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Chapter 9

November

Shane

The bus was much too warm. I had taken off my sweater long ago, but even in my T-shirt I was hot. Outside, snow and ice were passing me by, which made the situation completely absurd. Add to that the background music on the radio, which was playing some song by some boy band guy about footprints in the sand. It couldn’t have been more inappropriate. And yet the romantic melody matched the gentle snowdrifts outside the window.

I couldn’t get enough of Vermont’s winter landscape. Again and again, my gaze wandered out the window. Snow piled up on the branches of the trees. It was pushed to the sides of the roads, inviting children to play dangerously close to the traffic.

It was snowing heavily in Massachusetts. But in Ocean View, it never stayed long. As a child, I would have loved this weather. I did love it. From waves to snowdrifts. From one mode of transportation to the next. The main thing was that I had something under my feet to get around.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out.

A picture of Carissa and a few of my colleagues lit up the screen. We miss you! it said underneath. I didn’t give up snowboarding in winter, but I still spent most of my time surfing on a beach.

But after summer, my usual contentment was gone. Something—someone—had thrown me off balance, and I couldn’t carry on as usual. I needed a new impulse. Something to push me in a new direction. Something to distract me.

This season, I would finally make proper use of my snowboard instructor’s license. Until now, it had been limited to a few private lessons per winter and further training courses. It was time to do something with it.

My gaze drifted out the bus windows again. The picturesque road was changing. I stretched and checked at my watch. We would be arriving soon. We had left the last settlement some time ago and the sides of the bus offered a view of beautiful, wide, white ski slopes.

The familiar tingling in my stomach, which told me I had made the right choice, grew stronger. The joy of the new things that awaited me dispelled the melancholy I had been carrying around with me for weeks.

I slowly put on my sweater and gathered my belongings. There were only a few people on the bus. The season didn’t officially begin for another week, and most people who wanted to go to Pinewards Resort didn’t take the bus. They were probably brought by a chauffeur. But the quiet didn’t bother me. On the contrary.

When the bus stopped at the edge of the resort, I left the bus along with the bus driver. While he hoisted my luggage out of the luggage compartment, I enjoyed the crunching sound each of my steps made on the snow.

The proof of winter under my feet was exhilarating. I slung my travel bag over my shoulder, my backpack in front of me, and took my snowboard and boot bag in each hand.

The wide main building of the hotel stretched out in front of me. The walk there was long, but I enjoyed the weight on my shoulders and arms. Sitting still for hours had made me completely restless.

I trudged determinedly toward my destination.

As I stepped through the main entrance into the circular lobby full of marble, a concierge immediately greeted me.

“I’ll take you to the personnel department. Leave your luggage here, you can pick it up as soon as we know where to take you,” he explained in a hushed voice.

I eagerly followed his instructions. Such a fancy place wasn’t normally my scene, but Pinewards Resort had a good reputation, paid its staff well, and I didn’t have to worry about food or lodging.

The personnel department provided me with my documents, the name of the person responsible for the guests’ sports program, and directions to the caretaker who was in charge of the staff apartments.

I left the hotel area through a back exit and walked through a snow-covered park. The grounds gave a hint of the splendor they would display in the summer. Now they were quiet and almost meditative. The small path to the staff apartments had been cleared, and I was glad to leave the stiff atmosphere of the main building behind me.

The first cottages were already peeking out from between the trees, and I turned onto an even smaller path, up a small hill. According to the staff member’s description, the caretaker’s house was the one in front of me with its red wood paneling, shining out from among all the white cottages.

The whole area appeared almost kitschy and romantic.

I knocked on the door of the red house. A curt “Yep” came through the wood, and I entered a strange room. It was a mixture of office, storage room, and reception hall. A few armchairs stood against the walls. A wooden counter, which had seen better days, divided the room. There was a telephone on it. Work jackets hung on the wall next to the door. Underneath was a toolbox.

A tall guy with bright red hair and a huge back came toward me with his hand outstretched.

“You must be Shane. The office already called and announced you. Put your stuff down first.” He pointed his thumb behind him to a guy who obviously wasn´t forty yet. “This is Adriel. He’s in charge of the fun stuff here, while the rest of us have to do real work.”

Adriel shook his head, took a step toward me, and also held out his hand. “Don’t listen to George. As if he ever overworks himself. And he has no idea what we do.”

I immediately took to the two of them and eagerly examined them.

“I can’t wait to get started. You’re in charge of assigning tasks, right?” I asked Adriel.