Chapter one
Daphne
Istiranotheroneof the plastic cups of creamer into my coffee and watch the swirling contrast of black against white in my mug. Gerald lingers on what appears to be a very one-sided phone call on the rotary phone that hangs on the diner wall, his displeasure evident across his face. My down jacket crinkles with newness as I move, like fabric that’s never known someone else’s sweat before. It’s unnerving. I like things with history—hell, I love history as a whole. But this overpriced and mass-produced bit of ski wear has me feeling uncomfortable. Especially when I had a perfectly usable coat back at home.
Well, maybe usable, but Gerald thought it wasn’t good enough to ski in. The coat debacle actually made us a day late for check-in. While this town is idyllic and beautiful, Gerald didn’t trust a place so small to carry any gear of “decent quality,” so we stayed nearby last night, in the larger city of Stonebridge, and picked up this polyester nightmare.
Through the window, I focus on the ice-skating rink across the street. There’s a big lot where all the resort goers park behindit, since there’s no road up to the ski resort. You’ve got to take a very 1970s looking gondola up to the snowy peaks of Twilight Mountain. Ice skating looks fun, but I know that’s not what we’re here for. I listen in on his phone call as I watch couples twirl and tumble on the ice.
“Mmm-hmm…Yes, obviously it’s perfectly clear. Don’t worry Nan, your expectations will be met.” My fiance speaks with the same authority he did back when he was my professor. I think it’s one of the things that drew me to him, his confidence. The fact that I was his student was unfortunate, but my foster mom always told me “Love happens when you least expect it,” and I guess she was right.
Gerald clicks the receiver back into its cradle before making his way back to the table, letting out a sigh of annoyance that I question with a raised brow.
“Push your glasses up, dear.” He looks at me with a malingering disapproval, but behind that I know he cares. He wouldn’t be bringing me up here to learn how to ski if he didn’t. My hands flutter to the bridge of my nose, seating my spectacles closer to my face.
“How’s Nan?” I ask. Gerald’s grandmother is the matriarch of the Van Kleeth family, and a force to be reckoned with. I was so nervous to meet her after the scandal of my relationship with Gerald calmed down—but she was surprisingly accepting of me, of us.
“Fine, I suppose.” He picks up the diner’s cutlery, holding it up to the light with a frown. “These are dirty.” He hands it to me, as if wanting me to confirm.
“It looks like water spots to me. You know, sometimes it’s hard to get stuff through the big washers without a few smudges. Back when I worked as a dishwasher—”
Gerald holds up his hand. “I don’t need an explanation…I just want something clean to eat with.” He flags down the pretty faunwhose hands are piled high with steaming plates of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. She eyes him and swivels, the plates all seeming to bend the laws of physics to stay atop her lanky arms.
“Yeah, sugar?” Her tone is just as saccharine as her choice in pet names is.
“I’d like some clean cutlery, if you don’t mind.” He dangles the fork high, nearly in front of her face.
“That is clean,” she mutters, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her brow tightens when my fiancé sighs deeply.
“Cleanerthen.” Gerald’s mean side peeks through, which with the stress of wedding preparations, I see more of than I’d like to admit.
The waitress snorts through her cute black nose, and I can tell that she’s biting the inside of her cheek.
Don’t pick a fight with him, it’s not worth it.I try to mentally send her a message, willing this uncomfortable confrontation to be over.
“No problem, you just wait right there and I’ll get yousomething cleaner.”Her eyes sparkle with what I assume is a barely contained rage. She turns back on her path to deliver breakfast to a nearby table.
“You’d think that the ‘best-kept secret ski town’ would have more sophisticated dining options. But what would you expect from a place called Ted’s.” Gerald laughs as he puts the paper napkin on his thigh. “Let’s hope the lodge has better service.”
I jolt when I hear the cook behind the counter slam the metal spatula against the grilltop. The tall bigfoot, who I’m assuming is the Ted of the restaurant's namesake, turns to our table, arms crossed.
Gerald mustn't hear the clank of metal on metal, or he doesn’t care, because he picks up the menu and peruses his options.
I mouth a sorry to the surly chef and lean in close to my partner. “Be nice, Gerald. These people work hard.” I knowhe’s never worked a day of food service in his life, so it’s my responsibility to educate him on the subject.
“So do traffic lights, dear, who cares?” he scoffs.
It’ll get better after we’re married. This is just a stressful time for us.I grip my hand into a ball, my fingernails cutting hard against my palm.
“So what expectation did Nan need you to meet?” I change the subject, hoping to diffuse his attitude.
He drops the laminated menu, his fingers fumbling.
“Oh, uh, well—” He’s unnaturally flustered. “Well, she just wanted to make sure we get your skiing up to par before the family trip to Vail—as if I hadn’t already thought about that. Why do you think we came to Hallow’s Cove? To make sure your skills were up to snuff in a place where you wouldn’t embarrass yourself too much. All I do is think of you, you do know that, don’t you?” He grabs my hand and kisses the four-carat heirloom ring he gave me.
Even though it’s a bit of a backhanded compliment, and not something I think Nan would really care about, I let it go. I lean over the table and kiss his cheek before grabbing my own menu. What’s a little bit of weirdness when we’ve got forever ahead of us? Besides, I’ve got other things to worry about—like somehow becoming a decent skier in less than a month's time.
Lord help me, I am not the athletic type. Bookworm, historian, and all-around klutz, yes. But I’ll try to fit my new role as Gerald Van Kleeth’s wife, and apparently a big part of that is not being a total dope on the slopes.
