It had amazing reviews. The photos had pulled me right in. The lodge itself was a huge A-frame cabin structure. Three stories. It had rooms like any hotel, and a restaurant, but alsoscattered about the grounds were private cabins within easy walking distance and a beautiful surrounding forest perfect for shifters. On each cabin door was a Christmas wreath. A few night photos showed everything was decorated with golden light strings. Even the trees lining the driveways were decorated.
I’d booked one of the one-room cabins. I was already looking forward to hot cider and popcorn by warm hearth fires. Restaurant food. Room service. Small town glamour. And quiet. So much quiet.
The website boasted a sister lodge down the road about a quarter of a mile away. Both were identical, but one was more geared for humans. Not that we couldn’t mix. Some humans had alpha and omega traits. But for me, booking the shifter lodge made me feel more comfortable in every way. If I wanted to strip and run out into the snow in my reindeer skin, no one would bat an eye. If I suddenly went into heat in the middle of dinner at the lodge, I could get up and leave and everyone would understand.
A cozy getaway and a dream come true awaited me. I vowed not to think of the firm or any of my work while I was there. The law offices were closed up tight until January. No one would be pinging me.
I checked the weather. A recent snowfall had covered the mountains with fresh, new powder. Winter Wonderland sent emails saying the nearby ski lodge would be open to us, plus they had cross country ski trails, sledding areas, snowman building contests and more. They assured us that the heated indoor pool, sauna, three hot tubs and the gym would all be available for use. And for us shifters, well, we were allowed to roam as we pleased as long as we did not hunt game and kept the forest as pristine as we found it.
I hurried to pack my warmest clothes. I planned to leave early in the morning so I would arrive before dusk.
I went over my vehicle checklist. Chains for the tires, if needed. Fresh oil change. Full gas tank. Spare tire recently filled. All done. Emergency water and food kit in the trunk. Check. Extra blankets. Yes.
I was about as ready as I’d ever get.
I probably wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight. I was like that when traveling. But that didn’t matter. Once I arrived at Winter Wonderland, I could catch up on all the sleep I’d missed this year. I’d be able to sleep in and laze about in my pajamas watching movies if I wished, calling room service for delicious meals. I could get up and wander about the grounds whenever I wanted, build a snowman, shift.
And if I did get lonely, I might walk to the lodge and hang out in the lobby in front of the big hearth drinking spiked cider and eggnog and do some people watching.
No excited kids rushing around my feet. No family fighting over which Christmas movies were the best and what we should watch next. No piles of torn wrapping paper to gather up on Christmas day and burn or take out to the trash.
I loved my family. I really did. But this was my gift to me this year.
I couldn’t wait.
2
Dale
All the snow-covered trees and hills looked silvery in the late morning light. The curvy road stretched like a black satin ribbon before me. Leaving the city behind was a weight lifted from my shoulders.
The mountains beckoned. Christmas was coming. And with it a blessed vacation for the next two weeks. I’d looked forward to this moment all year.
I turned up the car heat as the temp plummeted in the higher altitude.
“Winter Wonderland Wilderness Lodge, here I come.”
I was excited. The only disappointing part of it was I had no one to share this wonderful time with. I had family, but we weren’t close. My parents drank a lot, and my childhood had been missing warmth and attention. Also, I didn’t have a partner, the friend of the heart I’d always dreamed of spending my life with. I didn’t trust easily. I’d been unlucky in love with the wrong sorts of guys. It just wasn’t in the stars for me.
Several hours later, after a stop for gas and a burger, I pulled into Winter Wonderland’s parking lot. There were almost no spaces left. I parked toward the back of the lot and walked through some slushy puddles to reach the lodge’s front door.
As soon as I entered the lobby, chaos greeted me. The din of voices and the crowd with suitcases and backpacks piled everywhere was a shock. The door closed behind me. Hot air—overly hot from all the people standing around—felt like an assault.
A stranger turned to me and said, “If you want my advice, leave now.”
“What’s going on?”
“No more rooms. And everyone here has a reservation but it’s no good.”
“I have a reservation.”
“Doesn’t matter. Someone overbooked the place.”
“I need to talk to the clerk.”
He pointed. “Line’s over there.”
I hurried to the end of a long queue, desperately worried now. I remembered that every place I’d passed driving up the mountain had signs out that said “No Vacancy.” Would I have to turn around and go home?
