Chapter 4
December 23rd
“Thank you, Claire, for your work on the new airport plan. We’ve got everything set in motion now.” Patricia’s words were blunt. I was holding my breath, assuming her reason for calling me first thing that morning was to fire me. But she surprised me.
“The CEO was happy with the finishing touches on your design, such as the stone fireplaces in the cozy seating areas, and he wants you to explore the idea of designing an outdoor patio—something that will still be in a secured area for flyers to use after going through security. It’s a newer concept that his team would like to get a feel for. Of course, if you think this is too much right now considering everythingelse you have going on… And with it being December 23rd…,” she trailed off.
“No! I mean, it isn’t too much. I’d love nothing more than to work on this. Please send me the details and requirements, and I’ll get to it immediately.”
With my parents being out of town for the holidays in Alaska, and since they assumed I’d be with Theo, I had nothing on the docket whatsoever. I was grateful for the distraction. I did nothing for Christmas that year—didn’t even put up a tree. Why wouldn’t I work instead?
Hanging up the phone, I knew Patricia didn’t like me very much. Truthfully, I didn’t care for her either, but her being so cordial on the phone proved she was patted on the back by the higher ups, thanks to me. She was a high-powered businesswoman, and I knew I shouldn’t have missed so many days, but it was clear from the start that she didn’t care for me. It didn’t matter, though—not then, anyway. The relief spurred through my bones, and I felt like I could do cartwheels through my living room. I turned the volume up on my computer, so I could hear new emails arriving as I waited for the plans. I would turn that over as timely as possible to help secure my job, at least as long as I could.
The email from Patricia came seven minutes later, while I was pouring myself another cup of coffee from my worn French press, the same one I’d used since college. As I squeezed the last of its contents into my cup, I topped it off with a little cream from a handheld frother and raced back to my computer. It was time to get to work.
Patricia’s message was curt and to the point. “Here are the blueprints. Let’s see what you can do.”
That was it—no signature or anything. Though I hadn’t cared about anything but my heartbreak when I had gotten myself on that thin ice, since I was dealing with the repercussions, the situation became all butthreatening. But I could do it. It would be fine. I opened the blueprints and figured out the space’s ebb and flow, which wasn’t clear at first, but once I understood that, designing would be a breeze.
My process for designing was immersive. If possible, I wanted to be at the site in question, and that would normally mean I needed to make a quick trip out to the airport to see where that space would go. But I was short on time. I needed to do it entirely from memory. I closed my eyes and remembered the town that used to be where the giant airport currently was before the wrecking ball had come through andtorn it down in favor of a shiny new town owned by the ski resort.
“If the space is to the west of the runway, that means it faces Superstition Run, which means… It used to be where Jack’s Ice Cream Parlor was.” I pictured the mountain view that the outdoor space would have from every season. My memories rushed back to a time when my parents took me out to get ice cream. The flavor of the season was peppermint, and the tiny flecks of candy canes stuck to my teeth. I snapped back to the task at hand, but it gave me an idea.
Eight hours later, I sent the finished proof over to Patricia for her initial review. I mumbled a small prayer as I put my head over my hands. After spending a long, grueling day glued to my computer, I felt a surge of elation at having something to show, even if it was only for a moment. However, since it was only Tuesday, there remained ample time in my work week for the possibility of getting fired. I glanced one more time at the rendition I had made, and it pleased me.
The theme for the space was Après-ski. It had floor to ceiling glass walls with outdoor heaters spread throughout,so patrons could enjoy it in the deepest winter freeze. A unique bar made from vintage skis was the centerpiece of the space, and they would specialize in peppermint drinks. Three leather sectional couches graced the floor plan, with a separate section for smoking cigars along with an industrial ventilation system, making it safe for all patrons. Glass orb lights hung from the metal ceiling and, just for fun, a portrait of my dad bombing a downhill race on the wall. Patricia had a 3D mockup of this to tour, and I loved it. Whether she did was out of my hands. Just then, my phone dinged with the reminder I set about supplies for the youth group.
*****
“Did you find everything we needed?” Mickey jumped up to help me when I walked through the door, carrying all six bags in my arms.
“Yes, I sure did. I even improvised a bit.” An awkward smile crossed my lips as he discovered a pint of peppermint ice cream in the last bag. “What can I say? It’s my favorite.”
Mickey shivered and shrugged, sticking his tongue out. “Sure, but with soda!? Yuck, Claire!”
Mickey loved to tease, but he was right. I hadn’t thought about what soda that would pair with. “I guess I better just eat it out of the container, then.” With a sigh, I grabbed a spoon as the teens filed in.
Mickey greeted everyone with a high five, and then the kids came over to fist bump me. I was told it was as good as shaking hands those days.
“Okay, guys. We have a few fun activities for tonight, including a talk on our favorite subject. Anyone wanna guess what that is?”
Mickey was so vibrant and engaging, I almost wanted to take a stab at it but left it to the teens.
Melody spoke up. “Peer pressure?”
Mickey clapped. “Good idea, Melody! I had nothing in mind to talk about tonight, so that should do fine.”
Laughing it off, a few of the kids groaned dramatically, but I knew they loved Mickey, and everything he talked about was always spot on.
“But first, we have something exciting that we need to discuss, gang.”
My ears perked up as I started sorting out the Solo cups for the ice cream floats. I did not know what Mickey was referring to.
“Thanks to averygenerous donation from Brian’s parents to our group bonding fund,” Mickey ran over and gave him a fist bump, “and a matching grant from our community ski resort, we can take a four-night ski vacation right here at Sage Mountain, starting on December 28th. One of the new luxury lodges will accommodate us, all our meals are included, and most importantly, our group will have four ski instructors assigned to us. They will base the ski instructors on ability, so for all my pros out there, don’t worry. So? Who’s with me?”
Mickey singled me out, fully knowing my history with the sport. My jaw dropped while our group of teens cheered. “I have already spoken to your parents, but I made them promise to let me tell you,” Mickey said. “Several of them will be with us as chaperones, so don’t get too excited. Except I am because most of your parents are totally dope. Except yours, Rachel. Your dad gave me that speeding ticket last year and… Well, don’t worry, we’re cool now, and he’s coming too. Everyone is welcome!”
Mickey shot me a glance and smiled eagerly.
