CHAPTER 4

The morning was crisp and clear. The sun shone brightly as the early snow riders, anxious to make the most of their day at the mountain, headed for the ski lifts. They jumped off the resort parking transports, their pace intense as they shuffled through the cobblestone village. Pouring out early from their mountainside condominiums, they moved in blocked herds and headed for the “hill.” Young parents dragged their sleepy children, unaccustomed to the oxygen-depleted altitude, across the resort village into the nurseries and children’s ski school programs. Headed to the lifts, they all scurried to form the early lift lines, standing close behind one another, as they waited for the rope barriers to drop and the lifts to open.

Uniformed minimum-wage lift attendants, many college students from Australia and New Zealand, stood guard behind the lift ropes. Behind them the mechanical noise was prominent as the bull wheels turned, moving the steel cable “haul rope” in a continual loop, as it carried the chairs up the mountain. The young attendants laughed and stomped their feet in the cold as they nursed hangovers and waited for the signal to begin scanning lift tickets and loading the chairs with customers.

Ski Patrol was already on the mountain. At daybreak they rode the lifts and their snowmobiles up, some with their avalanche dogs, headed to strategically placed patrol “shacks,” the small heated cabins located atop the above-tundra peaks. There the patrollers would stay, checking their rescue gear and sleds, monitoring their radios, as they waited to be dispatched on their missions of mercy.

For most big city visitors, it was hard to shake the “24/7” lifestyle that had earned them the right to afford their seasonal ski mountain visits. Cell phones, Blackberries and laptops accompanied these masters of the universe as they maximized every waking moment, to and from the hill.

Not so with those who had made a decision to leave that life behind. For those who had relocated to the mountains, a move following a divorce, retirement, white collar sentence or a fortuitous sell-off of stock, the pace was much different. It was a cadence that came with the territory, the natural rhythm of the mountains, a relaxed state of mind. It was widely known among the locals that for periods after the lift lines began, or for the hour during lunch, the lines disappeared. But that was not the point. Whenever it was time to go up on the hill, the locals smiled and quietly waited their turn to ride the chair lifts, secure in the knowledge that the mountains would always be there. Rich or poor, whatever lifestyle change had attracted these transients to the mountains, there generally came with it a life changing commitment. And it was not just a concession made for a harsh alpine climate. For most it was a time to slow down, and for some a time to heal. For all it was an acknowledgement that life was a lot more than just the next luxury car or a bigger house.

The thrill of snow riding would always be there, but most recognized that if it were time to read that new book or to make love with a partner, the chair lifts would not disappear.

As for the snow, it would always come to the Rocky Mountains.

Todd and John were out early that morning. They strolled through the village, headed for the local breakfast café. The line was out the door when they arrived. Todd stepped inside, followed by John. A rush of warm air encircled them. A dark coffee aroma filled the crowded room. A distinct bouquet of cooking omelets and bacon emanated from a large black grill centered in the restaurant. Separated from the customers by a short glass wall, a busy cook scraped the sizzling fat into an opening at the front of the iron grill. A part-time ski instructor, the cook grinned and nodded hello when he spotted John and Todd.

The restaurant catered to a mixture of tourists and locals. John was vibrant as he laughed and joked with passing friends. Making his way through the crowd, John felt an elbow poke him in the side.

“There she is,” said Todd.

Claudia was alone, sitting in a corner, scribbling notes on a small tablet. Wearing her dark hair pulled back straight, it was an effect that accented a perfectly shaped head and endearing eyes; a magnetized look, drawing in all that was around her. Pinched-tight lips and a furrowed brow enhanced the splendor of her visage, reflecting the intensity of the young woman’s thoughts as she lifted her head to pause, touching the pencil to her lips before she returned to her notes, scratching away her newest thoughts.

Todd was obsessed with her beauty.

And it was not just the visual effect. Everything Claudia touched with her mind was changed forever. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. He felt bewitched, unable to break the spell she held over him.

A busy waitress, a young woman in shorts, passed between the two men with a pot of coffee. Her movement was quick. John gazed at her sinewy musculature, the athletic shoulders exposed by her sleeveless vest, a common look with young mountain women, her legs and arms defined by the number of days she spent out of doors.

Todd left John to gaze at the waitress and approached Claudia, stopping in front of her table.

“Morning,” said Todd.

Claudia slowly lifted her head from her notes. With her mind focused on her work, she had to clear her thoughts before she finally recognized the man standing in front of her.

“Oh, good morning,” she said, the far off look beginning to fade.

John was in the background, glancing over his shoulder at the attractive waitress.

“Mind if we join you?” said Todd, nodding at John, as if to demonstrate to Claudia that it was a two-man, “just friends” effort.

“Take a seat,” she said.

John lost sight of the waitress. He pulled out a chair next to Claudia and plopped himself down. He leaned over to look at Claudia’s notes and shook his head. “No, no,” he said, putting a finger on the pad. “Add a square root there.”

A small grin broke the focused expression on Claudia’s face.

“Cretin,” she said, mumbling.

Todd gingerly pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Off today?” said Todd.

“My two private lessons cancelled,” said Claudia. “I came here to think. Background noise. It helps.”

The waitress spotted them sitting down and headed for the table. She no longer carried the coffee. Her smile at John was genuine.

“Can I get you –?”

Todd interrupted her. “Coffee, please.”

“Same, and a menu,” said John.

Two menus were plopped on the table and the waitress walked away, without saying a word.

For several minutes Todd and John were silent, watching Claudia make notes on her pad.

“I was thinking about going down to Denver,” said Todd.

Claudia kept her face buried in her work. “Um,” she said, her reply muted.

John scanned the menu. “God, I love their hash browns.”

Todd was nervous as he tried to gain Claudia’s attention. “Yeah, well, I thought maybe you might –”

The waitress returned with two coffees. She dropped them on the table with a thud, interrupting Todd’s train of thought.

“What can I get you?” said the waitress.

“True love?” said John, his grin infectious.

“You need to develop some new lines.” The waitress nodded at another table, filled with several local men. “That guy in ski patrol is a lot funnier. Probably better on the hill, too.”

“Nobody skis better than –”

“God, so much for a quiet breakfast,” said Claudia, as she lifted her head from her notes.

“So… I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come to Denver with me?” said Todd.

“Two eggs, hash browns, English muffin, bacon, extra chewy, side of sausage,” said John.

“How ‘bout I supersize it with a bowl of biscuits and gravy?” said the waitress.

“Can’t.” John patted his stomach. “My girlish figure.”

“Even if I wanted to go to Denver,” said Claudia, “I couldn’t. I’m in the middle of this project, a very intense and important project.” She paused. “Moreover, I thought that you and I had agreed we were finished with our relation-”

“Hockey,” said John, dropping his menu.

Claudia froze, her look one of amazement.

John smiled. Claudia was interested. Mission accomplished.

Claudia lost interest in her note pad. “You’re telling me you have tickets to the Avalanche playoff match?”

Claudia Kohl loved hockey, a fact known to John. Todd got John involved when he hatched his plan and obtained the hard-to-get; no, impossible to get, tickets.

Todd held up three tickets. “Box seats. No strings attached.” He nodded at John. “And John comes along as a buffer.”

Claudia understood that she had been baited but could not resist. She loved hockey, and these were tickets to the year’s biggest playoff game that were being dangled in front of her.

Todd pointed at Claudia’s note pad. “You need a break from that.”

Claudia was pensive. John knew her weak spots, and told Todd about her love of hockey. She looked at her friend with a smirk. “John I can do without,” she said. She held up her pad. “And I am trying to finish this… but you tempt a girl with hockey.” Claudia played with her pencil, knowing well what her answer would be.

“Okay, I’ll go.”

Todd was ecstatic. “Great.”

She looked at Todd. “But since we’ll be staying overnight, we get separate rooms.”

Todd tried to hide his disappointment.

John nodded in agreement. “Right… two rooms,” he said. He reached under the table and patted Claudia’s leg.

“Todd won’t mind sleeping alone.”

Claudia launched a playful slap, but John was too quick, catching the swing mid-flight, before she could do any damage.