Christmas at the Chalet

by Anita Hughes

  Nell turned the paper over. “She loves to browse in the boutiques, and can’t stand smoky nightclubs. If I can keep them apart all week and make them see how immature they’re being, they might change their minds about attending the wedding.”

  “You would have made a great double agent in World War Two. I hope it works,” Felicity said admiringly. “I should go. All the shops in the village are going to be crowded, and Raj wants us to meet to go to Alp Grüm at five o’clock.”

  Felicity walked through the lobby and thought that whoever had nicknamed the Grand Hall “The Catwalk” was right. She’d never imagined après-ski wear could be so fashionable. Women wore cigarette pants and ski parkas and knee-high boots. She would have to scribble down the designer names so Raj could mention them on Instagram.

  Yesterday she’d believed that the mountains were magical, and that her collection was going to be a success. Now she couldn’t think about anything but Adam telling her they should take a break. How could she spend all week working on her designs for Bergdorf’s and shuttling the models between carriage rides and toboggan races, when all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball?

  Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she stumbled onto the terrace. She shouldn’t be thinking about Adam at all. She should be drawing the sketches for Camilla and going over the itinerary for tonight’s activities. But she was glad she had to run some errands in the village. Her head was blurry from the alcohol, and it felt good to get some fresh air. Seeing the icicles dangling on the fir trees and listening to the soft chatter in French and German was strangely soothing.

  She let herself out the side gate and kept walking. The cocktails must have been stronger than she’d thought, or maybe it was just the high altitude. Her legs were wobbly, and her ears felt as if they were stuffed with cotton wool.

  Suddenly there was a whizzing sound and she looked up. A sled was careening down the mountain toward her. The driver waved his hand and yelled in German for her to move. She tried to get out of the way, but he was coming too fast. At the last minute, she jumped out of the sled’s path and slipped and fell backward onto the snow.

  “Are you all right?” A man ran over to her. “Some of those tourists should be put in jail, they think they’re behind the wheel of a race car. Thank God the sled didn’t run you over.”

  Felicity blinked and opened her eyes. She looked up and recognized the doctor who’d bandaged her ankle.

  “Oh, it’s you!” she said, and wondered why he seemed so fuzzy. “I heard someone yelling, and suddenly the sled was practically on top of me.” She tried to sit up and sank back onto the snow. “You must think I’m terribly stupid. I can’t seem to stay out of trouble, even in the daytime.”

  “I’m glad I was here. I was on my way to the hotel to check on some patients.” Gabriel crouched down beside her. “And I don’t think you’re stupid; it was the driver’s fault. I’m just happy you’re all right.”

  Felicity dusted snow from her turtleneck. There was a sharp pain between her shoulders, and her head felt like it was being pounded by a hammer.

  “I’m fine.” She tried to smile. “Though my clothes are soaked. I feel like I just took a bath in a tub of ice.”

  “Your cheeks are pale and you’re shivering,” he said. “Let’s get you inside and you can get out of those wet clothes.”

  “I can’t ask you to rescue me again,” she said, and noticed the ground was spinning. “I’ll sit here for a moment and then I’ll go back to the hotel.”

  “You can’t be too careful with a bump to the head. You might have a concussion.” He studied her carefully. “Why don’t I walk with you to your room, and you can warm up?”

  “I suppose that wouldn’t hurt,” Felicity murmured. “I do feel a little odd.”

  Suddenly the sun was too bright and there was a buzzing in her ears. She tried to sit up again, but the mountain seemed to curve in a strange shape, and it felt like she was moving away from Gabriel. She put out her arms and then everything went black.

  * * *

  “Where am I?” Felicity asked, wincing at the pain in her neck. She was lying on a sofa, covered by a thick blanket. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she recognized Gabriel hovering above her. His stethoscope was around his neck and his brow was furrowed.

  “You’re awake! You gave me quite a scare.” He let out his breath. “You blacked out and I carried you to your suite. Thankfully the concierge is a friend and told me your room number. Your blood pressure is normal, but you have a nasty bump on your head.”

  “It did hurt quite a lot,” Felicity admitted grudgingly. “Thank you for taking care of me. I’m feeling much better.”

  “You have to be careful with head injuries. You might feel all right now, but it can turn into a concussion.” He stood up and walked to the minibar. “Why don’t I make some coffee and rustle up something to eat? Nausea is a common side effect of a head injury, and it would be good to eat some cheese and crackers.”

  “Please don’t touch the minibar,” Felicity said weakly. “Raj doesn’t want any personal charges on the bill. One package of Toblerone chocolate cost more than extra baggage on the plane. I’m not really hungry, and my head feels fine. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly okay.”

  “Raj won’t mind if I heat up hot water and make tea. And there have to be some pastries around here somewhere. It’s Badrutt’s Palace; the maids always leave baskets of fresh fruit and nut tortes.”

  “A cup of tea sounds lovely,” she said gratefully. “But then I have to get up and get dressed. Raj scheduled a photo-op trip on the Rhaetian Railway to Alp Grüm, and I have to be at the train station in an hour.”

  She accepted the cup of tea and took a long gulp. The fog in her brain cleared, and it all came back to her: telling Adam that she wanted to get engaged, and Adam saying they should take a break. “I told Adam I want to get married, and he didn’t take it well. He said we should take a break and maybe see other people.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Gabriel said in surprise. “You told me you were practically engaged.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Felicity said. “He was terribly hurtful. He said I cared more about the wedding than I do about him.”

  “Here.” Gabriel opened his doctor’s kit and took out a bar of chocolate wrapped in red-and-gold paper. “This is a Côte d’Or: milk chocolate and pralines and nougat. It’s the best chocolate in the world; it can make anyone feel better.”

  Felicity ate it tentatively and wiped chocolate flakes from her mouth. “It’s delicious, but one piece of chocolate can’t fix everything. Do you believe in Christmas miracles?”

  “I don’t know; I hadn’t thought about it.” He shrugged.

  “Well, I do. It’s the most magical time of the year,” she answered. “I was so upset yesterday, and then you rescued me and gave me advice. I thought you were my guardian angel.”

  “No one has called me a guardian angel before.” He grinned. “I’m just a doctor with a slightly grumpy bedside manner.”

  “You were wonderful. And everyone has a guardian angel,” she commented. Suddenly her head felt heavy. “They just don’t appear until you really need them. I still don’t know what to do about Adam.” She looked at Gabriel thoughtfully. “You gave me good advice yesterday. What do you think I should say to him?”

  “You’re in no condition to worry about that now,” Gabriel answered. “You need to keep warm and get some sleep. I suggest you tell Raj that you’re going to skip the train to Alp Grüm and take a nap.”

  “The train did look as flimsy as those toy trains in the Christmas display at Bloomingdale’s,” she said, wavering. “And I am terribly tired. Maybe I’ll sit here for a while and close my eyes.”

  “That’s a much better idea.” Gabriel stood up. “It’s important to monitor your progress and make sure you don’t get any headaches. I want you to lie here and get plenty of rest. I’ll check on you tomorrow and see how you are.”

  “Thank you,�
�� she said drowsily. “You really are kind. But I don’t have time to rest. I have to finish some sketches and finalize details for the fashion show.”

  “None of that’s going to mean anything if this turns into a real concussion,” he countered. “The important thing is to empty your brain, try not to think about anything.”

  Images of Adam snapping at her on FaceTime blended with Camilla Barnes standing in her studio, and her heart started racing. How could she clear her mind when there were so many things to worry about?

  “Maybe you can help,” she suggested. “I read in the guidebook that the Swiss have lots of wonderful folktales. Could you tell me one?”

  “You want me to tell you a folktale?” he asked.

  “When I was a child, my mother used to read me fairy tales when I was sick.” She nodded. “It always put me to sleep.”

  “I suppose I could; I do know a lot of Swiss folktales. My mother used to tell me one called ‘The Haldenstein Maiden’s Tale.’” Gabriel sat beside her. “A beautiful maiden wearing a white gown sits by a lake near Haldenstein castle, dangling her hands in the water. A handsome young hunter approaches and sees that she is crying. He asks what is wrong, and she replies: ‘If you will hold my hand and not let go until I tell you, it will break the spell that was cast on me by a witch.’

  “The young man takes her hand and holds it in his own. At the same time, a little old man emerges from the castle and offers the hunter a jeweled basket full of gold. If he is to accept the gold, he will have to let go of the maiden’s hand. He turns down the gold, and the maiden beams with pleasure. ‘You have shown that you can be trusted! You can now let go of my hand and accept the gold as a symbol of my appreciation.’

  “The hunter turns to accept the basket, but when he turns around the maiden has vanished. All that is left is the daisy chain she was making and the white veil that had been on her head.”

  “What happened to the maiden?” Felicity asked. “Fairy tales are supposed to have happy endings. The maiden and the hunter kiss and ride off into the sunset on a white horse or something like that.”

  “I don’t know.” Gabriel shrugged. “My mother always closed the book there and insisted I go to bed.”

  “It was a nice story anyway.” Suddenly her eyes were heavy and she could barely stay awake.

  “You’d better get some rest.” Gabriel stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll leave a message with the concierge to tell Raj that you’re all right.”

  “Thank you,” Felicity said drowsily. “Could you do one more thing for me?”

  “What is it?”

  “Could you turn off the light?” she asked. “I can’t sleep when the room is so bright.”

  The door closed and Felicity ate the last bite of chocolate. It really was delicious, but it didn’t stop the ache in her heart and the feeling of emptiness that washed over her. She closed her eyes and pulled the blanket over her shoulders.

  Three

  Six Days Before the Fashion Show

  7:00 p.m.

  Nell

  NELL SAT IN THE BAR at the Carlton Hotel nibbling Brazil nuts and waited for her father. The hotel was perched above the lake, and French doors overlooked skaters bundled against the evening air. A white Christmas tree stood near the fireplace, and the lights of snow-covered chalets twinkled in the distance.

  She had picked her father up at the airport and dropped him off at his suite at the Kempinski Hotel. There had been a moment of panic when he suggested he stay at Badrutt’s Palace, and she worried about him running into her mother in the lobby. She quickly explained that the Palace was fully booked, and the Kempinski was better anyway: it was the closest hotel to the ski gondola, and served the most delicious breakfast buffet in St. Moritz. The spa was world-class, and there was an indoor swimming pool and Finnish sauna.

  She knew the indoor swimming pool would convince him; her father was passionate about exercise. Her earliest memories of him were with wet hair and a towel draped over his shoulders after swimming fifty laps in the pool. He maintained that you couldn’t think clearly unless you kept your body as well-tuned as a sports car. He rarely ate rich desserts, and the few times she’d visited his new house in Malibu, his pantry had been stocked with brown rice and quinoa.

  The real reason she’d chosen the Kempinski was that it was on the far side of St. Moritz. She guessed her mother wouldn’t go near the ski gondola, and she had never been fond of swimming. For Nell’s whole childhood, she’d sat on a longue by the pool and barely dipped her toes in the shallow end.

  Really, her parents were acting like children squabbling over a toy in the playground. How difficult could it be for them to sit in adjoining church pews at her wedding, when they’d shared a bedroom for twenty-eight years? Then she remembered the nights when her mother would toss her father’s pillow down the staircase and her father would retreat into the den. Or the mornings when the chill in the air at breakfast was so icy, a pot of Jamaican coffee couldn’t thaw it.

  A man stood at the entrance, and Nell recognized her father’s dark hair. He had always been handsome. It wasn’t just his green eyes, or the long eyelashes that he had passed on to her. It was the way he gave her his full attention. After the divorce, women hovered around them wherever they went: at an outdoor café in Malibu, or at a diner on the Lower East Side. He’d give them a quick smile, and then turn back to Nell and want to know everything: was she getting enough sleep, did she spend too much time on airplanes, and were she and Eliot happy and in love.

  “Nell!” Todd squeezed between the tables. He was wearing a wool overcoat, and held a gold box. “I’m sorry I’m late. I picked up something for you in the village.”

  “You gave me a Christmas present when you arrived.” Nell pushed her hair from her ears. “The earrings are gorgeous; I’m wearing them.”

  “I did choose well. The emeralds match your eyes.” He beamed. “I had to buy this for you, it’s from the House of Lamm. I haven’t been there in twenty-eight years. They sell the finest après-ski couture in the world.”

  Nell unwrapped the tissue paper and took out a magenta scarf.

  “It’s lovely.” She looked up and smiled. “You can’t give me a present every time we meet. I won’t have room in my closet.”

  “You wrap it around your neck; it doesn’t take up any room at all.” Todd picked up the menu. “You’re not used to the cold in the Alps. It makes winter temperatures in New York seem mild in comparison.”

  Nell placed the scarf in the box. “Thank you. It’s beautiful, and Raj will be thrilled that I’ll stay warm. He’s terrified of anyone getting sick before the fashion show.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” Todd said, and waved to the bartender. “We’ll have two glasses of Martell Cognac and a plate of Pasta Nicolai.” He turned to Nell. “It’s one of the Carlton’s specials. Fusilli pasta with vodka and tomato paste.”

  “The cognac sounds wonderful, but I really shouldn’t drink,” Nell said, wavering. “We have an early-morning photo shoot.”

  “I can’t drink alone, and we’re celebrating.” Todd closed the menu. “We finished filming ahead of schedule, and I get to spend six days with my daughter. The best part is I don’t have to worry about your mother calling to ask if I have her favorite Christmas ornament. Last year she accused me of stealing the papier-mâché angel you made when you were six. I told her she can come and inspect my tree herself.” He grinned like a boy who’d pulled a practical joke on his teacher. “She’d rather walk into the ocean than set foot in my new house.”

  “I’m sure the ornaments are in a box in her attic,” Nell said. “She must have forgotten.”

  “Your mother has an excellent memory. She can tell you the hour and minute you were born,” Todd scoffed. “She just doesn’t know how to throw things out. One of the greatest things about the divorce is starting fresh. My house is three thousand square feet of tile floors and floor-to-ceiling windows, and it will never overflow with books and knick
knacks like some overpriced thrift store.”

  Nell thought fondly of the house where she’d grown up. It was different than her friends’ houses, which had looked like they belonged in a magazine spread. Her mother had designed their home to be elegant and lived-in at the same time: a living room with high ceilings, and glass coffee tables scattered with books. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling in the kitchen, and the walls in the foyer were lined with original art.

  “I love her decor,” Nell said, defending her. “Most of my friends weren’t even allowed in their living rooms. I was never bored. There were books everywhere.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with books, unless you use them to avoid facing the problems in your marriage.” His eyes clouded over. “Every night she was glued to some paperback and barely looked up when I climbed into bed.” He sighed. “When she did say something, it was to ask me not to set my alarm too early, or to change my brand of toothpaste. She couldn’t stand the scent of mint.”

  Nell stabbed the olive in her martini. This wasn’t going well. She had to change the subject, or her father would get so upset, he’d never agree to attend the wedding.

  “Speaking of ornaments, one of my favorites is the snow globe of St. Moritz,” she began. “You bought it one year when you were filming a movie in Zurich.”

  “That was years ago, when your mother and I were still getting along.” Her father nodded. “Filming ran over, and I completely missed Christmas. I stopped in St. Moritz long enough to grab a snow globe and a pair of leather gloves at the hotel gift shop. I wanted to give your mother something to remind her of where we met.” He glanced around at the paneled walls and art-deco mirrors. “It was right here in this bar. I was a waiter, and she came in with a group of friends. God, she was beautiful. Twenty years old with blond hair and blue eyes.”