- -
- 100%
- +
He extends his hand. “Hey, Gwen, good to see you again,” he says, flashing a grin.
My teeth are still stuck together, so I merely smile and shake his hand. He looks at me kind of funny, and I realize I’m still grasping his hand. I reluctantly give it back to him. Killjoy.
We step away from the door so he can get through, though I’m very tempted to stay put so he has to move me himself. My teeth start to hurt, and I pry them apart.
Mitch steps into the great room, and we follow him.
“So you got everything taken care of at the bank?” Candace asks.
He nods. “I think we’re almost ready for opening day.” He casts a quick glance my way. “We do have one glitch, though.”
I cast my prettiest smile and wonder what that could possibly have to do with me.
“Granny is coming tomorrow,” he says to Candace.
Their eyes lock. “Granny Windsor?”
Judging by the look on Candace’s face, I’m thinking this can’t be good. Yoo-hoo, anyone want to fill me in here?
“Did she say how long she would be staying?”
“Well, you see, that’s the thing,” Mitch says. “She wanted to come and check out my new place. I told her it would be great to have her here. Then the next thing I knew she decided to be the cook for the B and B. I don’t really know how that happened.”
“That’s Granny for you,” Candace says, shaking her head.
Well, this is embarrassing. I’ve barely moved in, and I’m already laid off—before I cook my first meal. Can’t somebody tell Granny I was here first?
“Mitch, you should have told her you had a cook already.”
Hear, hear, Hunky Boy’s sister wins the prize!
“I know,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. I wish I could do that. “But with Grandpa’s death and all, I think she needs to keep busy.”
“Look, Mitch, your compassionate side sometimes goes against your better judgment. We all have struggles we need to work through. Granny will be all right.”
I suddenly realize I’m eavesdropping on a family matter.
Candace turns to me. “Grandpa died about four months ago, and we’re trying to help Granny through it. But don’t let her fool you, she’s a strong one. We have to watch her. She’s usually up to something.”
“She is ornery, but still I want to do what I can to help her.” Mitch looks at me. “That is, I want to help Granny, but I don’t mean to put you out, either. I was thinking you could run Cool Beanz, the coffeehouse, for us. Provide specialty coffees, Danish rolls, sandwiches and soft drinks, that kind of thing. We won’t be serving real meals, other than breakfast, until the business grows and I can add a restaurant.”
I’m feeling better. At least I still have a job. “Sure, I’d be glad to do that.” I’m hoping this doesn’t mean a decrease in pay. I’m already way under my teaching wage. And this is starting to feel like a game of limbo.
“I’ll still pay you the same. You’ll keep plenty busy. I have someone else lined up to help you, too.” He gives me a reassuring smile, and I notice how even and white his teeth are. His lips are perfect, too. Not collagen-large or paper-thin. I’ve never liked men with thin lips. Just freaks me out to think about it.
“Where is Cool Beanz located?” I ask. I don’t remember seeing a building like that before I came into the B and B.
Mitch plops down on the sofa. “Oh, it’s at the top of the slope.”
His words slash through my happy moment. I fall onto the sofa across from him. Great. The top of the mountain is encircled in a cloud. The thought of being up that high makes me gasp for breath.
“You all right?”
A Darth Vader sound has entered the room, and I suddenly realize it’s coming from me. I attempt to swallow my fears and simply nod.
He studies me a minute. The look on his face makes my heart skip. “I saw your skis in the car. I figure with a nice set like that, you’ll enjoy the trip down that slope.” He gives me a sort of studly look as though he had something to do with the mountain being so high.
Mountain. I’ll be working on top of a mountain. I’m trying to swallow here but I can’t. Just won’t happen. I’m wondering if this might be a good time to mention that whole vertigo thing. Or maybe my fear of heights. Better still, perhaps he would like to know that I don’t ski. Actually, “never skied” would be the more appropriate response here.
He stretches his arm across the back of the sofa and smiles as though life couldn’t get any better. “Candace, aside from the deal with Granny, things are perfect. I’ve never been so excited about anything in my life.”
Maybe now is not the best time to tell him.
I look at his strong arm stretched across the sofa and imagine for only a moment what it would be like to snuggle in beside him.
“Hey, nice sweater,” he says, pointing to my multi-colored sweater of reds, yellows and blues.
“Thanks.” The man appreciates color.
“Want some coffee?” Candace asks us both, already making her way toward the kitchen.
“Sounds great,” Mitch says.
“Sure. You need some help?” I ask.
Candace waves me away. “You two get to know each other some more. I’ll take care of the coffee.”
I hear myself gulp, then I turn to Mitch and lift a weak smile.
Despite the snow outside, his hazel eyes warm me clear through. Maybe it’s the fireplace that does it, but maybe not.
“We didn’t get to talk all that much at Lauren and Garrett’s the night we met.”
Oh, I like the way he says, “The night we met.”
“So, tell me more about yourself,” he says with a grin that curls my toes.
Well, let’s see, I’m thirty-two, single, and setting my sights on you, Big Guy. “I’ve been teaching fifth grade since I graduated from college. And as you know, I’ve worked part-time as a cook at the Oasis Restaurant back home.”
“Candace tells me you’re taking a sabbatical to try something new.”
I nod.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he says, eyes sparkling. My heart zips to my throat. “I hope this whole thing works out and you decide to stay on with me.” His gaze shoots straight to my heart.
Did he say “Stay on with me”? Forget that whole “I hope this works out” thing. You name the date, babe, and I’m at the church. I put my left hand in full view in case he wants to check out my ring finger. Mom would be so proud.
Candace steps back into the room. “The coffee is brewing.” She sits on the sofa beside me. “Gwen believes you can do anything you set your mind to, if you want it badly enough.”
Mitch rubs his jaw. “Oh, really?”
I’m feeling a tad less confident than usual because of that whole coffeehouse on the mountain thing, but my bubbly side kicks in. “That’s right. But of course, the key is in wanting it enough.”
He smiles and scoots to the edge of his seat. With elbows on his knees, fingers clasped in front of him, he says, “That’s so true, Gwen.”
“Didn’t I tell you that you would get along, Mitch?” Candace says with a wink.
“That you did,” he says, his gaze never leaving my face. “Then you won’t mind managing Cool Beanz for me?”
Is he kidding? I would climb Mount Everest for him. His smile mesmerizes me, and I almost swallow my tongue. “Oh, uh, no, that will be fine,” I hear myself say. I’ll get some DVDs, search the Internet for diagrams, do whatever it takes to get up and down that mountain, maybe even with skis. How hard can that be?
“Great!” He rubs his hands together eagerly.
“Be right back with the coffee,” Candace says, heading once again to the kitchen.
I really want to tell them both that I don’t ski. I mean, they haven’t even asked me if I ski. I suppose they think everyone skis because they’re from Bliss Village. People here probably give skis at baby showers.
Mitch’s brows furrow. “I hope we continue to get snow late into the season.”
“Doesn’t it last a while in the mountains?” I’m wondering why he’s worrying. It’s not exactly Tumbleweed, Arizona, here.
He brightens. “Yeah, you’re right.” Smile back in place. My toes curl again. I’m beginning to feel like an elf.
Candace brings in the coffee and serves us. We settle in for a nice chat. “Don’t forget about the New Year’s party at Lauren and Garrett’s tonight,” she says.
My eyes lock with Mitch for an instant. I wonder if he’s bringing a date.
“I’ll be there,” Mitch says happily.
“Me, too.” I perk up.
“If I know Lauren, it should be fun,” Candace says before sipping from her cup. “Say, Mitch, since you’re not opening for a few days, are you going to give Gwen time to get to know the area?”
Mitch winks at Candace. “I think we can manage that,” he says.
I’m thinking it would be nice if he took me around town.
“Well, with tomorrow being the start of a new year, everything will be closed. But you could check things out the following day. After that, you can look over our place, get acquainted with the area and Cool Beanz. Anything in particular you want to check out?” he asks.
Another swoosh of adrenaline. Maybe this is an offer. “Oh, I don’t know yet,” I say with a sheepish grin.
“Wish I could take you around, but time won’t allow me. Last-minute details, you know.”
“Sure,” I say, though my heart plunges to my knees. Oh, well, the library might be a good place to start. Surely they have instructional DVDs on how to ski.
“You might want to saunter over to Dream Slopes and check out the competition,” Candace says in her business voice. “Get acclimated with how things are done at a resort when it’s open.”
Mitch sits up again. “Say, that’s a great idea, Candace.” He looks back to me. “Dream Slopes is our closest competition. A ski resort about twenty miles down the road. Bigger than ours, but I’m hoping this place, being a bed-and-breakfast and all, will add a little more charm than the bigger resorts. We’ll try to offer that neighborly touch as opposed to the big hotel chain feel.”
“Great. I’ll check it out,” I say. And maybe I’ll take a skiing lesson while I’m there….
Chapter Three
The bright morning light floods into my room, causing my eyelids to crack open. It takes me a full minute to get used to the idea that a new day has dawned. Still, with the holiday over, I’m looking forward to a brand-new day.
I spent all of yesterday unpacking and getting settled into my room. I also browsed through some ski books I found on a bookshelf downstairs. It had been a restful day, but I’m ready to check out the area now that it’s back to business as usual.
Not wanting to get up yet, I stare at the ceiling. Thoughts of Lauren and Garrett’s party make me smile, even though Mitch had not been able to stay long. Some last-minute detail for the business had cropped up, and he had to take care of it.
My fingertips explore the tangle of hair on my head, and I groan. How can I work up such a snarl in one night?
Guacamole scoots around on the bathroom tile and pulls my attention to him. “Good morning, Guacamole,” I call from my bed. He ignores me completely.
Reptiles can be so cold.
“Well, it’s time to wake up and smell the coffee,” I say, yanking off the down-filled comforters. I happily step into my red slippers and red polka-dotted robe, and walk over to the window. The view makes my breath stick in my throat. I think I’m on top of the world. Then I remember. Um, no, that would be where I’m going to work at the coffeehouse.
A blanket of white covers the mountain and distant slopes. Coming from the deserts of Arizona, I can hardly believe I’m here. Not to mention the mere thought of Mitch makes me drool. That usually only happens when I think of cashews. Yeah, I know. Most women crave chocolate and shopping. Now don’t get me wrong. I love chocolate, too—would never turn it down, as a matter of fact. Still, if I had to choose between chocolate and cashews, well, chocolate would just lose, that’s all. I’m thinking I have definite issues.
Allowing my mind to wander, I stare outside when I suddenly realize someone is waving at me. To my horror, it’s Mitch. He’s dressed in a thick black coat and ski cap and doing that jock kind of quick hand wave. It makes my heart act as though I’ve skied down a two-mile run. All right, so I don’t know anything about that, but I do know about the heart-racing thing. I jerk away from the window. Not only do I not want Mitch to see me, but I’m afraid a giant bald eagle will swoop down, crash through the window and take residence upon my head.
I walk into the bathroom, step around Guacamole, look into the mirror and try not to scream. The man who marries me will either need strong drugs in the morning—espresso straight up, venti size—or have a vision problem, as in, blind. I’m sure it’s the only way we could cohabitate.
Unfortunately, I don’t see Mitch Windsor qualifying for the position. “What’s the matter with me? I mean, it’s not as though I have a chance with this guy anyway,” I say to Guacamole, who is checking out the shower stall. I look back at the mirror. “Besides, he will hate me once he discovers I’m a fair-weather, feet-on-the-ground kind of gal.” I’m talking to myself in a mirror, and I have a bird’s nest on my head. How good can this be? I sigh and seriously consider going back to bed. I’m not officially reporting for duty today. Still, I can’t be a slug. It’s not in my nature.
I haven’t really had a chance to visit Martha Windsor, Candace’s granny, aka the new cook. She arrived last night, and I stayed in my room to give them some family time together. So I figure now might be a good time to get to know her. Once word gets out on the B and B, I suspect we’ll be pretty busy.
After directing Guacamole back to his habitat—not that he’ll stay there—I grab a bright green sweater and khaki pants, and head for the shower.
The scent of strong coffee and spicy sausage greets me as I descend the stairs. The polished wooden banister still calls out to me, but I ignore it. I am, after all, a grown woman.
Martha brings a tray of breakfast dishes to one of the tables in the great room, as Mitch walks through the front door. He walks into the dining area—his face red, and his eyes vibrant. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he teases me when he steps inside. I like that he teases me. At least, I think I do. I hope he doesn’t think of me as a kid sister.
“Hi,” I say with a smile.
Mitch pulls off his black gloves and rubs his hands together. “Granny, that looks great.” He gives her a peck on the cheek.
Oh, I’ll take one of those, I want to say, but of course, I keep silent.
“Mitch, you’re cold,” Granny says with a mock frown. “Get your coat off and come join us.” She turns and stares at me, and to be honest, she doesn’t look all that friendly.
“Hi, I’m Gwen Sandler,” I say, extending my hand.
She shakes her head. “I’ve got to keep my hands clean while I’m handling the food. I hope you like sausage, biscuits and gravy, because that’s all I’m fixing.”
I look over at Mitch, who shrugs and offers an apologetic smile.
“I love it.” Feeling a little nervous, I scoot into my chair. I watch as Martha lifts the dishes from the tray and arranges them on the table. I would help her, but I figure she’d go into this speech about the germs on my hands. I fold my hands and hide them on my lap. My fingers turn the colored bracelets on my right wrist, a habit I acquired shortly after my thumb-sucking days ended.
Soon the table is spread with a feast fit for a king.
“This looks fantastic, Granny,” Mitch says.
She snaps her head forward. “Well, what did you expect? I’ve been cooking for fifty years.” She throws me a look that says, “Try and top that one, sister.”
I’m wondering if I’ve done something to offend her. I retrace my steps and can’t imagine what. She hasn’t known me long enough. She doesn’t seem rude, really, just a granny with attitude. Sort of the Granny Clampett type. Come to think of it, she kind of resembles her, too. Hair pulled back in a tight bun, her body thin and wiry.
Out of the blue she says to me, “Don’t call me Martha. Everybody calls me Granny.” I almost see the hint of a smile here.
Mitch slips into his chair beside me. I shiver a moment for no reason at all. Well, except for the fact Mitch is so close I can smell his cologne. It reminds me of the great outdoors, fresh and energetic. Intoxicating. I want to lean into him and take a deep whiff, but then I remember my manners.
Without another word, Mitch and Granny join hands, then Mitch reaches for mine. They bow their heads, and he begins to pray for the meal. I try hard to concentrate on the prayer, I really do, but my palm is getting all sweaty, and I’m wondering if he’ll notice. Plus I can feel the pulse in my fingers. And it’s very fast. This is so embarrassing. He’ll think I’m nervous, that I lack confidence. That I’m a wimp—or worse, that I have an artery problem.
I hear him say “amen,” and I lift an apology heavenward for failing to participate in the prayer. I toss a quick smile to Mitch, hide my sweaty palm under the table and quickly wipe my hand on my khaki pants. Probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
Granny picks up the plate of biscuits and passes them.
“So you’re going to Dream Slopes this morning, you said?” Mitch asks as he takes a couple of biscuits and passes the plate to me.
“Thanks.” My bracelets rattle as I take the plate. I remove one biscuit. I’d rather have three, but I want to appear the dainty female, even though I’m not. “Yeah. I wanted to check it out.”
“Great,” he says.
I feel proud that he’s happy with my decision. Funny that it’s important to me to please him. But after all, he is my boss.
He scoops some scrambled eggs onto his plate and smothers his biscuits with gravy. “They have a nice place, there’s no denying that. But ours will be nicer.” He looks at me and winks. “I’ll take you to Cool Beanz when you get back.”
I try to ignore the goose bumps crawling up my arm and take a tiny little bite from my naked biscuit. Did I mention I passed up the gravy? After the meal I think I’ll sneak into the kitchen and lick the pan.
“Monica Howell does a fine job of running the place, but she doesn’t always play by the rules,” he says.
“Oh, don’t tell me that girl is still up to her tricks.” Granny spreads some jelly on her biscuit. “That one sure does need prayer,” Granny says before taking a bite of her biscuit.
“I know,” he says with a sigh. “Sometimes she gets me all stirred up, and prayer is the last thing I think about when it comes to Monica.”
“From what your family has told me, she could try the patience of Job,” Granny says.
They’ve piqued my interest in Monica. I’m wondering how old this woman is, what kind of personality she has, what she does that gets Mitch all stirred up.
He turns to me. “Monica is thirty-four, divorced and drop-dead gorgeous.” Mitch must have read my mind.
Excuse me? Do I want to hear this? I’m thinking no.
“I went to school with her. But her charm is only on the outside, believe me.”
Can anybody really be all that bad? I always believe the best in people. I can’t help it. Innocent until proven guilty is my motto.
Granny and Mitch share a glance.
“See, in high school Monica and I dated. She never quite forgave me for losing interest and moving on. Still, we’ve maintained a civil relationship through the years. It doesn’t help that I now have a business in direct competition with hers.” He plops the last bite of biscuit in his mouth and shrugs. “That quote about a woman scorned sure is true.”
“You got that right,” Granny says with an ornery chuckle. “But in all fairness, from what I hear, she hasn’t had it so easy.”
“Yeah, must be tough growing up with all that wealth,” he says with sarcasm.
Granny raises her eyebrows. “And you’ve lived in poverty?”
Mitch grins. “All right, so you’ve got me there.”
I’m enjoying their conversation, even if I feel a little excluded at the moment.
“Enough about Monica.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Thanks for breakfast, Granny. It was delicious. I’ve got to get back out there and check the rope tow and ski lifts—make sure everything is running as smoothly as a beginner’s slope.” He scoots out his chair and puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll see you in a little while.” Putting on his coat, he grabs his hat and gloves and heads out the door.
My shoulder tingles where his fingers had been, and I linger there a moment.
“You want anything else?” Granny asks as she rises from her chair and starts to clear the table.
“No, thank you.” I want to add that I’m stuffed so she’ll think I eat next to nothing, but that would be a flat-out lie. I’m not stuffed. I’m starving. I consider throwing myself on the biscuits and gravy, but decide against it. Instead, I lift some dishes to help clean off the table.
“Nope, this is my work,” Granny says with a possessive edge to her voice.
My hands have been slapped so I will know my place around here. I’ll have to work my way into her heart. In the meantime, I go to my room to get ready for my trip to Dream Slopes. Once inside, I see Guacamole nosing around the handbag that I had left on the floor. “Oh, no, you don’t,” I say, scooping it up. I have to keep everything out of his reach, or he’ll hurt himself.
Which reminds me. I haven’t told Mitch about Guacamole yet. Good grief. He doesn’t know about my iguana. He probably won’t mind, but an iguana is hardly a normal household pet. He also doesn’t know I can’t ski. The man will throw me out. I have to tell him. And soon.
The cold air stings my cheeks as I purchase my ski ticket at Dream Slopes and head for the entrance. My fingertips hide in my gloves and tingle from the chill.
Skiers and alpine trees dot the mountainside, giving the scene a winter wonderland feel to it. The sky boasts a vibrant blue with only a smattering of shredded clouds drifting lazily along. God creates the most incredible color. I take a satisfying breath. Before leaving the B and B, I changed into my new purple ski suit, new gold-colored coat, gold-and-purple stretchy band around my head and matching ski gloves—complete with the leather strip for grabbing the rope tow. I feel quite the skier. My snow boots keep my feet warm as I trudge through the snow toward the rental building.
I could get into this. In fact, this is downright fun. The air invigorates my spirit, and I’m convinced I’ve done the right thing in taking this job. If I were back in Tumbleweed, I’d be in a stuffy old building, standing in front of a class of rowdy fifth graders, trying to make my voice be heard in hopes of teaching them a lesson or two.
I take a deep breath of the mountain air and feel thankful down to my toes. I think there’s something to this whole mountaintop experience thing.
Once inside the rental building, I have to fill out some sort of card, giving my height, weight, experience as a skier, that type of thing. I’m not real excited about telling my weight to a total stranger. I mean, social security number is one thing, but weight? Anyway, the young woman looks nice enough, so I figure I can trust her not to spread the news.
She directs me to the next person, who looks over the card and looks at me as though I’ve lied about the weight thing. I didn’t fudge, not even a little bit. I figure I’ll never see these people again. Who cares if they know I’m not a size two? It’s obvious anyway. With all these winter wraps on, almost everyone could be a candidate for plus-size clothes.
The woman directs me to the ski boots and then tells me how to proceed to get my skis. I admit it. I’m excited. This is totally out of character for me. Not the excited part, but the stepping out and doing something out of the ordinary. I mean, I enjoy a challenge, adventure, all that, but within the confines of my safety bubble. But away from home? Away from what I know and hold dear? That’s a completely new adventure for me. A bit risky. Kind of scary and invigorating all at the same time.