Page 5 of Stuck on the Slopes

“Thanks. Once I drop off my stuff, I’m ready to go if you are.”

“Might as well get this over with, yeah.”

Her brows rose, but she said nothing.

“Sorry, that sounded meaner than I intended.”

“It’s okay.”

This conversation needed to end before I fucked it up even more. “Drop your stuff off. I’m going to get Squatch’s vest on, and then we can go.”

I didn’t even give her the chance to say anything before I keyed open my door, let Sasquatch in, and then slammed it behind us. I faintly heard Rachel’s door across the hall open.

“It’s a good thing you’re here,” I said to Sasquatch as I grabbed his vest. He waited patiently for me to dress him. “She’d probably quit if I didn’t have you for a fuzzy buffer.”

Once Sasquatch was ready to go, I made one stop in the kitchen before having to face Rachel again. Today was what I called an Extra Dose Day where I treated myself to three doses of my medication instead of two. Since there was no harm in it and I knew my limit, I kept this to days when I was extra stressed or exhausted.

The current ache in my leg and my attitude, so bad evenIwas self-aware, meant it was an Extra Dose Day.

Once I opened the medicine drawer and grabbed the tincture bottle, I filled the stopper to the 0.25 ML marker with the yellow-colored oil, dropped it under my tongue, and then was finally ready to behave like a normal human. The first time I’d taken them, the skunky taste hit me like a battering ram, but now, I barely noticed it, instead focusing on the sweet undertones. Upon putting my meds away, eager to feel the relief I knew would hit within the next few minutes, I held the door open for Sasquatch and saw Rachel leaning against her door.

Despite the rough start, she actually smiled at me. Part of me doubted it was genuine.

“Okay,” I said. “Welcome to the lodge. Still open to name suggestions.”

“We’ll think of something,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll come to me as we walk around.”

“I’ve been telling myself that for the last eight months.”

“Well, luckily for you, branding and PR are my specialties.”

Rachel walked with her hands clasped behind her back. We moved back through the lobby where some photos of the nearby Rocky Mountains and elk surrounding a lake either hung on the wooden walls or were on the floor, leaning against the spot where I’d meant to put them up. The antler chandelier swung overhead, installed only a month ago.

“It’s beautiful in here,” she said. “The rooms are nice, too.”

“They’re all in that suite style like ours are,” I said. What I didn’t mention was I had the first floor renovated first. While I rarely needed the disability aids in the bathroom that my suite provided, I felt better having them there on days when everything hurt even more than usual. “The top floor should wrap up renovations next month.”

Not feeling up too much else, I showed Rachel around to the amenities on the first floor: a short, covered walkway that connected to The Elk’s Head restaurant, how to access the indoor and outdoor pools, the gym, gift shop with hardly any merchandise inside, and a quick grab-and-go cafe I was working on with a local coffee company. As we circled back to the lobby, I snapped my attention to the opening front door. Two people strolled in: one a woman wearing slacks and a fancy blouse with heavy makeup on, and the other a casually dressed man holding a camera on his shoulder.

Great. My favorite people.

“Hi, Juniper Hart?” The woman smiled. “I’m LeAnn Weiss from—”

“With all due respect, Ms. Weiss, I don’t give a shit what channel you’re with. Get out of here. We aren’t open yet. No further comment.”

LeAnn smoothed her strawberry blonde hair and frowned. She glanced at her cameraman and then said, “Mr. Hart, I was hoping to ask you a few quick questions. We’d only be five minutes, tops.”

I pointed to the door behind her. “The exit is where you came in from. Have a nice day.”

LeAnn went to say something, but Rachel beat her to the punch. “Do you have a business card?” She stepped forward and extended a hand. “I’m the new Assistant Manager, at least for now. Rachel Friedman. My apologies, Ms. Weiss.”

“I do.” She reached into her slacks and fished out her wallet, from which she grabbed a business card. “Are you a better point of contact, Ms. Friedman?”

“We can work together moving forward,” she said. “I’ll contact you once we have a press release ready and some exciting news to share.”

“Great. Thank you, Ms. Friedman.”

“Please, call me Rachel. It was lovely meeting you!”

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