CHAPTER V

“Three months,” Anya grumbled to herself, and all to land in a winter wonderland when she hated the cold. What was even worse, she hated Christmas, and the chalet she was booked at was decorated like Santa’s workshop. There were bursts of greenery garnished with red and gold balls everywhere. So many sparkly ribbons festooning the place that even the mice were probably tripping over them. To make Anya’s misery complete, the ambience of the place was punctuated by the sounds of the season. Even when Anya went outside, brightly colored lights blinked to remind her of the time of the year surrounding her. Inwardly, Anya snarled, even as she smiled to return their salutations and wished everyone to perdition.

It hadn’t taken Anya long after arriving in the area to figure out what Haltom had written about in his notations. Anya could see the place where she needed to go from the balcony of her suite. Correction, from the balcony window of her suite. No way in hell she was going anywhere close to the stinking, fresh frozen air if she had anything to say about it. The people who came here looked at Anya in question when she refused all of their invitations to join them, but, truth be told, she wished they would leave her alone. Wasn’t she miserable enough without them pushing their exuberance down her throat? Anya wished they would shove all this pristine whiteness somewhere the sun didn’t shine.

Beyond the celebratory mood of the people around her, Anya had woken to find a wrinkle on her face. A wrinkle! Granted, it had gone away quickly, but it had given her something else to blame on the situation she was in. It hadn’t helped that the first time Anya had made her way to the dining area, she had needed to rub her arms to warm them slightly because she was freezing. When Anya had met up with one of the employees, she asked the unfortunate girl whether they heated the place other than with the fireplaces. The girl had hesitantly apologized and then had claimed the others were complaining they kept the chalet too warm. Too warm? It was barely eighty degrees in the place.

Anya had quickly eaten her meal and then gone up to her room to get a blanket so she could huddle next to the blazing fire. Again, Anya was forced to smile at the people who walked past her with their bright, eager smiles, while inwardly she felt like puking at their modes of dress. Everyone wore similar outfits: sweaters decorated for the season, ski-suits, or woolen caps with pom-poms. They tended to look similar, too, with their healthy pink cheeks and happy expressions. They all needed reality pills, although, to be honest, Anya wasn’t dressed much differently. After all, she did need to blend in somewhat. With a sigh, she thought about the Christmas sweaters some of the people were wearing and frowned as she wondered whose bright idea it was to decorate them with snowflakes.

Anya’s thoughts turned away from her situation as a young girl entered the lounge area and sounded her delight. Anya’s first thought was that the girl was suffering from lack of oxygen because of the elevation. It had to be affecting her brain. The more the girl gushed about the décor of the chalet, the less Anya doubted whether she even had one.

“It is snowing outside, everyone,” the girl crowed. “They say that by morning, we should have a fresh base of approximately eighteen inches to add to what is already here. Isn’t that amazing? I love this place so much. I have never been so happy.”

Anya pasted a wide smile on her perfectly made-up face to look like she was enjoying herself as much as the rest of the crowd. To make sure she looked genuine, Anya pictured herself lying on the sunny beaches of the Riviera in a string bikini, flanked by no fewer than two male models. Now that would be fun.

Anya’s thoughts were soon ruined by the sound of more people arriving to join her by the fire. Anya looked to see the bubbly guest, with her friends and fellow creatures. The smell of hot chocolate, spiced apple cider, and the fresh outdoors in their wake was nauseatingly sweet. It was enough to make Anya wave at a passing waiter and then point at her mug to order another double rum toddy as she finished hers off. She had a feeling she was going to want several to help her get through the evening without killing someone.

Anya smiled brightly at the waiter as he exchanged her empty mug for a full one. This was not the type of evening she had hoped for, and, from the conversations going on around her, she was certain it was going to go from bad to worse. Still, she didn’t want to go up to her room to hide in solitary confinement, either. For this reason alone, Anya sat pretending to be interested in the chatter of these chipmunks who invaded her territory in front of the fire and put up with their gaiety. Soon the room was filled with people playing instruments while others sang Christmas carols, laughing and chattering with each other. Anya gave in to the inevitable and joined the party going on around her. She might be adding her voice to the mix, but it didn’t mean she had to do it sober.

As Anya sang the proper words to the carol they were singing, her thoughts wandered to other words she had replaced them with a child. Of course, this couldn’t be done as an adult. Anya could only begin to imagine the looks she would get if she began to sing the words that were now going through her mind. “Jingle Bells, shotgun shells, rabbits on the run. Oh what fun it is to shoot a rabbit in the bum.” Of course, these words were followed by various versions of her idea of what to do with a certain bouncing blonde who was leading everyone in song. It was almost enough to make Anya consider getting her own beautiful locks darkened, just to allow her some distance from the airhead standing before her.

As midnight grew closer, Anya rose from her spot by the fire and went up to her room. First, she wanted to go over her notes. She also wanted to sleep off the memories of this evening. As far as Anya was concerned, everyone here could ski themselves over a cliff. Maybe, Anya thought, as she crawled in bed with her journal in hand, she would wake to find the merrymakers preparing to leave. Doubtful, but the wish gave her a warm fuzzy feeling deep inside. Anya then opened up her book and began to write.

There is no doubt in my mind that the mountain described in Haltom’s notes is within walking range of the chalet where I am staying. I had first thought it was closer, and that the place I booked was actually on it, but this is not the case. This mountain is the next one over. So, tomorrow, I plan to ski to the bottom of this one and catch a lift to the upper part of the neighboring resort. When I am there, I will go exploring. I found out what I needed to know about that mountain yesterday, and I am sure I will find who I am looking for then.

Putting her journal aside, she thought about the unadorned mountaintop next to the one she was on and wondered if she had booked a room in the wrong resort. But, it still seemed to be working out for the best. As she drifted into sleep, she added another item to her list of thoughts. If only these damned merrymakers would dry up and blow away, I can do my job in peace.”

Anya didn’t want to think about the eighteen-inch base that was forming outside. If she thought about it, it would only make her trip that much more difficult. White gold indeed, Anya snorted, as she remembered hearing the phrase on her way up the mountain. Anya could think of no bank that would accept it as currency, and the only white gold she had a use for was inlaid with diamonds and emeralds.