Chapter 4
Rhian sat at the window in her room, sipping her coffee and staring out at El Chaltén. Low bungalows, Alpine-style lodges, and apex houses dotted the landscape, and the Fitz Roy loomed over them all. It reminded her of some of the great Alpine towns she’d been to over the years: Grindelwald or Zermatt. Not just places where the tourists stopped on their way to conquer the peaks they lived in the shadow of, towns that actually lived, breathed, and grew. El Chaltén was the same. It had an energy about it that crackled and made her feel alive.
Of course, that could be down to a good night’s sleep and a great cup of coffee. But she was willing to give the town the benefit of the doubt.
It was almost eight a.m., and Carlos was due at any moment to take her to the first guide on the list, Sarah Matthews. She’d been leading groups over the Chaltén massif for the past eight years and had a sterling reputation. Four and a half stars on TripAdvisor, according to the notes Rachel had given her. Instead of setting her mind at ease, the ratings from the Internet site set her on edge. People were subjective, and websites with reviews were too easily manipulated, if you were canny enough to do so. No small business was good enough for eight years to maintain a rating that high. Not in the tourism industry. All it had to do was rain at the wrong time, and someone would complain on the Internet.
You’re getting cynical in your old age, Rhi. She smirked to herself. Not that twenty-eight was old. Some days it just felt like it.
Carlos’s Jeep pulled up outside, and he honked, waved at her window, and held up a bag.
Rhian chuckled. “Looks like you convinced your wife to feed me again,” she said to herself then finished her coffee and grabbed her bag, plucked her key card from the switch beside the door, and hurried out to meet him. “Yum, yum, Carlos. What did you bring me?”
“Medialunas.”
“And what’s that?” She tossed her backpack on the back seat and climbed in.
“A little like a croissant, but shaped a little different. More like, how you say, ‘tie’? They are sweeter too.”
She opened the package. “Oh, cool. They look like bowties.”
“Sí, bowtie. Medialunas.” She bit into one as he shifted into gear and pulled out onto the road. “You like?”
“Lovely,” she said around a mouthful of the sweet pastry. She held one out for him, but he shook his head.
“I ate already. My wife send these for you and tell me to invite you for dinner tonight.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Sí. She say she show you proper Argentine meal. If you think empanadas and medialunas is good food, you see what she make for you tonight.” He grinned and turned left at the end of the road. “You will come, no?”
“I’d love to.” She ate the second pastry and sat back as he drove through the quiet streets. When he pulled to a stop outside a wooden Alpine-styled shack, he pointed.
“Mrs Matthews is inside. I will wait here.”
“That’s great, Carlos. But I might be a while.”
He shrugged and reached between the seats, grabbing a newspaper from the back. “I will be fine, Miss Phillips.”
“Thanks.” She stepped out of the car and into a muddy puddle, grimacing at the cold water that splashed up her leg as she shook off her shoe and grabbed her rucksack. The door swung open easily as she entered the building and buzzed at the reception desk.
“Yeah, yeah. Just a minute,” a low female voice called from the back of the building.
“Okay.” Rhian took the time to look around. Posters filled the white-painted walls, and uncomfortable plastic chairs clung to the walls. A leaflet rack stood in the far corner, filled, messily, with tourist information, trekking guides, and hotel adverts. A leaflet advertising horse riding treks around the area caught her attention. She was glancing through it when a short, powerfully built woman with dark, spiky hair and dark eyes strode out of the back room.
“How can I help you?” Her smile sported slightly crooked front teeth and enhanced the creases at the sides of her eyes.
“Sarah Matthews?”
The smile faded a little. “Who’s asking?”
Rhian stepped forward and offered her hand. “My name’s Rhian Phillips. I’m here from the London advertising agency—”
“Why would I want an advertising agency based in London?” The smile dropped completely, and she ignored Rhian’s extended hand. “I don’t need any advertising. I’ve got more than enough business as it is. Thanks, but no thanks and all that.”
Rhian stared at her. It wasn’t the first time someone had turned down a proposal. But in the past, she had at least been able to make the proposal before being thrown out. Four and a half stars on TripAdvisor, my arse.
“That isn’t why I’m here, Mrs Matthews.”
“Right. What do you want, then?”
Rhian produced her most professional smile despite her growing annoyance at the woman’s rude and dismissive attitude. “I wanted to talk to you about a job.”
Sarah Matthews rolled her eyes. “I’m not hiring either.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Look, honey, I’m not interested in taking on some gap-year student wanting to bum around for a year knocking up climbs and doing diddly-squat.”
Rhian gaped at her. “I’m not a student!”
Mrs Matthews looked her up and down, a sceptical look on her face.
“I told you I work for a marketing firm.”
“Right, right. So you’re what? An intern or something? What do you want a job here for, then?”
Rhian clenched her teeth in an attempt to maintain an even temper in the face of such an obnoxious woman. This was who they’d approved for the show? They’d be off air in a week! “I’m not asking you to hire me in any capacity.”
She was more than a little aware that she was looking not just for a guide but for the host of the show. They needed someone with genuine warmth, humour, and wit. Someone who could befriend the audience through the camera lens with a gleam in her eye and a smile on her lips. In short, not some grumpy, rude woman who wouldn’t give you the time of day.
“Then what do you want?”
Rhian debated trying again. She didn’t want to go back to Rachel and tell her that she’d failed to get this woman to cooperate, but in all honesty, even if she could, she didn’t truly think it could work out. I’ll be the one who has to work with her, after all.
Decision made.
“Nothing.” She turned on her heel and let the door slam in her wake. “Nothing at all,” she muttered to herself. Rachel wasn’t going to be happy, but then again, when was Rachel happy? She climbed into the Jeep as Carlos looked up in surprise, crumpling his newspaper between his fists.
“Next, please, Carlos.”
He frowned. “You okay, miss?”
“No. I’m afraid I don’t really like rude and arrogant people.”
He closed his mouth with an audible click and turned on the engine. “Sí, that is Mrs Matthews.” He glanced over his shoulder and pulled out into the road, ignoring the woman as she strode towards them. He smirked and flicked his gaze up to his rear-view mirror. “She no nice lady.”
“So it would seem. The others on the list—are they like her?”
“Who is on your list?”
“Fen McCash and Chris King.”
“No, they both nice ladies. Not like her.”
“Okay, good.”
“We are closest to Ms King office here. You want to go there first?”
Rhian shrugged and tried to loosen the tension from her shoulders. “Sure, why not?”
The building he pulled up to looked very similar to the one she’d met Sarah Matthews in, but the paint on the front was fresh, and there were flowers in window boxes, adding a touch of colour to the dark wooden boarding.
The meeting with Sarah Matthews had not gone at all like she’d planned. That wasn’t going to happen again. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. You’re an intelligent, articulate, and successful woman, Rhian. You can talk to a climber about offering her a climbing job.
She walked up the path and reached out for the handle. Her hand was shaking. Okay, plan B. WWRD? What Would Rachel Do? She smiled. She’d have knocked Sarah Matthews into next week, that’s what Rachel would do. She shook her head. Matthews is the past. Let it go. Now we’re on to King. Focus on King, and channel your inner Rachel.
She plastered on a smile that she hoped projected confidence and charm and pulled open the door.
A tall woman with blond hair smiled at her from the reception desk when she walked in. “Good morning,” she said.
“Morning.” Rhian held out her hand. “I’m Rhian Phillips. I’m looking for Chris King.”
The woman stood and shook Rhian’s hand. “You found her. How can I help you, Miss Phillips?”
“I work for an advertising agency in London,” she said and waited to see if Chris King would react. She didn’t, so Rhian continued. “I’m meeting with some of the guiding companies here with a view to hiring someone to help us run a new reality TV show as part of a multi-layered marketing campaign. Would this be something you’d be interested to discuss with me?”
The woman’s eyebrows hiked up her forehead. “Marketing what?”
“A well-known clothing brand, as well as the area here on behalf of the Argentinian tourism board.”
Chris whistled. “Yes, I can discuss it.” She rounded the desk and crossed the floor to the door. She quickly flipped the open sign to closed and locked the door. “Let’s go through here, and we can talk.” She showed Rhian through to what seemed to be the living space of the building. A small kitchenette in the far nook, a TV and sofa in front of the patio windows, and a large wood burner in the centre of the room filled the space. There was a ladder against one wall, leading up to a loft space. Presumably it was the sleeping area.
Chris pointed to the sofa. “Please take a seat.”
Rhian sat while Chris placed a chair in the middle of the floor and sat on it backwards. “When would this all start?”
“Six months from now. The crew would arrive in September to coincide with the start of the season. The contestants then would be in from October. We’d do a month of training and assessments with them, and filming will begin in November over a twelve-week period.”
“And what do you want me to do?”
“We’ll be setting them challenges to accomplish. Every challenge leading up to it will determine if they are capable of the final challenge. If they aren’t, they won’t make it there.”
“And if the weather does what it does here and blows all your plans to shit?”
“We’ll have contingency plans in place.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t really answer my question. Would you want me to lead the climbs?”
“In some instances, to begin with, yes. As they get better, which they would, I’d need you more to help with the film crew, placing cameramen on safety ropes to get the shots they need of the contestants. I need local expertise to scout locations and keep both the contestants and crew safe, while we make the best damn challenge show TV has ever seen.” She leant forward and rested her elbows on her knees. Something in Chris’s demeanour held her back from mentioning the final part of the job. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something. “I know you’ve completed the traverse. I’ve seen the video of you on top of Fitz Roy. You’re capable, and you haven’t been rude to me, not like the last person I tried to talk to about this.”
“I’m not the first one on your list?” Chris frowned, and Rhian watched as her insecurity peeked out from behind the façade of bravado.
“No. There were three people on my list of potential guides when I came here. I don’t have a preference. It’s more important to me to find someone I can work well with and who will keep people safe. You’re the second person I’ve met with simply because you’re the second closest to my hotel. I still have one more to visit.”
“So this is more like an audition than a request.”
Rhian chuckled. “If that’s how you want to see it.”
“Hm. I think I need to think about it.”
Rhian pursed her lips. Shit. What was wrong with people today? She was offering the chance of a lifetime—maybe. This could be a golden opportunity for this woman, and she wasn’t jumping at the chance. Rhian grimaced, but hoped she hid it well. Rachel would have charmed or manipulated her into signing the dotted bloody line by now.
She stood and held out her hand. “Then thanks for your time.” A flicker of indecision rippled across Chris’s face, and Rhian wondered if her ploy was going to work.
“That’s it?” Chris held her hand limply.
Rhian frowned. “I’m leaving you to think about it. I don’t have any more details I can share if you’re not on board.” It wasn’t entirely true, but she was hoping that curiosity and the fear that the job would disappear would get the woman to show some sort of…commitment, or at least the desire to fight for the damn opportunity. “Plus, I do have other places to go. I’m sorry.”
She held her breath waiting for Chris King to make her choice. Come on, come on. Tell me you want this.
“Do you have a card, then, so I can get in touch with you?”
Shit. Rhian fished one from the pocket on her backpack and handed it over. “It was nice to meet you.”
She slipped the card into her shirt pocket. “Yeah, you too. Thanks.”
“You were very quick again, Miss Phillips,” Carlos said as she got back into the car. “She no nice to you too?”
“She was nice enough. She just wasn’t sure she wanted what I’m offering. And please call me Rhian.”
He nodded but neither agreed nor disagreed. “Ah. Is a complicated job, no?”
“Yes. But very lucrative too.”
He nodded and pulled away. “Sometimes, though, is no money that is important.”
“True.” She tucked her bag into the foot well by her feet. “Last one, then. Let’s hope Fen McCash wants what I have to offer and isn’t rude along the way.”
“Fen is good people.” He smiled.
“Friend of yours?”
He waggled his hand from side to side. “I work with her during the season sometimes. Driving her groups in and out of the mountains, moving gear, and such like. She’s a nice lady. Good, fair.”
“Sounds like the kind of person I’m looking for. Why didn’t you bring me to see her first?”
“I didn’t want you think I play favouritism. Only take you see my friend. Only take you where I get work out of the deal too, most probably.”
Rhian snorted a quick laugh. “Fair point.” She relaxed back into her seat. “Since you know her so well, why don’t you tell me a little about her?”
“Trying to get, what you call it—insider information?” He grinned wickedly and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
Rhian laughed. “A girl’s gotta work her sources, Carlos.”
“Well, since we are already here, I do not have time to divulge critical information.”
Rhian scowled at him. “Fine, fine. I guess I’ll just have to make up my own mind, then.” Damnit, that was too fast. I haven’t even had chance to formulate a plan. She fiddled nervously with the door handle.
“You okay, Miss Rhian?”
She swallowed her nerves and turned to offer Carlos a grin. “Absolutely.” She exited the car and was surprised by a woman standing at the door and waving at them. She had long auburn hair that was pulled back to a ponytail at the nape of her neck, a wide smile, and laughing eyes.
“Morning.” She headed towards them. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Carlos? Come on in. I told Mark to put the kettle on for coffee.”
“Thank you, Fen, but no. No coffee for me today. I’m working.”
She nodded to Rhian and offered her hand. “I’m Fen McCash. Are you a friend of this here reprobate?” She tossed a playful wink at Carlos and joined him in laughter.
Rhian took the offered hand. Her grip was firm, no-nonsense, and warm. “I’m Rhian Phillips. Carlos is being kind enough to chauffeur me around for a while.”
“Ah, I see. Well, then, nice to meet you, Rhian. Are you here on holiday?”
Rhian slipped her bag over her shoulder and shook her head. “I’m here to meet you, actually.”
“Me?” Fen asked, surprise clear in her voice. “Why on earth would you be here to meet me?”
“Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
Fen indicated the house behind them. Like others she’d visited that morning, it was a dark, boarded, Alpine-style apex house, but this one was probably twice the size of the others and had a corrugated sheet metal annex on the side. “As long as this isn’t some crafty American ploy to try and serve me some bogus lawsuit, we can chat in there.”
“They send Brits to do their dirty work now?”
Fen nodded sagely. “Like I said, crafty.” She winked again and led Rhian through the door.
A tall, wiry man with dark hair and eyes stuck his head from around a door frame and held up a mug. “Coffee?” He frowned. “I thought you said Carlos was here?”
“He is. He’s on the clock, though, so he’s staying in the Jeep.” She nodded towards the road. “Obviously trying to make a good impression.”
“Oh, right. I’ll take him one out, then.” He smiled at Rhian. “Can I get you one while I’m at it?”
“That would be great. Thanks. I’m Rhian, by the way.”
“Mark McCash. Milk? Sugar?”
“Just milk, thanks.”
Fen waved her hand in the direction of the comfy, low-slung sofa against the back wall of the reception area. The feeling of comfort and homeliness was already so different to the other two places. Rhian already felt much more comfortable with the McCash style of doing things.
“So what can I help you with?”
“I need a local guide, a woman who will work with me to create a reality TV show to showcase a leading outdoor-gear manufacturer as well as the Patagonia region. It’s a marketing campaign that will run worldwide, feature contestants from all over the world, and take up pretty much the entirety of your next summer.”
Mark came in and put their drinks on the coffee table. “I’ll just go and give this to Carlos.”
Fen nodded but didn’t take her eyes off Rhian. “What’s your objective with the contestants?”
“Ultimately, the five-day Fitz Traverse.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Each week there would be a challenge, each one getting tougher and tougher. The two worst performers each week go up for the public vote to leave the competition. So by the time we get to the final, only those capable of doing it will be left. Sixteen climbers. Twelve weeks.”
Fen shook her head. “You can’t do the traverse solo. It needs to be in pairs.”
“They will be.”
“So you’d have two winners at the end of the series?”
“Yes. We’ll work out who to pair together to get them across the traverse safely, and on one week, there’ll either be a double elimination, or we’ll lose someone to injury at some point.”
Fen smiled and nodded. “Contingency plan number one.”
“Yes.”
“And if you lose more than one to injury?”
“Then we get a non-elimination week.”
“Who would be setting the challenges?”
“You and me.”
“Other than challenging the contestants, what is your objective with them?”
Rhian smiled. She got it. “Showcasing Patagonia off to its fullest.”
“All well and good when the weather’s lovely. But that isn’t always the case.”
“So I hear. We’re trying to show Patagonia in all its glory, but the reality has to be there too. If we’re promoting the area to tourists, then they need to know that the sun doesn’t always shine. Otherwise the tourist board, who is putting up half the money, will be inundated with complaints.”
Fen laughed, then took a sip of her coffee. “You said most of next season. When are you looking at starting this project?”
“The film crew will arrive in September. Contestants in October and filming for the series in November.”
“Over twelve weeks?”
“Yes.”
Fen nodded. Her gaze flicked about the room, but Rhian didn’t think she was looking at anything outside her head. She bit her lip. “I have a few conditions, Rhian.”
Rhian cocked her head, her attention completely focused.
“No one goes up a mountain I don’t think they can handle, no one goes up alone, and they don’t go up without a rope. If they do, they’re out. Safety has to be my main concern. Not getting a better shot, not pushing another limit. Safety. That’s my priority. If they don’t make the traverse, I don’t care. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they make it home alive. I’ll be battling those bastards every step of the way.” She tossed her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the mountains that loomed through the windows. “I won’t battle you or obnoxious cameramen or arrogant climbers either. Clear?”
“What? No promises to get me the best shots possible or unmissable TV?” Rhian asked.
Fen shook her head. “I don’t play around when it comes to getting people home safely. You want someone who will offer you promises of gold and bring you home body bags, go and see someone else.”
Rhian shook her head. “I don’t. I need someone like you, because there will be more than enough hotheads running around the place, just like you said.”
“I take it you’re talking to a number of people.” She stared into her coffee cup. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t. Big project like this, you need to be sure you’ve got the right people, the right team, in place. If you do decide to go with my company, can you give me as much notice as possible? I’ve got bookings in for the summer already that I would have to hire on extra guides to deal with or farm out to another company.”
“You’re the third person I’ve spoken to today.”
Fen nodded. “Then I expect you’ll need to think about your decision.” She picked up a card from the table and turned it over. She patted her pockets until she found a pen and scrawled on the back of the small card. “My mobile number. I’d appreciate it if you could let me know either way.” She offered a crooked smile. “Then I’m not wondering until next summer and seeing who gets the job if you make the wrong choice.”
Rhian took the card, and slid it into her pocket. “There is one other part to the job.”
“What’s that?”
“Hosting the show.”
Fen’s eyes widened. “You’re looking for me, or rather your guide, to be the host too?”
Rhian nodded. “We want a someone, a woman, with knowledge, skill, and a personable approach to host the show. We need credibility as much as watchability, and someone like you, who has a vast experience in the mountains, a stellar reputation—and if you don’t mind me saying so, who is attractive as well—will certainly go a long way to making the show work.”
Fen was watching her closely, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Still interested?”
“Well, I can’t honestly say I ever thought that would be something I’d end up doing, and I’m not sure I’d be any good at it, but I’ve always said I’d try almost anything once.” She shrugged. “So yeah. Why not?”
Rhian grinned. That was what she was looking for. Fen’s attitude, her manner, and her wit struck the tone and balance she could see in the host for the show. She also needed someone who would stand up to the hotheads who were undoubtedly going to try to push every limit they could on this project. Fen would shut them down in a heartbeat. She could already see it.
WWRD? She’d sign her up before she walked out the door.
“Any chance you could show me around a little bit?”
Fen frowned. “Around where?”
“This place. Adventure Trekkers. If it’s going to be headquarters for this project, I need to know what we’ve got to work with.”
“You’re offering me the job?”
“Looks like it.”
“Just like that?”
“There were three names on my shortlist. Three women who have completed the traverse—”
“There are a number of guys out there who’ve done it.”
“I need a woman as the face of this project, the leader of this motley crew we’re putting together.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what our client wants.”
Fen threw her head back and laughed. “And what the client wants, the client gets, right?” Fen stood, held out her hand, and tugged Rhian to her feet.
“It’s the name of the game, Fen.”
She smiled and led Rhian through to the annex. Racks of gear were hung in orderly lines from pegs all along the walls. Pulleys suspended from the ceiling racks and rails full of lengths of ropes, sleds, snowshoes, and skis. Shelves bisected the room into four long corridors filled with labelled tubs. Tents, sleeping bags, harnesses, rock boots, chalk bags, anchors. It was a climber’s treasure trove. Everything she could’ve wanted or needed was tucked away in this room.
“Since this project would take up the entire season next year, I presume the money’s good.”
“Very.”
“Excellent.”
“Can I make a condition of my own?” Rhian asked.
“Maybe.”
“I would like Carlos on-board for the project. We’ll need transportation a lot, both for people and gear. Through the winter as well as when September rolls around.”
Fen smiled and clapped a hand on Rhian’s back. “I’ve been thinking I could do with a full-time driver on my staff for this. Who’s recruiting the contestants?”
“I am.”
“You’re going to be a busy girl.”
Rhian nodded and ran her hand reverently across one of the gear racks.
“You climb?”
“Yes.”
Fen grinned. “How long are you here for?”
“I’ve got four more days before I have to leave.”
“Want to do some scouting with me? We can take a look at some of the easier routes, and you can see the beast.” She pointed out the window to Mount Fitz Roy. “Up close and personal, as they say.”
Rhian beamed. “That would be awesome.”