“What makes you think I have a picture?”
“Because you take pictures of everything. Especially if they’re good-looking.”
With a resigned sigh, I navigated to my photo library. Nestled between shots of airport coffee shops and elk burger signs was a quick snap of Noah, with Yeti outside the airport. I’d taken it surreptitiously, for evidence, in case I ended up as a statistic on a true crime podcast.
I texted the photo to my parents, knowing I’d regret it immediately.
Three ...
Two ...
One ...
“Ooooohhh!” Mom’s squeal almost shattered every window in the room. “He IS good-looking! VERY good-looking. What did you say his name was?”
“I didn’t. But it’s Noah.”
“Like with the ark?”
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have an ark.”
“You should wear that red underwear you had on when we came over,” said Mom. “Then he’d show you his ark for sure.” Dad groaned in the background.
“I don’t think you’re using the word ‘ark’ properly. And I’m definitely not showing Noah my underwear anytime soon, or ever, thank you very much.”
Mom must have lowered the phone, but I could still hear her and Dad arguing about the need for her to insert herselfinto facilitating my sex life for the next several minutes. It was unclear who the winner was, but the clear loser was me.
Mercifully, Dad changed the subject. He lifted the phone back up. “Maybe if this LuxeLife place likes what you do there, they’ll send you to Copenhagen.”
I frowned, surprised. “How do you know LuxeLife has a resort in Copenhagen?”
“I looked it up.” I could picture Mom rolling her eyes. Dad had been trying to convince her to take a trip to Denmark for as long as I could remember, because that’s where they invented Lego. My father, pushing sixty, still maintained a passionate love affair with interlocking plastic bricks. I’d caught him once constructing an entire medieval village on the dining room table while Mom was visiting her cousin in Boise.
As they bickered about Dad’s unhealthy Lego obsession versus his appreciation for architectural ingenuity in miniature, I made my way to the glass-enclosed shower, where a digital display controlled multiple shower heads. I set it to “Mountain Mist.”
Interrupting a spirited discussion about how much space old Lego boxes were consuming in the garage, I shouted, “Okay, love you both. Promise I’ll text. I’ll also make sure to watch out for moose. And avoid grumpy mountain men!”
I hung up before they could respond.
Chapter Nine
Istrolled into the resort’s restaurant at precisely 8:00 AM, my mood improved with the promise of a full day of pampered luxury.
The dining room was a masterpiece of rustic-chic design. Soaring timber beams crisscrossed the ceiling. Glass walls framed the mountains like works of art. Maya waved enthusiastically from a corner table.
“I took the liberty of ordering for us both,” Maya said as I slid into the chair across from her. She gestured at the spread before us, an Instagram-worthy feast that looked like it had been styled by a food photographer. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? This looks perfect.” My camera was already out, capturing the perfectly poached eggs draped in sunshine-yellow hollandaise, perched atop fresh lump crabmeat and house-made English muffins. Sliced avocado fanned artfully along one side of the plate, sprinkled with micro greens and what appeared to be edible mountain flowers.
A smaller plate held a geometric arrangement of berries, so perfectly ripe they glistened. Beside that sat a glass of fresh-pressed juice in a gradient from deep orange to sunny yellow, garnished with a sprig of mint.
“The berries came from a local farm about twenty minutes away,” said Maya, clearly pleased by the smile stretched across my face.
I took a sip of the coffee Maya poured for me, somehow managing not to spit, splash, or spill it all over her. As soon as I lifted the cup to my nose, the heavenly aroma of dark roast with hints of chocolate and caramel made my mouth water.
“We try to source as much as we can locally.”
I adjusted my camera angle to catch how the light played through the fresh-pressed juice, transforming it into liquid amber. “The lighting in here is perfect. Did you design it specifically for photo shoots?”
