Serene

IT WAS BEAUTIFUL HERE.

I’d gotten in so late last night I’d hardly had the energy to look at the cabin. I plopped in bed and fell right to sleep but now, as I looked around it was clear my cousin had spared no expense.

I rolled over, stretching out like a starfish in the king bed, sinking deeper into the thick comforter as I took in the incredible view. It looked like I was in a damn snow globe. All the exterior walls of the bedroom were glass, giving me a sweeping view of the resort—peaked white mountain tops dotted with evergreen trees, drooping and heavy with snow for as far as I could see. To the left was another ski chalet, with steeply pitched roofs and turreted windows just like the one I looked out of.

I reached for the remote on the side table and turned on the gas fireplace to take the morning chill out of the air.

Aspen was a very good idea. It had taken my boss and my very favorite cousin to convince me but I was glad I was here.

I put a toe on the floor, testing to see how cold it was and was pleasantly surprised to find the hardwood floors were heated. I climbed out of bed, grabbed a fluffy robe and headed to the pre-stocked kitchen.

I only found a low-end brand of breakfast tea in the cupboard but that blow was softened when I found a room service menu with a note stating the room came with a personal chef at my beck and call. It had been a very long time since I’d had anything prepared by a trained chef. I’d have to remember that for later. Right now, I was interested in getting something quick and catching the next shuttle to the ski lift.

In my teenage years, I’d been a pretty decent skier. Holidays spent in the Alps tend to do that. But it had been quite some time since I’d strapped on a pair of ski boots so I made sure to find out which shuttle went to the bunny hill lift. A little caution never hurt anyone.

I grabbed a muffin from the complimentary gift basket and headed back to the bedroom to change. After getting my under-the-snowsuit-clothes worked out, yoga pants and a fitted long sleeve t-shirt, I went to work pulling on the deep purple, one-piece suit I’d worn in my youth.

I was only twenty-six so it hadn’t been that long since I’d worn the suit. But I struggled to get it over my hips. After breaking a sweat, I finally got it zipped to my middle only to find it wouldn’t zip over my boobs. I gave up, pulled the top of the suit down and changed into a tighter, smooshier sports bra. That did the trick. I was zipped and ready to go. I grabbed my skis and fluffy white hat and gloves and went to the shuttle stop.

I’d hoped to be the only one up this early and get to the slopes before the big crowds but I had to settle for a few others waiting at the stop.

“Hi! I’m Tammy and this is my husband Dale,” said a woman with a southern  accent in a pink suit so bright it was hard to look at. She held out her ringed, manicured hand. I yanked off my glove with my teeth and shook.”

“Pleasure, Tammy. I’m Serene.”

“Oh myyyy,” she drawled. “Isn’t that a posh accent? Cambridge?” Her ruby lips pulled back into a warm smile as she assessed my nearly ten-year-old ski equipment. I knew what she must think. I either didn’t have enough money to afford new ski clothes or just didn’t know any better.

I didn’t bother changing the assumption.

I smiled back, impressed she’d nailed my accent down so easily. “Oxford Business, actually but very close.”

“Well, close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, isn’t that right, Dale?” Her husband nodded dutifully.

I had no idea what to say to that odd turn of phrase. I nodded and smiled. What occurred next happened so fast I hardly had time to register it let alone stop it.

“Oh, honey you’re about to bust right outta that suit. Why don’t you and I go over to the pro shop and get you something that does those curves justices.” She took my hand and tugged me away from the shuttle stop.

“Oh, no, that’s truly not necessary.” I wanted to yank my hand from hers but being so blatantly rude just wasn’t something I could do. “Really, I wouldn’t dream of taking up your time.”

“Oh please, honey. I insist and it’s my treat.” She tugged me into the shop and looked me up and down once more. “That color doesn’t do much for you either. Here we go,” she said pulling a cream-colored suit from the rack. “That’ll fit and do justice to your creamy complexion.” She shoved the suit at me, vaguely motioning for me to take off my own.

I thought about telling her I wouldn’t undress in the middle of the shop. I thought about marching right out and going back to the shuttle stop. But I didn’t. I don’t know why.

“There, now, isn’t that better? Just look at you. You’ve got more curves than a double black diamond slalom! Now, let’s see about those skis.”

In twenty minutes Tammy and I were back at the shuttle stop, having missed the first shuttle of the day. Mr. Tammy, I mean Dale, was noticeably absent. “Oh, no. Did we lose your husband?”

She shook her head, a smile pulling at her ruby lips. “Dale doesn’t much like skiing,” she said.

“But then why—”

Tammy put her arm around me. “Dale lets me drag him to ski resorts because I’m the type who hates being alone. Then, after I’ve found a worthy ski partner for the trip, he’ll disappear in the lodge and get plastered with the other husbands who don’t ski.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “So I’m your pet snow bunny?”

“Oh, now don’t think of it like that, honey. I’m just someone to go on the lifts with who’ll keep away any creepers. That’s not so bad, right?”

I’d read somewhere that introverts sometimes have one extroverted friend who swooped in and simply pronounced their friendship. Tammy was most certainly an extrovert and while I wasn’t necessary introverted as much as I was intentionally isolated, this seemed to prove the notion. I was also grateful for the company.

I smiled and shook my head. “Not at all. But only if we get drinks afterward.”

Tammy squealed with delight. “Absolutely, honey!”

The shuttle was crowded but that was fine, I was on a Tammy high. We found a seat in the back of the shuttle and were on our way to the lifts.

“Hey,” Tammy poked me in the ribs with an elbow. “See that guy up there, he keeps looking back at you.”

I’d been too wrapped up in the Aspen scenery to notice but followed her gaze to a good-looking guy with a rather sappy smile on his face. “I don’t know. I think he’s drunk,” I said.

“He’s happy, honey. That’s what it looks like if you’re not dead on the inside like us.”

A most indelicate noise left my throat—a scoff. “I am not dead inside, Tammy.”

“No. You’re British, that’s even worse.”