“Shoes,” Skylar managed, jostling the bundle of clothing that filled her arms.
“What kind?” the young woman asked, eyes wide in interest.
“Boots. But not four-thousand dollar alligators,” Skylar laughed. “That’s a bit out of my league.”
“I hear you,” the clerk commented. “You need indoor or outdoor? Ski boots or dress boots? Fur lined or suede lined? Waterproof or stain resistant? We’ve got ’em all.”
“Maybe indoor and outdoor. Not too fancy,” Skylar started, not sure what else to say. “Guess I need everything. Or whatever you think a person moving here from Florida needs. I have no idea what I’m getting into…and I’m on a tight budget,” she decided to add. “I just want to be comfortable, okay?”
A huge grin spread over the salesgirl’s face. “Sure, I get it.” She extended a hand. “I’m Cindy. Let me take those things from you so we can get busy, Miss…”
“Skylar. Skylar Webster.”
“Okay, Skylar. Leave it all to me. I think I know exactly what you need. Plus, you came at the right time, too. We’re having our annual ‘Freeze-Out Sale,’ and quite a few items are reduced. I’ll be right back.” The clerk hurried away, placed the bundle of clothing inside a dressing room and returned within seconds, a pamphlet in her hand. “Here’s a list of the essentials, things you must have if you want to be both stylish and comfortable while vacationing in Aspen.”
Skylar glanced over the colorful pamphlet and sighed. “I’m not really vacationing, and I don’t ski. You see, I’m going to be working at Scenic Ridge.”
“Oh, yeah, the ski school, right? Great. What are you going to be doing?”
“I’m the new concierge.”
“All right. You go, girl. Beautiful place. I went up there once with a friend of mine a few years ago. The road is tricky, though. Real narrow in places. Be careful on your way up.”
“Really? Thanks for warning me.”
“So, you’re from Florida, huh?” Cindy went on as she walked Skylar across the store. “What made you come up here?”
Skylar paused, knowing she ought to be careful. Aspen was not a very big place. It wouldn’t take long for information about her to spread if she started telling too much, and she didn’t want to take any chances. All this clerk really needed was her dress size, her shoe size and her credit card. Why bother to get into why she left Tampa or how long she planned to stay? “I have relatives in the area, and just wanted to be near them,” she said, satisfied with her half-truth.
“You’ve come to the right place to get outfitted, then,” Cindy said, stopping near a section of the store that was brimming with turtlenecks, blouses, slacks and jackets in every color and style imaginable.
“Okay. I’m lost, Cindy. Tell me what I need,” Skylar commented, fingering a silky top as she set off to create her new wardrobe.
For the next hour, Skylar tried on a variety of slacks, tops, parkas, boots, sweaters, socks, gloves and hats. By the time she was completely outfitted she was exhausted, and her checking account was about to be a little thinner, though, with Cindy’s guidance, she had found some very good bargains. Among them were a hooded parka with a fluffy raccoon collar, several thermo-stretch ski pants with matching tops, over-the-boot pants with coordinated wool cardigans, suede gloves and a Daniel Boone-style coyote hat.
“Fabulous choices,” Cindy remarked as she finished ringing up Skylar’s purchases. “And you saved a bit, too. But…oh my gosh, we forgot one very important item. Sunglasses and goggles. Up here, they’re absolutely necessary. Gotta cover those eyes and keep those wrinkles away. And if you do decide to get out on the slopes, you don’t want to go snow-blind, do you?” Cindy giggled and inclined her head toward a wall at the back of the shop. “Why don’t you go pick out a pair of sunglasses while I package your purchases and finish up here? And if you give me your car keys, I’ll have one of the stock boys put everything in your car.”
Trusting Cindy’s advice once again, Skylar handed over the keys to the Jeep she had rented at the airport and told Cindy where she was parked. Doing as she was told, she walked toward the back of the store where a number of display stands with a variety of sunglasses and goggles filled a corner.
Skylar stopped at the first display and selected a pair of shades with brown, tortoiseshell frames, slipped them on and then shook her head. Not for her. They didn’t flatter her face at all. After several more try-ons, she moved over to the next rack to stand opposite a man and a woman who were discussing a pair of black wraparound goggles.
The man was wearing a red down jacket with the hood thrown back, exposing a mass of tawny-brown hair that almost touched his shoulders. Skylar found the sight intriguing, yet a bit unnerving. How could a man have such gorgeous hair? Skylar thought, curious to see more of him. She edged forward a few inches and cut her eyes in his direction, visually following him as he walked over to a full-length mirror and tried on the goggles. She observed that his hair had a definite wave to it and his skin was golden tan. Skylar was pretty sure he was African-American, or at least of African descent.
After adjusting his goggles a few times, the man turned around and looked over at Skylar, catching her watching him.
With a start, she gasped and glanced away, unsure of why she had reacted so strongly, but keenly aware that she had been struck by something magnetic and powerful radiating from the guy, who quickly returned to studying his image in the mirror.
Curious, she chanced another peek. He looked mature. Maybe late thirties, she thought. She was stunned that she was actually calculating this stranger’s age and checking out his left hand. Umm…no ring there. However, he did have a flashy sparkler on his little finger.
Either this brother is filthy rich or seriously into high-profile bling, she decided, certain that the stone flashing back at her was much too large to be real.
Moving to another rack of glasses, she acted as if she was trying to pick out another to try on as she fingered a wire-rimmed pair, trying to ignore the guy. But she couldn’t resist peering over at him once more, and this time she really scrutinized features not hidden by his wraparound goggles. He had a prickly stubble of light brown hair shading his jaw and a tiny gold earring in his left ear. His nose, softly sculpted and wide at the base settled nicely above a set of perfectly shaped, white teeth that peeked out from behind lips that were generously full and wickedly sensuous.
Very kissable lips, she thought, sighing inwardly while admonishing herself for even thinking such crazy thoughts. She had come to Aspen to clear her mind, help her sister out and get over Lewis’s betrayal, not check out the available brothers or get romantically involved with a new man. But what harm was there in looking? she asked herself, liking what she saw.
She guessed that the eyes hidden behind those dark glasses were probably hazel, or maybe golden-brown like tiger’s eyes, and wondered if the broad stretch of his shoulder line was natural or the result of the padding in his parka. His skin, a beautiful tannish golden brown that perfectly matched his hair, stood in definite contrast to the woman with him, who was pale, blonde and ski-pole thin.
The blonde looked over and squinted, not happy to catch Skylar watching her man. The two locked eyes for a moment before Skylar broke off and focused on the sunglasses, putting the oddly matched couple and her curiosity about the guy out of her thoughts.
After a few quick try-ons, Skylar decided on a pair of silver framed aviators with bronze lenses reduced from $199 to $59.99. Turning, she prepared to leave.
“I wouldn’t get those if I were you,” the man in the red jacket told Skylar.
“Excuse me?” Skylar said, startled by the stranger’s remark.
“Those won’t do the job on the slopes. You need something with better protection,” he admonished, as if talking to a child. “Inside the store, they look a lot darker than they are. Outside, they won’t cut much light.”
“Thanks, but I think they’ll do just fine,” Skylar replied, trying to so
und pleasant, even though his remark had struck her as rather presumptuous. He might be good looking but he wasn’t cute enough to take orders from. What did he know about sunglasses that made him such an expert anyway? She liked the aviators and they were exactly what she wanted.
“Try on the black wraps. You’ll love them,” the man suggested nonchalantly.
With a drop of her shoulders, Skylar simply stared at him as if he were crazy. She was tired, hungry and more than ready to get out of the store. The glasses in her hand would do just fine. It was getting late and she still had to stop at the drugstore to pick up a few toiletries and then hit the gas station to top off the tank of her rented Jeep before setting off to Scenic Ridge. She shook her head, “No thanks. I’ve got to get going.” She started to walk away.
“Trust me. They won’t be what you want,” the man in the red parka called out after Skylar.
His bossy tone set her teeth on edge. She stopped in mid-stride and whirled around. Who the hell are you to tell me what to buy? But, blinking her eyes and sucking back a smart remark, she decided it might not be a good idea to go off on the guy in public. This was a classy place and she didn’t want to make a scene, but it was hard to keep from flaring up at him.
“I’m fine with these,” she managed in a tight voice, thinking that the guy had some kind of an accent that she couldn’t place. Not African. Not Hispanic. And not French. He must be from the islands…overly friendly. Or he didn’t know any better, she decided, willing to forgive his rude behavior. “I appreciate your interest,” she told him. “However, I prefer the ones I picked out.”
“You’ll be sorry,” he insisted as he reached for a pair of Manu wraps similar to those that both he and the blonde woman were wearing. He held them up and swung them back and forth in Skylar’s face. “These are a bit more expensive than the aviators, but if you can afford them, I’d go with these. Think of it as an investment in your eyes.”
His condescending tone hit a nerve in Skylar that sent a hot flash into her chest. “If I can afford them?” she tossed back, trying to keep her voice within some kind of a normal range. “That’s a rude thing to say. How dare you insinuate that I have to worry about money? Do I look like a sister who has money problems?” she asked, biting down hard on her bottom lip to keep from blurting out the secret she was determined to keep as long as she was in Aspen.
“No, no,” the man stuttered helplessly, obviously embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that at all.”
Skylar glared at him, unable to respond. She was wearing dark rinse jeans, a white cable knit sweater, a brown leather bomber jacket and brown ankle boots. Her jewelry was understated, but real gold, and she knew her hairstylist back in Tampa had hooked up her locks just fine before she left town. I might not look like a fashion diva, but I know I don’t look ghetto, either, she told herself. In her most flippant, sister-girl voice, she told the guy, “Look. You don’t even know me, so don’t get too personal, okay? I don’t need your help, and I surely don’t need your investment advice.”
The man threw up both hands and stepped back, smiling. “Hey. Sorry if I offended you. I was only trying to help you save money in the long run. I was just offering a tip from experience.”
“Leave her alone,” the blond woman now interjected, moving close and slipping her arm possessively through her companion’s. She graced Skylar with a smug, too-sweet smile, and clutched her apparent boyfriend’s jacket sleeve even harder. “If the lady wants to waste her money, let her. We have other things to do than worry about her. I told you I wanted to go over to Duval’s. Come on,” she said and gave the guy’s arm a hard tug.
Infuriated by the man’s intrusion, the woman’s catty remark and her fake smile, Skylar was tempted to snatch a handful of curly blonde hair from the woman’s head. But instead, she rolled her eyes at the nosy couple and spun around. If they’re the kind of people I’ll have to deal with up here, then this temporary gig is going to be hell. Deena owes me big-time.
Mark watched the woman with the aviators push through the glass door and disappear, wondering who she was and where she was staying. Though his face appeared calm, his heart was pounding a steady drum beat inside his chest and he couldn’t understand why. The woman was attractive in a refreshingly wholesome way that he rarely saw among the stressed-out, wealthy, high-strung types that usually frequented Gorsuch’s. Beautiful, flawless brown skin. Not too tall, but not too short, either. Well dressed, but not flamboyantly attired in trendy, overpriced clothing. She was a fresh vision in this spend-crazy, out-to-impress kind of town.
A real natural beauty!
While waiting for the clerk to ring up the sale, he glanced out the front window and saw the woman in the bronze aviators drive off in a bright red Jeep. Mark smiled. She’d be easy to find. All he had to do was pass out a bunch of twenty dollar bills to the doormen at every hotel in town and sooner or later he’d get a call informing him who she was and where she was staying. The thought of tracking down the beautiful stranger created a warm glow of anticipation that spread throughout Mark’s body and made him want to thank Goldie for smashing her goggles against a pine tree yesterday and forcing him into town.
Chapter 5
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 t
urn 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.
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