“I don’t need you to tell me about my own place of employment. I’ve managed the lodge for over a decade, and you’ve been here, what, half a day?”
Less, actually, after a very uncomfortable ride up here—and not just because of the twisty, slippery roads. “Yes, but I’m eager to do whatever I can to?—”
“As I’ve told you, I don’t need any help today.”
Her stern expression and her pursed lips implied that she’d never needed help at any point in her life. Which was just great. This internship was a requirement of my hospitality major. Graduation was a mere five months away, but I wouldn’t be walking across the stage if my internship report stated that all I did was get lectured a lot. “Surely there must be something I can do?”
“There is, as I just told you. Tomorrow morning, you’ll take a ski lesson.”
My shoulders slumped. I’d really hoped I’d somehow misheard her. “But… but I don’t know how to ski.”
“Which makes you an ideal candidate for a lesson.” She raised an eyebrow. “Most of our guests for the holidays haven’t arrived yet, but the ski instructor has, and he’s going to teach you tomorrow.”
It made absolutely no sense. I could work at the registration desk. Update their ancient website. Start onsome new marketing materials. Hell, I’d even go clean windows if would count toward my internship. Not that I was tall enough to reach most of the floor-to-ceiling panes that showed off the gorgeous scenery.
I took a deep breath and tried one more time. “Shouldn’t he rest up before the rest of the guests get here? Surely, he’s got better things to do than to teach an absolute beginner.”
“I’m sure he does have better things to do.” Mrs. Greer’s sniff of disdain showed that she thought she did, too. “He’s a world-class skier with several national championships. He was a backup for the Olympics. But he’s used to teaching advanced skiers out in Colorado. The kind who got their first skis as toddlers. He’s a bit rusty instructing beginners, so he needs someone to practice on.”
My heart, which had already been somewhere around my stomach, sank to the floor. Not only did I have to take a ski lesson, but the instructor wasn’t good with newbies? Maybe Mrs. Greer was hoping I’d ski right off a cliff and be out of her hair. But I swallowed back the sigh that threatened to come out. “All right, I’ll be his guinea pig. But we’ve still got all afternoon. Is there anything I can help you w?—”
“No.” She stood up, looking like she was going to use all ninety pounds of her bodyweight to push me out the door of her office. “Be in the lobby at eight tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”
Dazedly, I walked across the gleaming wooden floor, my heels making a clicking noise. The sound steadied me, and I brushed my fingers down my silk button-down shirt and to the fabric of the dark A-line skirt that hugged my hips. I’d kept my outfit pristine throughout that very uncomfortable car ride up here with that awful man.
Slowly, I shook my head. My hair was in a neat bun, my make-up was flawless. I should be working with guests, not preparing to slide down a mountain with an impatient and likely bored instructor.
There was an older couple at registration, and two people behind the counter who seemed to be finishing up checking in. The woman behind the desk handed the older man a shiny silver key attached to some kind of carved wooden keychain. There were no plastic cards that you had to swipe here. Not at The Fraser, the most exclusive resort in the southeastern part of the US.
A porter in a maroon uniform appeared and escorted the couple toward the guest suites. The two people behind the desk spoke quietly to each other as I approached.
The man looked up as I arrived at the desk. “Checking in, miss?”
“No, I’m not. I’m here to work.” I took a deep breath, hoping to get a better response than I had with Mrs. Greer. “What can I do to help?”
3
ZOE
“And you saidyou’re celebrating your daughter’s birthday?” I smiled at the Martin family, which consisted of a tired-looking dad, a mom with a designer handbag, a girl who looked to be in fourth or fifth grade, and a younger boy.
The mom beamed. “Yes, Emma just turned ten. We wanted to do something special.”
“Well, happy birthday, Emma.” I handed the carved wooden keychain across the polished counter. “You’re in the Laurel Suite on the third floor. It has a beautiful view of the mountains.”
Emma’s eyes went wide, and even her younger brother looked impressed. A porter appeared at my elbow as if summoned, and I gestured toward the family. “William here will take you up and get you settled.”
As the Martins headed toward the elevator, theirexcited chatter fading, one of my new coworkers nodded his approval at me. His name was Dennis, and he had salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of calm demeanor that probably came from years of dealing with demanding guests. Pam—his colleague at the desk—was a cheerful woman with dark curly hair and laugh lines around her eyes. “You’re a natural. Most people forget to mention the view.”
“I’m glad Mrs. Greer sent you down to help,” Dennis added.
I felt a flush of pride, followed immediately by a stab of guilt. Mrs. Greer had done no such thing. “Does The Fraser get many families?” That hadn’t been the impression I’d gotten from what little I’d been able to find out about the exclusive resort.
Pam leaned over from her spot at the computer. “Not really. Mostly rich couples looking for a romantic getaway.”
The front doors swung open, letting in a gust of cold air and two more porters hauling luggage. I watched them maneuver suitcases and duffel bags across the gleaming floor, but it was the long, narrow case that caught my attention.
Skis.
