Holiday Magic (Second Chance) (9 page)

Mark stopped the van near the back door of the chalet, a Swiss-styled A-frame facing the woods and the mountains. Even the back of the cedar building was attractive and fit nicely into the stunning mountain scenery surrounding it.

“Wait here. I’ll unlock the door. After we empty the van, I’ll see if I can put it in the garage.” He indicated the smaller building to the left of the chalet.

He tied his jacket and pulled on a wool cap and gloves. When he opened the van door, the wind blew inside, causing what little heat there was to vanish. She grabbed her coat and followed him, eager to get inside.

Mark opened the door, but it was as cold inside as it was outside. When he flipped the switch, the light didn’t come on. He saw a note on the counter in the mudroom they had entered. There was enough light coming in from the door and the window beside it to allow him to read the message.

Dear Mr. Anderson,

Mrs. Ingram said you would be up on Friday. The generator is all gassed up and ready for you to start. It’s in the garage. The stove and fridge are gas powered as is the hot water tank. Instructions for turning the tank up are next door in the utility room. The fridge and stove are on, but the well runs off the generator. There’s no phone, but I’m guessing you’ll have a cell. If you need anything, call me at 445-8795. The woodstove heats up quickly. Three good logs should see you through the night if you have to stay. Call me when you leave, and I’ll come down and close up. There’s more wood under the front deck. If that runs out, there’s some in the garage. The fridge is stocked with food, and Mrs. I. said to help yourselves to whatever you like.

Charlie.

“Well, let’s get this inside, so you can get that generator started, and we don’t freeze to death.”

Chapter Nine

The ground level of the chalet consisted of a large entrance area from which a door led to the utility room that housed the water tank, a washer and dryer, a selection of ski equipment and other outdoor gear, a variety of tools and an eight-foot step ladder. Next to the flight of stairs that led to the first floor was the door leading out to the ground level patio under the deck. Mark unlocked it and saw that it opened into a semi-enclosed storage area that had been filled with wood. He quickly closed and locked the door to shut out the cold.

They worked side by side to empty the van, leaving everything in the mud room for the time being. Georgia grabbed the bags of groceries, climbed the stairs to the main floor, and opened the door. Mark followed with the sleeping bags, blankets, and pillows, and then went out to park the van and start the generator. Georgia carried the two bags of groceries over to the kitchen counter and turned around to admire the décor.

The chalet was rustic, but the simplicity of it appealed to her artistic nature. On the main floor, there was a kitchen separated from the dining-living room by a breakfast bar. Floor to ceiling windows on either side of the fieldstone fireplace faced the mountain, although with the heavy snow, all that could be seen was a swirling white wall. The fireplace’s firebox had been made more efficient with the insertion of a woodstove and blower, and would no doubt provide enough heat to warm the small house nicely. A forty inch, flat screen television, with a built-in Blu-ray player, was attached to the stone above the firebox. There was a large selection of Blu-ray disks and DVDs on a bookshelf under the loft balcony. She had noticed a dish on the roof, but in this weather, reception was doubtful. There was a modern washroom with a shower and tub next to the kitchen.

The back half of the chalet held the loft. The staircase from down below continued up to a balcony, which overlooked the windows and fireplace below. The loft was divided into three rooms, two bedrooms with a bathroom between them. The bedrooms, one with a queen-size bed and the other with a smaller double bed were open to the balcony allowing the heat from below to warm them. A large ceiling fan hung from the pointed ceiling, and could be used to draw the warm air upstairs.

Georgia carried her case and the sleeping bags upstairs, dropping one on the double bed in one room and taking the other and her case into the other room. She was glad she had thought to bring her slippers to wear, since the floors were ice-cold, and because of the snow, she had left her boots in the mudroom. She went back downstairs for the pillows and blankets Mark had thrown in, as well as the duffel bag he’d packed for himself. She put two blankets and a pillow in each room, and took the duffel bag into the room she’d assigned to Mark. It was cold in the loft, but she was certain it would be warmer by the time they went to bed; at least, she hoped it would be.

She walked over to the fieldstone fireplace and was glad to see the large wood box beside it was full of logs. She opened the glass-fronted woodstove doors, and saw that a fire had been readied. She checked to make sure the damper was open, and using one of the long matches in the container on the mantel, she lit the paper and was pleased when the wood caught instantly.

The fire began to warm the room immediately. She imagined snuggling with Mark on the butter-soft leather sofa and gave her head a shake.
Don’t go there,
she ordered herself, but she had to admit that the chalet was romantic and would have been the ideal place for a honeymoon.

Mark came up the stairs. “I’ve put the tree on the front deck. We can bring it in through the sliding doors as soon as you decide where you want it. Once it’s in the tree stand, we can give it time to thaw before we add the decorations.”

He walked over to the tap and turned it on. It made a few strange gurgling sounds and sputtered before the water poured out of it.

“
I turned up the hot water tank. There were other instructions nailed to the wall in the garage,” he said, removing his coat and gloves. “Charlie mentioned that we probably shouldn’t drink the water unless we boil it. There is bottled water in the fridge for that. I shoveled a path from the garage back to the house, but it’ll probably be gone in no time if the snow keeps coming down the way it is.

He walked over to the fireplace and flipped the switch to activate the blower that forced the warm air into the room. He carried his coat downstairs before coming back up with the last of the boxes of decorations.

“I know everyone is into gas or electric heating, but there is a lot to be said for a nice fire in a woodstove on a cold day. Thanks for lighting it. It should be warm in here in no time. Now, I think I brought everything up. As soon as it’s warm enough, we can make lunch. I’m sure you’d like another cup of tea.”

While Mark made coffee, she grilled ham and cheese sandwiches and warmed up a can of tomato soup. She seemed to remember that this was his favorite lunch on a cold day. They ate at the counter and made small talk, joking about insignificant things they remembered from past winters and storms, and the sense of camaraderie was strong.

They decided to place the tree in the far corner opposite the staircase. It would be visible from the kitchen and dining room, as well as from the seating area in front of the fireplace. It would not obstruct the view and light from the windows, and it would illuminate the entire main room without being in the way. While it might have looked good near the woodstove, a careless spark could spell disaster.

They worked side by side the rest of the afternoon, decorating the chalet to match the sketches Georgia had drawn for Mrs. Ingram. Every time they accidentally touched, she felt goose bumps form on her skin. Despite the presence of the fresh pine tree, the only thing she could smell was Mark’s aftershave that tantalized and teased her. By late afternoon, she was so tense she thought she might burst like an over-filled balloon.

As dusk settled, all of the artificial greenery, with its embedded mini lights, and the red bows that they had brought with them, had been put up along the stair and balcony railings. Two nutcrackers dressed in cherry-red uniforms stood on each side of the television screen, separated by the Christmas mice holding the three brightly colored family stockings awaiting their treasures. The dining room table boasted a green and red check tablecloth and in its center, three red pillar candles surrounded by artificial pine twigs and pinecones waited to be lit. The nativity scene, a family treasure the client had provided, sat on the small table, and would go under the tree once it was decorated. The tree itself had been secured in its stand, and after affixing the star to its tip, Mark was busily putting on the three hundred mini lights they had brought with them.

Georgia set the timer and plugged in the greenery. Hundreds of tiny white lights instantly turned the darkening room into a festive place. The timer would come on at 4:30 and go off at midnight. They would unplug it when they left to conserve energy, and the Ingram’s could plug it in again when they arrived.

Georgia had started the spaghetti sauce right after lunch using a variety of spices she had found in the cupboards. The tantalizing smell of the meat sauce permeated the air. It had been a long time since she had cooked for someone other than herself, and she was enjoying it. Mark had been out to check the generator and was impressed by its fuel efficiency. He had refilled the wood box near the woodstove too, to ensure there would be enough logs to see them through the night.

Although it was dark, floodlights on the veranda showed that the snow continued to fall heavily. It was well over a foot deep, and since the wind had come up, there would be much deeper drifts. They would need to be plowed out before they could leave. Mark had called Charlie who had assured him that he would be there to plow the laneway as soon as the county plowed the road. The good news was that the snow was expected to let up by noon tomorrow. The bad news was that tomorrow was Saturday, and they might not be plowed out until Monday. Theirs wasn’t an essential road.

“I think that’s the last string.”  Mark flipped the switch to make sure the lights worked.

“
It looks nice even without any other decorations. You spaced the lights well,” said Georgia, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Imagine how nice it’ll look finished.”

“
I seem to remember you saying that a Christmas tree could never have too many decorations.” He chuckled. “You must have purchased at least a hundred of those hand-blown glass ornaments.”

“
Whatever happened to them?” Georgia asked. Perhaps she could discover the fate of her quilt as well.

“
There still in the storage area where you left them,” Mark answered his face serious, as if the memory wounded him. “Everything is exactly the way you left it.” He turned suddenly and walked to the lower level door.

“
I need something from the van.” His voice was gruff.

Georgia stared at his back, too surprised to say anything.
She sat on the sofa flummoxed. Her tear-filled eyes stared into the whiteness outside. He hadn’t sold the loft or any of the things they had purchased. How strange to think of him living there all this time. Sorrow, like a hot, searing knife, cut through her. Eleni had said he hadn’t dated, but she found that hard to believe. He couldn’t possibly spend all of his time alone. It wasn’t in his make-up. He was an extrovert, a people person, while she was an introvert. What was it they said about opposites? It was that aspect of his personality that made him such an asset to Holiday Magic.

After their break-up, there was no way she would have been able to stay there. The memories would have been too painful. She felt the tears spill from her eyes at the thought that he hadn’t felt the same way. She had planned to talk about what Lucy had told her tonight at dinner, but maybe it wasn’t worth the effort. Maybe he just wouldn’t care. It was better not to take the chance on getting rejected. Bringing it up would only open wounds that had festered for years, and if they were stuck here for a couple of days, it was better to be stuck and at least be speaking to one another.

She grabbed a tissue, wiped her eyes and blew her nose, hoping she hadn’t caught cold. She reached for the boxes containing the silver and gold balls and the red bows Mrs. Ingram had chosen, and began to decorate the tree.

A loud crack startled her, and she went to the window to look out. She had not recognized the noise, but nothing seemed to be amiss. Maybe there had been an avalanche in the mountains. She went to the window facing out the back of the chalet, but couldn’t see anything there either. She hung two more balls and stopped, admitting to herself that she was worried.

She looked at her watch. He had been gone half an hour – what could possibly be keeping him that long? She knew he hadn’t left. Not only had she not heard the van start, but he couldn’t get out even if he wanted to do so. After another ten minutes, she set aside the box of balls and went downstairs. Maybe something had happened in the garage, there had to be something wrong, otherwise he would be back by now.

She dressed herself as warmly as she could and grabbed a flashlight from the cupboard by the door, checked to see that the batteries worked, and headed out towards the garage. The wind blew heavily from the north, and the path that Mark had dug was barely visible. She had only gone a few yards when she saw the mound and the broken tree in the snow.

Panic filled her. She’d been in Central Park the day the heavy, snow-laden branches had come crashing to the ground. The police, using megaphones, had instructed everyone to leave the park. She and many others had run along the snowy paths, as branches came down nearby. The next morning, yellow crime tape had closed off the section of the park where the elm branch had crashed almost eighty feet to the ground killing a man instantly. No! This couldn’t be happening, not now, not when there might be a chance that they could be together again.

She hurried towards him. He was prone on the ground. A large branch from the birch tree had broken and half covered him. It took all of her strength to heave it partially off of his motionless body. He was lying on his side, coat unbuttoned, and although he wore gloves, he had no hat or scarf. How long had he lain there helpless?

My God! Was he still alive? What would she do if he wasn’t?

She rushed over to his side, bent down, and flashed the light over him. His head was bleeding, and the blood trickled down the side of his face, into his shirt, and onto the snow beside him. She felt for the lump and found a large goose egg, on the side of his head, just a little bit back from the temple.

Terrified, she remembered it was possible for a person to die from a blow to the temple, especially if the blow had been caused by something sharp that had penetrated the skin and bone, or if struck with something flat or blunt, like the tree branch, that might cause a brain hemorrhage, or possibly even crush the skull forcing shards of bone into the brain. She probed the lump, eliciting a groan from him. Thank the Lord, he was alive! Tears ran down her cheeks.

“
Mark? Mark, can you hear me? You have to wake up. You’ll freeze to death out here.” She shook him. “Please, you have to wake up. I can’t get you inside alone. Please, Mark, please, wake up.” Her crying choked her voice, and she worried that he could not hear her over the howling wind and her sobs. She bent down and pressed her lips against his cold ones.