by Astor, Marie
What have I gotten myself into? thought Maggie, the palms of her hands getting damp with perspiration.
Suddenly, she saw a couple of skiers deftly make their way down the daunting slope without as much as a pause; by their coats and helmets she recognized Millie and Phil. Those two again, Maggie cringed at the thought of another unwelcome chat. But her worry was unwarranted: Phil and Millie were clearly too absorbed by their skiing to notice her. Filled with unexpected admiration, Maggie watched as the two flew down the almost vertical incline in a series of short, controlled turns.
If a seventy-something couple can do it, I can do it, thought Maggie, edging her skis to begin her descent.
Halfway through the turn, she felt her courage ebb. It’s so steep, she thought, feeling her limbs go helplessly numb with fear. Before she knew it, her skis were skidding out of control, her body suddenly jerking backwards; it took all her strength to retain her balance and bring the turn to a close. She made a sharp turn and pressed her skis into the steep uphill, giving herself time to regain her bearings. She looked down, hoping to spot Millie and Phil for much-needed encouragement, but the two had long disappeared from sight. Glancing up, Maggie saw the rest of the ski crowd still perched atop the cliff, as if waiting to see how she would fare against the steep slope. Take a deep breath, she thought, concentrate. She remembered how in a yoga class the teacher had advised a nerve calming technique that involved visualizing a challenge before attempting it. She closed her eyes and pictured herself gliding down the slope in precise, controlled turns, the same way Millie and Phil had done it. Now she was ready.
This time it was easier: she blocked all the emotions out of her mind as she navigated the mountain, keeping her turns in an even, measured pace akin to a pianist heeding a metronome. Focused only on the steep terrain before her, she cut through the rest of the incline in razor-sharp turns. A few moments later she saw the rest of the trail unfold before her in a smooth, wide line - she could ski the rest of the slope with her eyes closed.
Still panting with exhaustion, Maggie made her way to the café that was located across from the ski lift. She kicked off her skis and after propping them against the railing that ran along the front steps, ambled inside.
A few minutes later she was seated at a table, savoring a cup of hot chocolate and a muffin – she was famished after the strenuous descent.
Chapter 5
Standing on the steps of the café, Maggie checked her cell phone again and felt a twinge of disappointment when she saw that there were no messages from Jeffrey. She dialed his number, but got his voicemail again and decided not to leave a message this time. Clearly, he was having too good a time to have a need for her to join him; unless… Her mind raced with worry – what if Jeffrey had gotten into an accident? Knowing Jeffrey’s penchant for showing off, the scary possibility was not too farfetched and that would certainly explain his silence. Maggie hurriedly dialed Charlie’s number – surely he would know if anything went wrong, but got his voicemail as well. Now she was starting to get really anxious –what was she supposed to do? As a last resort, she dialed Bethany’s number and was relieved to hear her friend’s voice in the receiver.
“Maggie! I was just going to call you. You’ve got to check out the spa here! I’ve just had the best massage of my life, and then, I followed it up with a seaweed wrap. I feel like I’m floating on air.”
“Bethany, have you heard from Charlie?” Maggie struggled to keep the irritation out of her voice: for all she knew, something terrible could have happened to Jeffrey and Charlie, and she had no patience for Bethany’s blabber about massages and facials.
“Why, yes, he called me half an hour ago and said that he and Jeffrey would be back about five today. It had something to do with last minute details for this documentary Jeffrey is so crazy about. Didn’t Jeffrey tell you?’
“No, he didn’t, but it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad that they are all right. I was beginning to worry.”
“Jeffrey probably just got busy or something - you know how he’s been stressing about this project.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Hey, what are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“I don’t know – probably just going back to the hotel. I think I’ve had enough skiing for the day.”
“Do you want to check out the resort? We could go shopping.”
“Give me an hour. I want to shower and change first.”
“Sounds good to me. Meet you in the lobby in an hour.”
Back in her room, Maggie took out her camera and examined the photos of the mysterious skier she had taken while riding on the lift. She was always critical of her own work, but even she had to admit that there was something uncanny about these photos. She might not have had the perfect equipment with her, but the images brimmed with life.
A gamut of conflicting feelings rose inside her: curiosity and longing to experience the boundless sense of freedom that the skier on the photo exuded, and, regret at the thought that she did not have the guts to attempt the same. Maggie shook her head at the ridiculousness of her thoughts: why ski off-piste where the terrain was filled with crevasses and rocks when there were countless perfectly good groomed slopes to choose from? One had to be either reckless or incredibly conceited to flirt with danger like that.
An hour later Maggie was waiting for Bethany in the lobby of the Ritz. She poured herself some complimentary Godiva hot chocolate from the thermos that stood on a serving table near the reception desk and took a seat in a deep leather armchair by the fireplace. Her legs were beginning to tingle with fatigue from all the skiing she had done earlier in the day, and Maggie stretched lazily, relishing the languid warmth of the fire in her tired muscles.
Finally, twenty minutes later, Maggie heard the tick-tock of high heels against the hardwood lobby floor: a sound that she was fairly certain had to belong to Bethany since not too many women would be impractical enough to sport high heels at a ski resort.
“There you are!” Bethany plopped into the opposite chair. She was dressed in skinny jeans, high-heeled leather boots, and an off-the-shoulder top – a look that would have been perfect for the Manhattan bar scene. “Sorry I’m late – I think the clock is slow in our room.”
Maggie nodded. “No worries.” Bethany was never on time, but it was a small vice in the grand scheme of things.
“So, what do you want to do?” Bethany examined her nails. “I think they botched up the manicure job,” she mumbled.
“Do you want to take a walk around the village?”
“Not too far though.” Bethany motioned at her pointy-toed, high-heeled boots.
“Sure, fine. We’ll just walk through the stores in the village.” Maggie refrained from commenting on her friend’s impractical attire, as she looked down at her own warm, comfortable snow boots. In a nutshell, that was the difference between her and Bethany. Their personalities could not have been more opposite, and yet, somehow, their friendship had held true through the years.
“Here is the map. You are much better with directions than I am.” Bethany shoved the map into Maggie’s hands.
Maggie unfolded the map, used to her role. Bethany was terrible with directions and Maggie was always there to plan the route of their trips and remember where they parked the car. In school, Bethany hated science. Come to think of it, she hated most of the subjects, and Maggie was always there to lend a hand, or to be more specific, let her friend copy her homework. In turn, Bethany gladly let Maggie bask in the halo of her popularity. After all, had it not been for Bethany’s insistence that Maggie come to Charlie’s birthday party two years ago, Maggie would have never met Jeffrey, not to mention never gotten engaged to him. Now, she had the perfect life, and she had her best friend to thank for it.
“Let’s see here…” Maggie traced her finger along the map, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. She had been perfectly happy in the morning. Okay, fine, maybe not perfectly happy, but at least content. Som
ething had changed since then: something she could not put her finger on. She felt stifled. Yes, that was the exact word for it.
Her glance wandered to the building on the very edge of the resort map. Owl Lodge, read the sign next to the building. Instantly, the image of the off-piste skier Maggie had photographed earlier in the day sprang up in her mind. She remembered her conversation with the elderly couple she had met on the ski lift: Phil and Millie were their names, weren’t they? They had said that anyone could ski off-piste with the right guide and training. Again she wondered what it would be like to ski the towering peaks she had witnessed from the ski lift. All she wanted to do was to see what the place was like and maybe talk to a ski guide to see if she could take a lesson. Of course Jeffrey would not be crazy about the idea, but at the moment Maggie did not want to think about that. Almost immediately a plan formed in her mind. “Okay, I got it. Let’s go.” Maggie jumped up from her chair as she folded the map and stuck it into the pocket of her jacket.
The Ritz, along with the other upscale hotels and restaurants of the ski resort, was located in the area next to the main gondola, forming what was known as Eagleville ski village. However, the real Eagleville had little to do with this bright, artificial concoction of four star hotels and model houses. Every winter, die-hard skiers from around the world would flock to Eagleville to scale the untamed snows of its mountains, proving time and time again that the impossible could be made possible, and it would never occur to such skiers, regardless of their finances, to stay in any of the flashy hotels in the village. Instead, they headed for the Owl Lodge. The Owl Lodge was located only a short walk away from the air tram that led to the off-piste terrain and was the place to find out about ski guides and lessons, snow conditions, and everything one needed to know about skiing off-piste.
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” demanded Bethany as she ambled though the shin-deep snow in her high-heeled boots and huge fur coat. “I’m not dressed for this, you know.”
“I’m pretty sure,” Maggie replied. By now, she was wracked with guilt, regretting her impulsive decision to drag Bethany to the other side of the resort. At the time, deceit had seemed like the only option since she highly doubted that Bethany would have agreed to accompany her to the Owl Lodge if the destination had been revealed to her. Of course, Maggie could have just as easily gone on her own, but she knew that she would not: for reasons she could not put into words, her stomach twisted in nervous knots at the thought of going alone, and Bethany’s company was the only company she had at the moment.
“Maggie, let me see the map!” Bethany panted. “There isn’t a store in sight – if anything, I think we’re walking in the opposite direction of the village.”
Reluctantly, Maggie handed the map over to Bethany.
“I knew it!” Bethany exclaimed triumphantly as she peered at the map. “We’ve been walking in the wrong direction – even I can see that!” Bethany threw a suspicious glance at Maggie.
“Are you sure? Let me see that map again.” Maggie grasped for straws to prolong the charade – she could spot the building of the Owl Lodge only a few steps away. “Gee, I think you’re right. I don’t know what came over me: I was certain that we were walking in the right direction.”
“I can’t walk all the way back now!” Bethany whined. “I’ve got to take a break! What’s that building over there?” Bethany pointed to the Owl Lodge. “Maybe we could get a cup of coffee there?”
“Let’s go take a look.”
“Oh, God, what is this place?” Bethany gasped as they got closer to the Owl Lodge. “It sure doesn’t look like a coffee shop.”
“Well, we came all the way down here, might as well check it out.” Maggie pulled open the front door.
“Yeah, I guess we don’t have much of a choice now.” Bethany limped inside. “If I had known that I’d end up being lost in this dump, I would have stayed at the hotel,” she added.
“It’s not so bad. And look, I think there’s some coffee over there.” Maggie pointed to the coffee dispenser that stood by the reception desk. “Come on.”
Maggie had to admit that the Owl Lodge was nowhere near as opulent as the Ritz, and, yet, she liked it instantly - there was something in its atmosphere, something she could not quite put into words. While the Owl Lodge did not have any of the extravagances of the Ritz, it was warm and cozy and full of character: a giant fireplace in the center of the lobby made one want to cuddle up in the roomy leather armchairs that stood by its sides. There were pictures of famous skiers and wilderness explorers everywhere. A pair of enormously long wooden skis that looked to be at least a century old served as a centerpiece for the vast collection of outdoor paraphernalia that adorned the lodge’s sturdy, wooden walls.
“Why don’t you have a seat over there?” Maggie pointed to a large leather armchair by the fireplace. “And I’ll get us some coffee.”
“Okay, but hurry up – I’m freezing.”
Maggie made her way to the information desk - luckily it was located next to the coffee dispenser. As she poured a cup of coffee, her glance wondered in the direction of the bulletin board.
The bulletin board was filled with countless notices and announcements, but the one that drew Maggie’s attention was a picture of a skier flying down an endless expanse of snow. Taylor Denton having another great day on the mountain, said the caption next to the picture. Maggie stared at the photo, as though she were frozen still. The skier in the photo was wearing helmet and goggles, but the same confident grin shone on his face, the same golden ponytail flew down his shoulders, and the same neon jacket covered his back.
Now, she had a name to connect with the face, and, suddenly, Maggie realized the true reason why she had been so nervous about coming to the Owl Lodge.
Chapter 6
“What’s taking you so long?” Maggie heard Bethany’s whining behind her back and turned around abruptly, almost spilling the coffee on Bethany’s boots.
“Watch it!” Bethany snatched the cup from Maggie’s hands. “These are Stuart Weitzman boots, and they are already almost ruined by the stupid snow. Ugh, this coffee sucks.” Bethany grimaced as she swallowed a mouthful. “But at least it’s hot. Now, how are we going to get out of here?”
“Hold on, let me go ask that girl behind the desk.”
“I’m coming with you,” Bethany insisted.
Behind the information desk sat a red-haired girl in her early twenties, reading a magazine and loudly clicking her chewing gum. Her bright red hair was plaited in two braids; the flushed color of her freckled face made it clear that she must have just gotten off the slopes. “How can I help you?” asked the girl, tossing the magazine aside.
I was wondering if I could get some information about off-piste skiing, was what Maggie really wanted to ask, but what she did say was, “I’m afraid we’ve gotten lost – could you help us find the way back to the main village?”
“Sure,” the girl clicked her gum for umpteenth time. “Hang on, let me find a map.” She rummaged through the cluttered desk.
“Here, we have one,” Bethany cut in, snatching the map from Maggie’s side pocket. “Now, how do we get back to the Ritz?”
The girl was about to show them the directions when the door behind the desk opened, releasing sounds of male voices and footsteps. “Hang on a moment,” the girl mumbled distractedly, looking over her shoulder.
“We haven’t got all day!” exclaimed Bethany, but stopped short as her eyes widened in surprise. “Jeffrey?”
“Maggie! Bethany! What are you doing here?” Jeffrey walked toward them.
“We got lost!” Bethany exclaimed, “But now it seems that we are saved.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” confirmed Maggie, suppressing a smile – Bethany was always eager to play a damsel in distress.
“But seriously, Maggie, what are you doing here?” Jeffrey’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“We were going to go shopping in the village, but s
omehow I took the wrong turn, and we ended up here,” Maggie recited the prepared excuse. “Did you have a good time on the mountain today?”
“Yes.” Jeffrey looked away guiltily. “I was going to call you, but then things got in the way – we needed to finish up some last minute details for the project.”
“I thought you said that filming would not start until two weeks from now,” Maggie retorted – not that she did not understand the importance of Jeffrey’s work, she did, but this was supposed to be their engagement trip, and so far, it was shaping up to be anything but that.
“Technically we don’t start shooting until two weeks from now, but there are a lot of loose ends to tie up, and I thought we might get a head start. Look, we’ll talk about it later, all right?” Jeffrey added hurriedly as the side door opened again, and Charlie emerged, accompanied by two more men.
“Hi, babe!” Charlie planted a kiss on Bethany. “What a pleasant surprise. I missed you all day.”
As much as she hated to admit it, Maggie felt a prick of jealousy at the fact that Charlie didn’t question Bethany about what she was doing at the Owl Lodge, but was simply glad to see her. However, presently, Maggie’s attention was distracted by the other two men who stood next to Charlie, or, to be more specific, by one man in particular: he had shoulder-length golden blond hair tied in a ponytail, dazzling green eyes and a wide, confident grin. He looked to be about twenty-three or twenty-four, and his handsome face was flushed from being outside all day. The other man was older, probably in his early thirties; he was tall and willowy, with dark hair and dark brown eyes.
