Page 15 of Stay this Christmas
“And you enjoyed yourself there?”
I had to smile just thinking about my time in Colorado. Two years working for Vaughn Mountain Views, moving up from a virtually unpaid gofer to a full-time assistant tour guide. The Vaughn brothers had taken me in, shown me the literal ropes, and shared what they knew about the adventure tour industry and mountain guiding. Those months exploring the Rockies were unmatched in my travels. Unmatched in mylife.
“You know I did.” I couldn’t count the times I’d called her needing to share my exhilaration over my most recent achievement. The heights, the views, the pure adrenaline—she’d listened to me rave about it all.
“But you left to come here.”
My adrenaline-fueled nostalgia slipped away as regret wrapped tight around those memories. Not for leaving, exactly, but I couldn’t deny missing what I’d left behind. I’d created a stability there I’d never had anywhere else. My work life and even my home life had settled into a routine almost, somethingnormal. If it hadn’t been for Ian Vaughn’s accident, I might have gone on working there indefinitely. I would have tried for my mountain guide certification and moved up to lead runs. But after I saw what he went through, I’d come back to Magnolia Ridge looking for a different sort of stability altogether. One I’d never built before, and wasn’t sure yet could truly last if I tried.
I wanted a home. A place I belonged. Partnership. Family.
Just a small ask.
I’d always thought those things would come along in their own time, something for my thirties, maybe. But seeing Ian wiped out after one accident, I realized I couldn’t count on somedays and maybes. I only had right now.
“All I’m saying is, just because Durango didn’t last forever, doesn’t mean it was all a scam, right?”
I let my thoughts about Colorado go. Looking back wondering if I’d made the right decision wasn’t me. Forward was the only direction you could ever go, anyway.
“This is a terrible analogy.”
She made a face. “Yeah, I hear it. Still. My point stands that something being temporary doesn’t automatically make it bad. You of all people should know that.”
No, temporary wasn’t bad. I’d lived the proof out several times, just as she’d said. But I’d come home to try to build something permanent. And if I wanted to do that, I knew where I had to start.
Time to stop being a chicken.
FIVE
harper
I walkeddown Center Street shivering slightly in the evening breeze as Eliza ranted beside me.
“This is a baby step,” she said. “We should be mixing it up with all the sweaty MMA guys, not takinggentle yogalike a couple of old ladies. No offense to your old ladies at Siesta Village.”
Her ongoing joke about Fiesta Village’s name barely elicited an eye roll now.
After movies last night, Eliza had pushed me to start my New-Me list as soon as possible. Even Eden and June had agreed I should take action rather than marinate any longer in my stagnation stew. I’d eventually agreed, but yes, I’d chosen a baby step. I wasn’t Eliza—I couldn’t just leap right in and mix it up with the MMA guys on Day One.
“I never said you had to come.”
“It was implied,” she said.
We walked through Lotus Flower’s doors, and she shot me a dirty look. Her old lady assessment had been pretty spot-on. Most of the people in the lobby putting their shoes and purses in the cubbies were women a couple of decades older than us. They could have been our mom and her girl gang out for an evening of yoga and wine.
So. I probably wouldn’t make my under-sixty friend here, then.
We filled out the free trial paperwork with the receptionist at the front desk, Eliza scolding me under her breath the whole time.
“It’s because you chose thegentleoption. I bethard yogawould have a totally different demographic.”
“Easing in is smarter than going straight for the advanced classes,” I whispered back.
I’d seen more than enough clients with pulled muscles from diving right into activities they were unprepared for, so no way would I risk doing the same thing. I liked my joints, thank you very much.
I stopped cold. Wait—had I just complained about my joints like my eighty-year-old clients? One more indication this New-Me list was the right choice. Although, maybe thegentlepart hadn’t been. Really, I should do the kickboxing class next, just to remind myself that although my patients were geriatric,Iwasn’t.
We trailed the other women into one of the studio rooms, where more students were laying out mats and gathering up straps and blocks. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing already, and I followed along, trying not to look like a total novice. Waiting my turn to pick a strap from a bin, Eliza nudged me hard in the ribs.
