Читать книгу Suite Embrace - Anita Bunkley - Страница 9

Deena Simpson walked out onto the balcony of her five-room apartment on the fourth floor of the main lodge at Scenic Ridge, her cell phone pressed to her ear. Shading her eyes with one hand, she focused on the narrow winding road that led up from Woody Creek, watching for Skylar’s Jeep. The only drivers who would be on the road that curved and twisted as it rose into the mountains were those bound for Scenic Ridge, as it dead-ended at the two stone posts that flanked the front gates of the resort.

“Where are you now?” she spoke into the phone, getting a bit anxious. Skylar had called her from the airport when she arrived in Aspen to tell Deena that she was going to stop in town to pick up a few things, but would be right along. That had been three hours ago. Deena guessed that her suddenly rich sister had decided to do some major retail damage in town. And she deserves to, Deena thought, elated that the Dorchester settlement had been so generous, freeing Skylar from any financial worries for the rest of her life—if she managed her money well.

It was amazing to think that Skylar was a rich woman now, and could buy whatever she wanted. When she and Deena were children, their hard-working parents had earned just enough money to cover life’s necessities, with little left over to indulge their children. They had been ultraconservative in their spending and cautious about everything they did, refusing to take risks or try anything new that might upset their carefully balanced lives. Deena often thought that her parents’ approach to life was what had made her run off to Colorado and marry Jerome. His plan to build a ski school in Aspen country was bold, risky and exciting. Now, her life in the mountains was very far removed from her childhood upbringing, and Deena never regretted setting off on this grand adventure with her husband.

“Have you passed the covered bridge yet?” she asked. “You have? Good, then you’re on the right road. Just stay on it and keep driving uphill, even when it narrows down to a single lane and you think you’re going to drive off the edge. Trust me, you won’t. See you in a bit.”

Deena snapped off the phone and leaned against the rough pine railing that surrounded the spacious wraparound balcony.

As she waited for Skylar, she surveyed the spectacular wintry landscape spread out across the two hundred acres that she and Jerome had turned into a working ski school and vacation resort over the past twenty years. As newlyweds and avid skiers, they had purchased the remote parcel of land at the upper end of the Roaring Fork Valley from Jerome’s father for a fraction of its market value. The land, part of a land grant settlement originally deeded to Jerome’s great-great-grandfather, had remained wild and undeveloped for over fifty years.

Jerome and Deena threw themselves into the project with a great deal of enthusiasm, risking everything they owned to create the small, intimate teaching resort. It had been a struggle to turn a profit, but now it was beginning to draw ski enthusiasts and students from across the country as well as from some of the more popular resorts in the Aspen area.

The main lodge of Scenic Ridge was a four-story replica of a classic Swiss mountain chalet, but with all the conveniences of a modern hotel. Years ago, when she and Jerome were designing the main lodge they decided to turn the east-facing end of the fourth floor into their private five-room apartment, decorated in a sleek modern style, while the guest suite at the other end of the hall had a definite Western flair.

Each of the other fifty-two guest rooms was exquisitely decorated in an Old World European manner with touches of the silver mining days of the Victorian West tossed in.

In addition to the main lodge, five private cabins that represented the ultimate in modern convenience and rustic charm were strategically placed around the property, booked by those who were willing to pay a premium price for the privacy and independence such accommodations provided.

As African-Americans living in an area of the country where less than two percent of the population was nonwhite, Deena and Jerome had quickly realized that the only way to attract more folks like themselves to the slopes was to build a resort that was affordable, comfortable and focused on teaching people how to ski. Deena and Jerome decided to take on the task of teaching beginners what they needed to know to take up skiing as a recreational sport and send a message to everyone of any class or race that all were welcome and would feel at home while learning how to safely hit the powder and have a good time.

By optimizing the available terrain on their property, Deena and Jerome served the needs of beginning skiers, ice-skaters and snowboarders, creating a niche resort that differed from the larger ski areas.

It did not take long for news about Scenic Ridge to spread as visitors told others about the program and returned year after year. For African-American skiers, it soon became known as one of the most unique novice programs in the country. Jerome had further enhanced the resort’s reputation and expanded its customer base among minorities by hiring Mark Jorgen as their ski instructor. Mark was a great draw and he guaranteed that he could teach students to ski confidently on green circle trails within three days or they would get their money back. So far, no refunds had been made.

Today, there was absolutely no breeze stirring the cool January air, and the warmth of the sunlight on Deena’s pecan-brown face felt calming and most reassuring. She pushed back a few strands of black hair that had sprung from the loosely gathered ponytail she had managed to pull together this morning and sighed. She had hit the ground running as soon as the buzz of her alarm clock sounded at 5:00 a.m., and though it was just a little past noon, she felt as if she had already put in a full day’s work.

Yesterday, she had stood in the same spot where she was now waiting for Skylar and watched Jerome drive away, her heart filled with dread. By now he was in Oregon and probably at the hospital waiting for his father to go into surgery. Deena missed him terribly and was worried about how she was going to manage the place in his absence, especially since Jean-Paul was no longer on staff.

Losing Jean-Paul to a Hyatt Regency had been disappointing. She and Jerome had always depended on their long-time concierge to handle the messy, unexpected situations that came with running a ski resort. Now, they’d only have Skylar.

Today was starting off rocky. The grocery delivery had come up short—missing twenty-five pounds of baby back ribs and the case of a hard-to-locate Norwegian liquor Deena had counted on having tonight. And with all of that to deal with, she’d had to pacify Goldie Lamar’s very demanding party, and she was sick to death of all of them.

The road suddenly narrowed down to less than a full lane, making Skylar very nervous. Though the road’s surface was covered with a mixture of gravel and hard-packed snow, it provided good traction. Still she worried that the Jeep was going to spin out of control and crash down the mountainside at any moment. The sun was directly overhead, bathing the snow-covered hills with blinding light that made it nearly impossible to see.

“Dammit!” Skylar cursed aloud, ripping off her sunglasses, which she tossed out the window. The guy in the store had been right! The bronze aviators were useless. They didn’t block the glare and even made things worse by casting an amber sheen over everything. Squinting bare-eyed into the windshield and praying that Deena’s instructions were right, Skylar pressed on, clutching the steering wheel as she inched her way up the mountainside.

When Deena’s cell phone rang again, she answered quickly, certain it was Skylar asking for more directions. However, it wasn’t her sister. It was Burt from the liquor store in town.

“What do you mean, you can’t find it?” she groaned.

“There’s not a case of Linie Aquavit in the entire valley. At least not that I can get my hands on right away. The St. Regis has four cases, but they’re not willing to part with them.”

“But you said getting Linie Aquavit wouldn’t be a problem,” Deena reminded her beverage vendor.

“Yes, I know,” Burt admitted. “Guess I was a bit overconfident. However, I do have Vikingfjord Vodka in stock and I can send up a case right away.”

“No. That won’t do,” Deena shot back. “This is a very special client and he specifically requested Linie Aquavit. So, please keep trying to locate it, okay? Even if you can only find one bottle.”

“Will do,” Burt agreed. “I’ll get back to you later today.”

Clicking off, Deena sagged against the railing, feeling deflated, while praying that Burt would be able to come through with the specialty drink as he’d promised. However, in case he couldn’t, she had better let her client know that his request might not be fulfilled today.

Just as she was about to place the call, she saw Skylar’s red Jeep turn into the entry and start up the road leading to the main lodge. Shoving her phone into the pocket of her jeans, Deena hurried to the outside staircase and headed down to greet her new concierge. “Let Skylar deal with the missing Norwegian liquor,” she muttered to herself, sending up a prayer of thanks that help had finally arrived.

After Skylar dropped her bags in the efficient studio apartment where she would live during her stay at the lodge, she and Deena set off on a tour of the resort, during which she met all of the staff. Everyone greeted her with an enthusiastic welcome, making Skylar feel less nervous about her decision to set off on this spontaneous adventure. However, when Deena suggested that they ride out in a snowmobile to explore the rest of the property, Skylar had to decline.

“All of a sudden, I feel so tired, Deena. Lightheaded and dizzy,” Skylar complained, drawing in a deep breath as she and Deena crossed the attractive lounge area. A fire blazed in the massive stone fireplace where some of the guests had gathered to chat and sip drinks, while others sat on high bar stools facing windows that showcased the picture perfect peaks surrounding the resort.

“Think I’ll go lie down for a while,” Skylar said.

“Good idea. It’s the altitude,” Deena offered, pausing at the foot of the winding staircase that led to the mezzanine on the second floor where someone was playing the piano. She placed one hand on the banister and scrutinized Skylar with concern. “It might take a few days for you to get fully acclimated to the thin air up here, but it’ll pass.”

Skylar shook her head and blew air through her lips. “Whew! This is not good. My head aches, my stomach is doing flips and I feel as if my skull is stuffed with cotton balls.”

Deena nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, mountain sickness. Strikes quite a few of our guests. It’s caused by a sudden lack of oxygen after moving too quickly into a higher elevation. Your body hasn’t adjusted to having less oxygen.”

“Right…and my body’s sure tellin’ me I’m not in Tampa anymore! What’s it gonna take to pull out of this?”

“Drink lots of water and stay away from alcohol. Go ahead and lie down for a while. I’ll give you a buzz at dinnertime.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Skylar replied, moving swiftly toward the elevator, desperate to lie down.