice soft.

She put down her pen and touched Todd’s arm.

Her voice was gentle. “Look, what we had was great. You treated me as an equal. You gave me my space… So why is it when a man sleeps with a woman, he thinks he’s entitled to know everything about her?”

Todd, wounded by her words, failed to respond. Claudia stood, folding the napkin and gathering her things.

“I have to get this finished.” She dropped cash on the table.

Todd pushed the cash back. “I’ve got it.”

She grinned. “No you don’t. I’m the trust fund baby, remember? Relax, you’re a good person. …I’m the one who needs therapy.” She held up the napkin. “This is my life. My work. It consumes me.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know how to have a relationship.”

She kissed Todd on the cheek and walked to the bar exit.

Todd gathered his ego and returned to the bar. He ordered another beer and chaser. Spinning off the bar with a bright animated smile, he turned his attentions to a Dallas-based flight attendant in John’s group.

John grinned when he saw Todd approach Claudia. The ski instructor knew the drama between Claudia and Todd. When Claudia gave Todd the brush off and stood, John excused himself from his group and headed in the direction of the restroom. He cut right, slipped through the crowd and caught Claudia’s arm before she reached the exit.

“Not so fast,” he said, his voice slurring. “We can’t let the most beautiful woman here leave without a hug.”

Claudia’s face brightened when she recognized her assailant. She feigned anger. “Don’t talk to me. You reported me to the snow Nazis.”

“How dare you accuse me of aiding the snow Nazis!”

Claudia playfully shoved him aside and he stumbled, laughing. “Go back to your bimbos. I’ll see you tomorrow at lineup.”

“Wait!”

Claudia waived with the back of her hand, smiling, ignoring his taunts as she left the building.

John watched Claudia leave. Casually turning to scan the bar, he looked for anyone observing his moves. The intoxication and jovial demeanor, a facade, disappeared.

His eyes never left Claudia.

Assured that everything was in place, he looked at his watch, took a final glance out the window and returned to the bar crowd, casually reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.