“Sounds nice,” Harley says, distracted by everything that’s going on around her and in her mind. Harley pauses. If I leave, I can’t come back. Matron wouldn’t allow it. And I haven’t fulfilled my goal—yet. She thinks about James, how he said he was leaving. How she hasn’t gotten him—yet.
From the back staircase, two voices echo. “Hey? Anyone home?” Melissa and Harley turn.
Before they see who it is, Harley turns to the countess and earl. “Yes! I’ll come. I’ll go, I mean—with you. To Nevis.”
From the front porch, Luke and Diggs give each other the high five. Luke pokes his face inside before trekking to the Main House. “Excellent decision, Harls. You won’t regret it.”
“You know at least we won’t!” Diggs chimes in.
“Shut up!” Luke elbows Diggs.
Diggs explains, giving a conspiratorial look. “Luke’s just happy you’re not disappearing. Two in one week would be too much!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harley asks, her mouth still smiling over her decision.
Luke sighs. “Let’s just say fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“What he means,” Diggs offers, “is that Celia Sinclair is on her way to rehab. Too much of this, too much of that … her agent booked her into Sunny Palms.”
“You win some, you lose some, I guess,” Harley says as the boys leave. The reality of her choice hits again. “How psyched am I? I’m going to Nevis!”
Melissa, having paused for a minute of relief that Celia won’t be a presence at Holiday Week, finds herself reeling from the shock of Harley’s announcement. “Nevis?” she blurts out. “Nevis is …
“In the West Indies, I know.” Harley begins to throw herself into the decision. “I have to go pack. Actually, I might need to buy clothes—I didn’t exactly plan for the beach.”
“Oh, we’ll give you money for that,” the countess says. “Just say your farewells and we’re off. We’ll wait for you by the Main House. Max may or may not be joining us; we’re waiting for his decision.”
Dove’s decision, Melissa thinks, suddenly realizing what may or may not be happening downstairs. “Harley—” Melissa’s voice is firm.
“What?” Harley flits around, so excited about more travel—one more step ahead, away from where she’s come. “Don’t say anything…. Don’t be the downer on my sudden festivities.”
“I’m not. I’m all for spontaneity. Just—you do realize what Nevis is, right?” Melissa raises her eyebrows and puts her hand on her hips, hoping Harley will say something. When she doesn’t, Melissa continues. “It’s an island….”
“Thanks for the geography lesson, Mel, but I’m kind of in a rush.”
“Well, just so you know, I don’t think Dove’s going to take this well.”
“Dove’s fine—she can stand on her own. Besides, it’s not as though she’s totally present here. Don’t you think she’s a little distracted?” She pauses long enough to let Melissa know Harley’s aware of Max. “I mean, half of her is off with William, anyway.”
“Exactly,” Melissa says, wondering if it’s really one half, or just one fourth. Then she whispers, “Nevis—the small island where you’re headed for sun and fun. That’s where William is. That’s supposed to be their special reunion spot.”
Harley stops in her tracks. She’s about to say something when the clomping footsteps from downstairs sound again and voices boom up with them. “Hello?”
Diggs, Luke, Jemma, and their parents have gone, but two other voices shout up, “Can we come in? Are the monies gone?”
Monies was a staff moniker for guests—those who pay. “Come on in,” Melissa shouts.
“I’m going to Nevis!” Harley says, jumping up and down. She looks at Melissa, first apologetic, then just happy. “I’m sorry to leave you like this—in the lurch—but maybe you’ll get to be host. And Dove … she’ll get over it. It’s not like I know William—or like I did this on purpose. It’s just a weird coincidence.”
“Maybe,” Melissa says. “I did read a lot of articles about Nevis being a hot spot right now….” Melissa sighs. The truth is, she thinks, no one can protect you from the truth. Or from your past. Or from coincidence. Whatever happens, happens, and you just have to wade through to find what it is you’re looking for. Who knew that I’d wind up liking Gabe again this year after everything that happened last year? And who knew that liking him would help me put to rest any feelings for the guy Harley likes—for James. Even though he’s a dream catch. “We’ll miss you though.” Suddenly with the thought that Harley won’t be here, Melissa realizes she could have kept her crush on James, even if it wouldn’t have led anywhere. But now there’s Gabe—Gabe who wrapped her up on the mountaintop and who folded her laundry. In her mind, she melds the two of them together; wishing both of them liked her. Oh well, they don’t. And I’m happy to be starting something with Gabe….
“Seriously—maybe you’ll be host.” Harley grabs items of hers from around the room. And maybe I’ll find more than just another hosting gig on Nevis. I deserve love, don’t I? If James were staying at Les Trois, that’d be a different story. But he’s leaving. And he was my reason for coming here.
“Host? That doesn’t sound bad,” Melissa says. In fact, I could get used to free time, toting people around to parties, having nice dinners cooked for me. Sleeping past dawn.
“Hey there campers.” Gabe bursts into the room, filling it with blond light and his huge smile. Melissa feels that split—one half? One fourth? One third? Who can say—part of her lighting up in his presence. It’s only when he’s joined by JMB that she starts to compare and contrast. But what’s the point of doing that when JMB is so far out of reach? Or maybe I’m kidding myself and Gabe’s not a sure bet, either—he hasn’t exactly made a statement about what our mountaintop reunion meant.
JMB follows, checking out the room. “I could so get used to this place,” he says. “Remind me why Coach makes us stay at the hotel?”
“Because you’d trash the place,” Harley says, sounding very familiar with them.
“They wouldn’t trash it.” Melissa steps in. “They’d just rather hang out in it than be on the slopes—that’s the reason.”
JMB nods. “You got it.”
“Yeah,” Gabe says. “You sure have us pegged.”
“Well, too bad you’re leaving—guess you won’t have to feel like you’re missing out on everything,” Harley says to James.
James grabs a croissant from the breakfast buffet and rips off a piece. “No—that’s cancelled.”
“You’re not going?” Melissa asks, hope rising in her voice. Oh my god, I hope that didn’t sound totally obvious.
“But I thought …” Harley stammers.
“The race was changed. They’ve decided to have it here. Next week—during the holidays—the camera crews think it’ll be better viewing, with the crowds and stuff.”
Melissa stares at JMB. James. I wish I could tell him how I feel. She looks at Gabe. But what about him? Not that he’s a fallback guy. He’s not. He’s too good for that. And James is—how did Gabe phrase it? Smitten. Utterly, totally smitten. The doorbell rings and standing there is Charlie, grinning and waving. Of course, Melissa thinks, so sure that she almost blurts it aloud. He’s in love with Charlie.
“I have to go,” Harley says, tears in her eyes for the first time. What if I miss them? What if I miss James too much? What if … There are too many what ifs. She can feel part of her firm interior start to crumble and she’s determined not to let that weakness show. She pinches the skin between her thumb and pointer finger—an old pageantry trick to stop the tears.
Melissa turns. “Are you sure?”
Harley shakes her head. “I’m not sure—but I said yes….”
Melissa bites her lip. “Maybe it’s for the best?”
“Well, boys, if you feel like getting a real tan—or hitting the surf … look me up,” Harley says. Melissa stares at her.
H
arley and Melissa back away from Gabe, away from James, and away from Charlie, who comes in and hugs both guys. Downstairs, Dove and Max are still talking, and Melissa wonders what the outcome of their conversation will be. “You might be right. I mean, I probably should just go to Nevis. When will I ever get another chance to do that, anyway?”
Melissa nods. “They say Changeover Day is crazy—but this is …”
“I know,” Harley says. “Probably I should go. Definitely, right? I mean, I found out that he likes someone, anyway.”
Melissa looks back at the group in the living room. “Yeah? I heard that, too. Someone with a foreign name.”
“French, maybe. Or Croatian.” Harley tucks a curl behind Melissa’s ear. “I’ll go to Nevis … and you’ll be here with Dove. Gabe’ll just be … Gabe.” She pauses, making Melissa wonder if there’s more about Gabe she doesn’t yet know. “And James? My James? The reason I came here?”
“He’ll be off with …,” Melissa starts.
“With some girl.” Harley grimaces.
“Charlie. I know. At least she’s nice, though, right?” Melissa looks at Harley. Then she explains. “Her real name’s Karlotta—you say it with a rolling r. Thus, the foreign thing. I’ve known—I just didn’t want to say….” Melissa feels badly for Harley, but maybe worse for herself—that her original feelings weren’t met with matching tones.
“Charlie?” Harley shakes her head. “That’s not the name—”
“What name?” asks Dove, coming up from behind on the stairwell.
“What happened?” Melissa asks Dove. Dove doesn’t say. “And yeah, if it’s not Charlie, who is it?”
Right then Melissa gets it. Not Charlie. Not Karlotta. Not even Harley, which could sound foreign in its own way. She smacks her head. “Celia Sinclair.”
Harley rolls her eyes. Dove, Melissa, and Harley lean forward, the three whispering. Harley sighs. “You would think someone like Celia Sinclair would be the obvious choice.” Melissa looks at Dove, who gives her an understanding look. “But Celia’s not it, either.” Harley stands up, breaking their triangle. I have nothing to lose, she thinks, I’m leaving. Why not go out with a bit of a bam? She raises her voice. “The one who claimed his heart?” She jumps over to James, pointing right to his chest. “The girl who got this guy hooked?”
Charlie waits, hoping her name will come out of Harley’s mouth. Melissa stands with her hands in her pockets, swaying from nerves. Dove bubbles with her own decision. “This guy’s hell-bent on getting his love to love him back.”
Gabe interrupts. “What’s with all the drama?”
“What’s your deal, Harley?” James asks. But he can’t hide a blooming blush.
“I’m saying—you might as well let it out, James. You like her.” Gabe shuffles his feet, looking down as though he lost something.
“Who?” Melissa asks. She can’t wait any longer. She pictures dodging James and his woman now and into Holiday Week, when everyone says the atmosphere just gets more intense.
“Why do you care?” Gabe sidles up to Melissa. He gives her a peck on the cheek, trying to claim some territory that’s not been formally announced.
“I don’t,” Melissa says, lying and sure it shows.
“You don’t?” James asks. “And here I thought this whole resort was partially powered on gossip.” He shakes his head and starts to walk away.
“Hey—James,” Harley shouts. Her mouth twists to the side, betraying any innocence. She knows perfectly well who James is after but refuses to cough it up. “I’m leaving for Nevis.” To everyone she waves as she moves toward the stairs. “See you around!” Then, just when the air has started to settle, she darts back up. “And James? Good luck …”
“Thanks,” he says from the doorway. He shoots her a look, solidifying that he knows what she knows. He stammers. “Right. Good luck for us, for the race. The big race—Holiday Week …” He looks at Gabe—his teammate—and Melissa, and Dove, and Charlie—and gives a weak smile.
“Good luck with Mesilla, I mean!” Harley shouts from downstairs. Pleased with herself, she smirks and rushes off, leaving everyone else to deal with the fallout.
Melissa feels her pulse race, like an engine in one of those car ads—zero to sixty in mere seconds. James stands in the open door—all of the resort and its possibilities behind him. He likes me? He likes Mesilla. I’m Mesilla. Melissa tries to sort it all out in her head. And Harley doesn’t know I’m Mesilla. But she’s leaving. Dove comes to Melissa’s side, the only one in the room who understands what’s happening.
Gabe steps toward the door to follow James, his expression slightly pained, as though dealing with his best friend’s romantic overtures is too much. He sighs. James flicks him a look to keep him quiet. Gabe starts to open his mouth in protest but then bites his tongue. “We have practice—and then the insanity of Holiday Week sets in—New Year’s and all that.” He looks at Melissa, then hands her something. “Here’s your ID—in case you were looking for it.”
“You found it?” Melissa takes it, remembering when she dropped it outside, talking with Dove.
“I found it—and I kept it….” Gabe looks at the floor, then to Melissa’s mouth, then to James in the doorway. “He said he liked a Mesilla—I didn’t know it was you. Until just now. I mean, how could I?”
Melissa is so tongue-tied she doesn’t know what to do. “Gabe!” He turns back to her but she doesn’t go on. “I …”
She pauses long enough for both guys to walk—not together—but out the door into the bright white snow.
“Oh. My. God,” Melissa whispers to Dove. “I have to do something!”
Dove squeezes her hand. “I know … you do. We all do. I have all of five minutes to decide if Max stays the week—and if he does, if it means he’s with me—or not.”
“Well, what do you think?”
Dove puts her hands on her face. “Max is more than a memory, but I’m so caught. If only William were here … it’d be so much easier.” She looks through her fingers at Melissa. “But I won’t be anywhere near Will until I land in the West Indies.”
“But Harley will be—you could have her report back …,” Melissa suggests.
Dove sighs, and smiles. “This is so crazy—this day is so incredibly crazy…. If only there were a scale for love. You could plunk your heart down and have some accurate measurement of how you feel.”
Melissa looks at The Tops—the big room—where Gabe, James, and Charlie, Max, she, and Dove are all splintering from. She can hear Harley slamming doors and packing downstairs. “Isn’t that better known as figuring out your feelings?” She sighs, chewing on her lower lip. “This is crazy, though,” Melissa says. “Any future I have with Gabe and James is totally up in the air—or on the slopes—we don’t have a host, and the new guests arrive tomorrow. It’s all a bit more than I can handle.”
“Well, we’ll have to,” Dove says. “Together.” She looks around at the forgotten gloves, stray books, and empty coffee mugs on the sideboard—the detritus of the past session. “Bonkers, ridiculous week,” she says again.
Melissa nods. “And it’s only morning. We have the whole day to get through. And there’s another whole week ahead.”
Turn the page to continue reading from the Chalet Girls series
1
“WHAT ARE YOU GOING to do?” Melissa asks Dove as they walk toward the meet-and-greet party in the main house. Melissa keeps her voice low but can’t hide the intense curiosity. She waits for Dove’s response and surveys the scene around her.
The resort of Les Trois Alpes shimmers with the glow of the holidays that will unfold this week. Private jets land on the strip, each one filled with people expecting the very best from their mountain retreats. The famous and their hangers-on arrive by helicopter and chauffeured car, while the staff at Les Trois Alpes tries to anticipate the guests’ every wish, stocking the suites with Egyptian high-thread-count sheets, fresh flowers, luxury chocolates, and vintage wines.
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br /> While their own dramas are about to unfold, Dove and Melissa know that the holiday week ahead is crucial in terms of tips and connections, the pressure turned on full blast for the Chalet Girls and their seemingly endless work. Holiday festivity is the theme all around them: Christmas lights twinkle from the large pine trees, illuminating the cold night air. Wreaths adorn the doors of each chalet they pass, and gentle music streams from the Main House. It would be magical, Melissa thinks, if only I had someone to share it with. If that someone hadn’t bolted at the first sign of conflict.
“I don’t know.” Dove’s voice is filled with doubt. “What am I supposed to do about this whole mess? It’s crazy—I feel like my world could change in a matter of minutes.” She thinks about her longtime boyfriend, William, far from the Alps all the way in the West Indies on the small island of Nevis. “Will’s so great. Such a charmer. I really miss him. He’s light and sunny and …” She stops herself from gushing. Why do I feel as though I have to sell everyone on how amazing Will is? First I tried with my parents and they didn’t get it. And with friends, I have to relay all the info about him. I guess that’s the way it is with long-distance things. You don’t have the luxury of showing off love in person. Or enjoying it yourself on a daily basis.
“But then there’s Max,” Melissa reminds Dove, staring at her friend’s cool reserve. At home in Melbourne, Australia, Melissa would never have been friends with someone like Dove—someone so poised and posh. Even though Dove spent all of last week scrubbing toilets and mopping mud-caked floors, she still managed to be alluring. Meanwhile I managed to burn toast, fry meat when it should have been braised, and generally need guidance in all things cooking related. But at least I learned a few kitchen tricks…. Not to mention one or two non-food-related … Melissa wonders if this week will be as demanding as the last. On the one hand, she isn’t quite as green and knows how to stock the pantry. But on the other hand, Holiday Week comes with rumors of major expectations and big requirements—like the woman last year who wanted a champagne bath poured for her each night, and the guy who insisted on never eating the same food twice.
Balancing Acts Page 21
