Chapter 2 Nicole
Nicole Kessler trudged up the path from the street-facing parking lot to reach the ski shed the morning after Thanksgiving, her boots sinking into snowdrifts as she forged her way to work.
Almost there, she took a moment to notice the Utah mountain skies were heartbreakingly blue around the ridgeline, freshly washed from the storm. That sight would bring joy to all the avid skiers about to descend on Park City for the start of the season.
Nicole could speak their language, and she would, all day today, when skiers came into the Snowberry Lodge Adventure Shack—AKA the ski shed—to buy and rent everything they’d need to hit the slopes.
But speaking their language didn’t make her one of them. Yes, she catered to ski lovers all winter long, who chatted endlessly about the conditions, the runs, the lines, the crowded slopes, the cost of lift tickets. But she hadn’t put on a pair of boots and bindings for…what?
Nineteen years.
Well, eighteen years and ten months, to be precise. January would be the nineteenth anniversary of her accident, and she still couldn’t imagine what it would take to get her on the slopes again.
She kept her history well hidden from her customers, and with what was going on at the lodge?
The worry in her mother’s eyes and the agony in Aunt MJ’s?
She’d faked the ski love with every person on the property because Nicole’s little piece of the Snowberry pie was helping to keep this place afloat.
Digging into her bag for the keys, she studied the building, which wasn’t actually a shed at all.
Situated about fifty yards across a wide drive from the main lodge, the shop was a converted barn painted bright red with a dark green tin roof and a massive display window.
Behind the glass was an ever-changing array of ski apparel, boots, helmets, and gleaming skis and poles.
A sign for the shed at the street entrance to Snowberry Lodge invited locals and tourists to buy and rent anything they’d need for the slopes in the winter, plus bikes and hiking gear in the summer. Here, they’d pay much less than they would at the resorts or even in town.
Off to the right, a carport housed the lodge’s shuttle van and a muddy UTV that Nicole loved to take through the trails in the warmer weather. The van was gone now since Brianna Larsson, her roommate, co-worker, and bestie, was at the airport picking up some new arrivals.
Unlocking the oversized front door, she walked into her spacious, high-ceilinged shop, its open floor ringed by a railed loft where all the skis stood like colorful soldiers.
On the main floor, racks of apparel, shelves of accessories, and displays of gear filled the warm, well-lit space.
With undeniable pride, Nicole scanned the store and her merchandise, satisfied that everything was arranged to catch the sun that poured through the high windows around the second-floor loft.
Nicole might hate skiing—with a passion—but adored her little retail paradise. Since she’d turned fifteen, she’d worked at the ski shed, helping Grandpa Red run this end of Snowberry’s business.
All the way through high school and four years at the University of Utah, Nicole worked here every holiday and summer, slowly but surely putting her touch on the place.
As a business major with a minor in retail management, taking over the ski shed had been a natural move, and Grandpa Red had been more than happy to retire at seventy-five.
For the past seven years, Nicole had expanded the merchandise, improved the displays, and launched some successful ad campaigns.
She also hired Brianna, her closest friend from college and an avid skier, to help with lessons when she started that business. Brianna had brought a new energy and excitement, and had taken over running the shuttle service, too.
She loved this job so much that she couldn’t bear to think about the kitchen conversation last night. Sell Snowberry? She groaned at the very idea, vowing to somehow slay her own sales numbers and be able to help with that tax bill.
But first…Copper. With an hour before opening the shop’s doors, she grabbed her jacket again and headed outside to the stable, a minute’s walk from the shed.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, the warm scent of hay and horse wrapped around her, a sharp contrast to the crisp morning air still clinging to her cheeks. Inside, Copper nickered low from his stall, already shifting his weight in anticipation.
“There’s my boy,” she murmured, crossing the straw-covered floor. He stuck his head over the stall door, his reddish coat dusted with bits of hay, nostrils flaring to greet her.
She ran a hand down the white streak on his long, warm face, getting a push of love when she reached into her pocket for the peppermint he fully expected her to have.
Mom and Dad had given this horse to Nicole for her high school graduation, after Whistler had gone to the great stables in the sky.
She always thought Copper was some kind of consolation prize for her parents’ divorce, which happened later that same year during her freshman fall semester at the University of Utah.
Maybe they’d hoped to ease her pain with this beautiful beast.
Of course, Snowberry Lodge always had a horse or two, and they always had someone on staff who acted as a stable manager when Nicole was at school or work. But there were few things she treasured more than being able to get over here early to feed, brush, exercise, and warm her big boy.
He was fourteen now, a beautiful Belgian Draft horse with a sturdy build and feathered legs. A gentle giant except for when he got spooked, Copper sported a reddish-chestnut coat and a light flaxen mane. His striking winter look was perfectly photogenic for the sleigh he was purchased to pull.
Except he hated getting hitched to the darn thing as much as Nicole hated sliding into a pair of skis. So, she’d get him outside for exercise before she got that sleigh out of storage.
She did all the stable chores first, then took him out to the paddock after refilling his water and tossing a few flakes of hay into his feeder.
While he wandered around and got some air, she went back inside to a massive tack and storage area, throwing off the big blanket that covered the sleigh nestled in a corner.
Letting out a low whistle, she took a good look at the iconic piece of Snowberry history.
Good heavens, it was beautiful. A classic open carriage, it had a deep cherry red body with two rows of black leather seating for as many as six people.
The front was open, adding a true measure of glory for the driver, while the spacious back seat was tucked low and flanked by lanterns and warmed with red blankets.
Oh, yes, this had marketing potential, even at a standstill.
She could pile the front seat high with some fake Christmas presents, string lights all over it, and let the kids ring the sleigh bells.
That would help draw customers, if only for the social media-worthy Christmas photos.
She wandered around the beast, trying to figure out how to pull it out, climbing over some saddles, piles of harnesses, and a wooden ramp she remembered that Grandpa Red made for a handicapped guest who used to visit every year and liked to sit on Whistler.
Grabbing hold of the sleigh, she managed to push it toward the doors, stopping as she got to the entrance to gather up her strength.
“Nicole!” Benny came darting down the hill from the house where he lived with Gracie and Grandpa, his down jacket wide open, his hat about to fly off his never-combed hair. “Are you going on a sleigh ride? Can I come? Please?”
“Hey, little cuz,” she called, waving him over. “No ride, but I need your muscles.”
“I don’t have muscles,” he said as he trudged through the snow. “And I’m technically your first cousin once removed. Although I don’t know what it’s removed from.”
She snorted a laugh at the family genius, loving her cousin’s son like a baby brother, no matter the technicalities of their bloodline. “You have enough muscles for this. I just need a little push onto the driveway. Once we’re there, it’ll slide easily enough.”
“What’s it for?”
“Decoration.”
“Why?” he asked, bracing himself next to her. Always, always asking why, this kid.
“To attract customers. Push.”
“So, we don’t have to…move?” he grunted on the last word.
She froze, looking down at his childish features and the frosted glasses he’d worn since he was three. “What?”
“I heard Aunt Cindy and Grandma MJ talking last night. Aunt Cindy wants to move.”
“No, she doesn’t, and you shouldn’t worry about stuff like that, kiddo. Adults will handle it.”
“But Grandma MJ said we should put our thinking caps on.” He touched the green knit beanie on his head. “Great-grandpa Red says I’m a human thinking cap. I can help.”
She wanted to laugh, but her heart tightened at the thought of this little sweetie worrying about things like that. “Yes, you probably can. But I want you to promise me something.”
He gave the sleigh a decent shove. “What?”’
“All you are going to think about from now until Christmas is…well, Christmas. You know, presents and decorations and carols and presents and…did I mention presents?”
He gave her that “wise beyond his years” expression he wore so well. “Christmas isn’t just about presents,” he said, so serious she had to bite her lip to keep from chuckling. “I want to help with…the not moving thing.”
“Oh, Benny.” She took her hands off the sleigh to hug him. “You’re so awesome. And you know how you can help? Decorate this sleigh for me. Just get some empty boxes and wrap them in Christmas paper and then find a few sets of extra lights and drape them all over. Could you do that?”
“Of course!” he exclaimed. “It’s like I have a mission!”
“Operation Sleigh Bells,” she teased.