Chapter 3
Angelica headed for the car-rental agency at Denver International Airport just as she had numerous times in the past. She never tired of seeing the extensive art collection as she made her way through the airport, where she’d reserved a four-wheel-drive vehicle. Sculptures, murals, and dozens of paintings rivaled those in many of New York City’s museums.
She located the rental booth quickly, placing her carry-on beside her as she joined the other travelers in the lengthy line. She’d never seen the line quite so long but remembered it was the Christmas season. Like New York City during the holidays, the Colorado city was transformed into a shiny magical land of dreams and never-ending cheer. This was her first trip away from the city during the holiday season. Suddenly, she doubted her decision to leave, to ski and pretend her life was as it should be.
It could be worse, she thought, as she viewed the long lines at the other car-rental counters. She had her health, a decent amount of savings, and a home of her own. Sort of. Hers and the bank who held the mortgage. For now, Angelica figured this was as good as it was going to get. She decided she would enjoy the next two weeks and forget about her acting career and anything connected to New York. Or at least she would try.
As she waited in the ever-growing line, she observed the scene around her. Tourists from all over the world occupied every available inch of space. Some carried gigantic pieces of luggage. Others, like herself, pulled a small carry-on behind them, while some, mostly people with families, pushed fancy strollers as small children lugged mini-suitcases with their favorite superhero characters emblazoned on them. Backpacks of every shape, size, and color perched on the backs of many. Businessmen in Brooks Brothers suits carried their iPads in soft leather cases. Angelica couldn’t help but smile. Technology. She hadn’t upgraded to the latest and greatest in the technological field since her profession didn’t require much more than a telephone, but someday she’d investigate the high-tech world and decide if the leap was worth it.
Slowly, the line inched forward. She continued to peruse her surroundings while she waited. The voices of children could be heard throughout the airport, their shouts of welcome and cries of good-bye suddenly making her homesick for the familiar sights and sounds of New York City. The scents from street-side vendors hawking roasted chestnuts, skewers of overcooked meat, and soggy hot dogs permeated the city. The acrid odor from the subway, and the exhaust from hundreds of taxis that traversed the city, were as familiar and comforting to her as a child’s favorite blanket—which brought to mind the red and green afghan she’d knitted years ago and had kept in her tiny dressing room at the Forty-seventh Street Playhouse. She’d left it there after her last performance and had never gone back to retrieve it. Maybe another young actor could use it. The backstage at the theater was always too cold anyway. Her last conversation with Al let her know she was on the downside of her career. There wouldn’t be time to knit backstage while waiting for her call. At her age, she’d be lucky to get an acting job in a dinner theater. The kind where the actors and actresses waited tables in between acts.
She should’ve gone to college. Studied literature. She’d bet the bank she wouldn’t be out of a job if that were the case. The line started to move, jarring her from her negative thoughts. ’Tis the season, she thought, and forced a smile. For the next two weeks, she was not going to think about her career or lack of one.
She’d said that twice to herself already.
No, she was going to ski until she dropped, drink hot toddies by the fireplace, curl up with a good book at the end of the day. Do whatever she pleased, and all by herself.
Another wave of sadness overwhelmed her.
“Stop!” she whispered harshly. When she saw several people glance at her, she did what she knew best. She plastered a huge grin on her face and acted as though she hadn’t a clue why they were staring at her.
When it was her turn at the counter, Angelica removed the required driver’s license and credit card from her wallet, signed on the dotted line, and listened carefully to the agent’s instructions. She’d asked for a vehicle equipped with a GPS just in case. The last thing she wanted was to get lost in the Colorado mountains. Not that she planned on leaving Maximum Glide, the ski resort where she planned to ski and sip all those hot toddies. She had splurged and rented a small cabin located midway up the mountain. She could’ve stayed in Telluride itself, but Angelica wanted time to reflect and come to a decision. Being isolated would force her to focus on her choice of careers.
With the keys to her rental in hand, she found the automatic doors leading to the parking garage. Instantly, they swished open, allowing the frigid wintry air into the overly warm airport for the briefest of seconds. Angelica shivered, glad that she’d worn her heavy parka. New York was cold, yes, but she thought Denver downright bone-chilling as she searched the giant lot for her vehicle’s designated parking space.
After walking for what felt like a mile, Angelica spied the white Lincoln Navigator. A male attendant wearing olive khakis and a rich brown jacket greeted her, asking her to wait while he inspected the vehicle for scratches and dents. He walked around the SUV twice, then handed her a pink slip of paper attached to a clipboard. She signed the slip.
“We’re supposed to get some nasty weather tonight,” he said as he inspected her signature. “Be careful.”
Having spent her entire adult life in New York City, she wasn’t the most experienced driver in the world. Too bad there wasn’t a taxi or a subway to deliver her to her destination. “Uh, what do you mean by ‘nasty’?”
The young guy gave her a quick once-over. “Blizzard nasty. The Interstate closes in bad weather. If you’re heading to the mountains, you’d best be on your way.”
Angelica thanked him. Using the key fob to unlock the hatch, she placed her luggage in the back before sliding into the driver’s seat.
Knowing she had several hours of driving ahead of her, it suddenly occurred to her that it would be very late by the time she reached her cabin. As she adjusted her seat belt and rearview mirror she remembered that she had to program the GPS. She located the Post-it note crumpled inside her denim bag that had the address on it. It took several minutes for her to become at ease with the GPS before she tapped the address on the touch screen. When she saw the travel time and mileage displayed on the flat screen and realized she had a six-and-a-half-hour road trip ahead of her, she became weak in the knees.
“Darn, what was I thinking?” she asked out loud.
“I wasn’t,” she answered herself as she drove out of the underground parking lot.
Realizing it was too late to rectify her mistake, she looked at the time. Just after four thirty. She’d be lucky to make it to her rental cabin by midnight. If the car-rental attendant was right, and the weather took a nosedive, she was in trouble. Big-time. She didn’t know her way around Colorado and wasn’t as well traveled as one would expect for a woman her age. Living in New York City, she had everything one could possibly need without benefit of an automobile. There was no need to learn how to navigate through a blizzard. That’s what taxis and subways were for. And if those were not available in a really bad snowstorm, then one just stayed home.
As she piloted her way through the congested roads around the airport, she focused on the task of driving, paying close attention to the animated female voice coming from the GPS. She should have booked a flight directly to Telluride and saved herself the aggravation of the long drive. She’d been in such a rush to leave after her phone call with Al, she hadn’t really cared where she was headed as long as it was away from New York. Now that she had calmed down a bit, she saw the stupidity of her actions. The drive was going to take longer than the flight had.
An hour later, Angelica was cruising along on Colorado’s I-70. So far, so good. Traffic wasn’t too bad, and she found a radio station that played nothing but Christmas music. The weather was holding its own, too.
Maybe the trip wasn’t going to be so bad after all.