4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Juniper
I n the three weeks Rachel had been here, I didn’t think we were any closer to coexisting peacefully. We worked together well enough, though she seemed to have opinions on things I hardly knew anything about. It wasn’t a problem, but it made one thing abundantly clear.
The fact of the matter was, I had no idea what the hell I was doing.
And here I thought the renovations would be the hard part. How mistaken I was. Hiring contractors to tell me what was wrong and to repair buildings was easy enough, no matter how much my wallet disagreed. It was well-fed and would manage.
But this was the part I hadn’t given nearly enough thought to. Branding, decorating, and last-minute preparations felt like learning a new language I struggled to speak. Marketing was a challenge for me, too, and would come soon enough. When I was snowboarding, my agent suggested I slap up some photos on Instagram at least twice a week. Now I barely used the damn thing.
At least Rachel didn’t seem to mind taking charge; with how much work she was putting in, she proved herself to be a natural leader and also the best hiring decision I ever could have made. Even though she worked on the corporate backend of a hotel chain, she’d spent enough time at the actual resorts for photoshoots that she could get her arms around everything. It came so naturally to her I felt a rare twang of jealousy.
“I ran a campaign once to help HR get some new candidates,” she told me last week. “My team and I sat down and interviewed all the people who worked at the resort and followed them for a day in their life. I learned a lot from them.”
We had plans to hire housekeeping closer to the lodge opening, but for now, it was just us. Rachel had shown me some tricks she learned from housekeeping at her last job. It took everything to swallow my feelings of inadequacy. Before Rachel, I could choke it down with my medication in the mornings. But now, it was like I was staring my ineptness in the face. I knew I wasn’t actually inept and that my chronic pain had nothing to do with my worth.
I knew that. Really, I did.
But after snowboarding my entire life and everyone asking when I would come back, it was hard to not internalize some less-than-positive thoughts. The logical part of my brain that sometimes worked knew it was stupid. The therapist I’d spoken to about it tried talking me out of it, but it changed nothing, so I’d stopped going.
I was grieving a life I’d lost, and even though I didn’t miss it, I did miss the ease with which things came. I missed not being in pain every single time I woke up and every night before bed.
But there was a lot I lost that was for the best, too. Something, something, blessings in disguise. As I reflected on the last few weeks, I tried to remember that.
Despite the pins and needles shooting through my leg as I stood, I got out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen. I went through the motions of filling the tincture bottle, deciding to take extra this morning so I could get out of my head and the spiral of self-loathing. It wasn’t enough to get me high, but it would send me into a giggle fit if I found something funny enough. That feeling usually passed after a few minutes, so I wouldn’t have to worry about Rachel noticing.
As I threw my hair up and got dressed, my phone buzzed against my desk. Allison’s name flashed across the screen alongside a photo of us at our last tournament before my accident, their dyed-blue hair hidden by their snow gear. Allison Jones and I shared an agent, Rick Rodriguez, and attended snowboarding events together for years as a result. They were the closest thing to a sibling I had.
“Hey, AJ.”
“Juniper! It has been too long! How are you? How’s the lodge?”
As happy as I was to hear from them, I wasn’t up for their usual pep talks. Adjusting to handling a second human life was difficult enough as is, so all I said was, “It’s good.”
“It’s good? That’s all you have to say? Seriously?”
“I hired someone to help. She’s got a strong personality, but we’re getting used to each other, I think.”
“You did? Seriously?” To say they sounded surprised would be an understatement. “I owe Rick twenty bucks now.”
“For what?”
“I bet him you’d try to do this whole thing alone. He bet you’d eventually cave and get some help wanted listings up.”
“Smart asses, the lot of you.”
“Don’t pretend you hate us, Juniper. We know there’s love in that stone-cold heart of yours somewhere.”
I laughed as my body relaxed, the pain in my leg dissolving until the only spot that remained was a dull throb in my piriformis muscle. “I think that froze over a long time ago, AJ.”
“Wait, I know that laugh. Did you take your meds? Like, too much of them?”
“Just enough, actually.”
“I will never get over you being giggly. It’s like a living oxymoron.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Never. So what’s the new girl like? Other than a strong personality.”
“Well, you can tell she used to work in corporate. Even her tone of voice comes across as fake.”
“Is she being fake or is she being respectful? So quick to assume the worst, you are.”
“Either way, I hate it.”
“And she’s probably wondering what your damage is, so try to be nice, would you?”
I scoffed in mock offense. “I am trying, thank you very much.”
“Bullshit.”
“Oh, and I thought I was the one out here assuming the worst.”
“I know you, Juniper. One time, you told a guy to piss off because he congratulated you on a second-place win. You can’t bullshit me.”
“May I remind you I was off by one point because that one judge was all pissed because I wouldn’t date his daughter? It felt like a backhanded compliment.”
“He didn’t know that!”
“I think everyone knew that. Some teen magazine ran a whole fucking article on it.”
Allison huffed in frustration. “My point is, you’re quick to assume this girl is being fake when she’s probably just hoping to make a good first impression at a new job.”
“Can you blame me for being jaded after everything?”
“No, I don’t, but it’s not healthy to be all doom and gloom all the time either. Not everyone is out to get you, you know.”
“Well, it certainly feels like it sometimes.”
Allison ignored me. “Get off your high horse. She’s there because you’re paying her to do a job—a job you desperately need someone to do, might I add. And as much as Rick and I love you, we don’t love you that much.”
I winced. “Ouch, AJ.”
They groaned, melodramatic as always. “What are you working on with her today?”
“Decor.”
“Let her take the lead and show her you value her opinion. She’ll feel more confident if you do and will probably relax after that.”
“I don’t need to like her, you know. I just need her to do her job.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. It’s only the two of you, right? You absolutely need to like her. You’ll drive yourself up a wall otherwise.”
“Fine. Since you’re right about everything.”
“I know I am. Don’t be a dick.”
Rachel and I met at our usual spot in the lobby, right in front of the desk. We’d unintentionally matched today, both of us wearing green flannels and jeans. At least she’d started dressing more casually since arriving here; her whole first week she wore semi-business casual attire but learned quickly it wasn’t comfortable for getting hands dirty.
Maybe Allison was right; maybe Rachel was just trying to be professional and polite rather than completely fake.
“Good morning! Edgar wanted me to give this to you.” She handed me a to-go cup of coffee with one hand. She held a second cup closer to her body. “It’s half coffee, half hot chocolate. He said he was looking to try something new and wanted our opinion. I’ve had a few sips already and can confirm it won’t burn your mouth.”
I gave her a closed-lipped smile as I accepted the drink. “Thanks.” I took a sip, savoring the hazelnut notes and the rich chocolate. A hint of caramel swirled in with it, too, causing the drink to warm me from the inside out. “This is good.”
“Did you get any caramel in yours, too?”
“Yeah, it’s nice. Super rich, though.”
“Mm.” She took a sip of her own, looking akin to a cat lying in the sun. “Where do you want to start today?”
“Let’s start with some of these photographs and paintings in the hallway and lobby,” I suggested. “Then we can go from there.”
We worked in relative silence. I was never really sure what to say to her, and I think she’d reached the end of her social road, too. Over the last few weeks, Rachel had tried and failed to make small talk: telling me stories from her old job or asking me if I had any favorite restaurants around here that weren’t attached to our building.
As a former celebrity, of sorts, everyone always expected me to be more social. In truth, I’d always preferred to keep to myself. My life had been on display for so long I cherished privacy and quiet. I’d been on the slopes since before I could even remember, learning to ski and snowboard not long after learning to walk. When my mother realized I wasn’t too bad for a kid, she jumped at the chance to enroll me in competitions. And then it snowballed, rolling down that powdered hill and never stopping until I had no choice.
Rachel’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, pulling me back from memory lane and into the hallway.
“I don’t think this one goes super well. Is it cool if I move it? It’s a smidge too tall for this wall.”
As I stood by her side, looking at the vertical photograph of the Rocky Mountains we’d picked up at a local store last week, I frowned. “I think it looks fine.”
“You do? Look.” When she stepped closer to the wall, her shoulder brushed against me. Before I could even register the contact and the shot of warmth it sent down my arm, I shifted to the side. My hip cracking filled the brief silence as she held the photo up and displayed it on the wall. “See? It almost brushes against this gorgeous wainscoting that all the hallways have, so I’m thinking we swap it out for something horizontal and move this down to the lobby.” Her eyes glanced to my hip. “You okay, by the way?”
“Oh, yeah. It does that a lot. You’ll probably tune it out after a while. If anything, it feels good when it cracks.” As I remembered Allison’s advice, I shrugged a shoulder. “As far as the pictures go, do whatever you want. I don’t have a strong opinion either way.”
“I’ll make the switch, then.” Despite my permission, Rachel sounded dejected. Maybe AJ wasn’t right for once. “Anything you do have an opinion on?”
“Nope. I trust your judgment.”
Her dejection faded with a smile as she realized that our conversation was a misunderstanding. “You do?”
False alarm: AJ had been right, as initially thought at the beginning of the day.
“Yeah,” I said. “You’re the marketing pro, after all. Make this place pretty. I’ll hang shit wherever you tell me.”
“Looks like my middle school addiction to The Sims paid off.”
“Shall I play the soundtrack on my phone or something?”
She nearly snorted as she laughed. “That’s hardly necessary. It’s going to be stuck in my head now, though.”
“Can you bring me the nails?” I asked. “I need a bigger one over here.”
She nodded, bringing the plastic storage box with her. When our fingers grazed against one another, before I could withdraw, an inexplicable heat shot through my chest, not unlike whenever Sasquatch lay on top of me and put all of his weight into those massive paws of his. My heart raced, unsure of what I was feeling or why I was feeling it. Perhaps it was from years of loneliness and self-isolation having only Allison and Rick to talk to from time to time, Edgar from the restaurant when necessary, and… well, no one else.
No one. Not even my family.
It was better that way. At least it had been. But now, as my body betrayed me, I couldn’t help but wonder. Sasquatch looked up at me from his spot, ever my shadow, then trotted off. I already knew where he was going. Part of me wanted to tell him to stay, but the dog had better judgement than I did. I wasn’t going to stop him.
Not ready or willing to unpack those feelings, I tried to brush them off by grabbing the next picture to hang. When I lifted a larger portrait in a particularly heavy frame, my back tweaked just enough to trigger my sciatic nerve pain. I mumbled a curse as the muscles in my right glute tensed, feeling like someone wrung out a wet towel but never released it.
Rachel looked back at me as she hung up a painting of some elk. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Flare up. It’ll pass.”
Returning with my medication bottle in his mouth, Sasquatch betrayed my words. Rachel glanced from the Newfie then back to me. “You sure?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fine.” Since I’d taken a larger dose of my medication this morning, I knew it would go away again within a few minutes. I took the bottle from Sasquatch, though, and took another for good measure. “By the way, when I say meds, it’s, uh, just weed. I hate smoking, so I use an oil. I’m glad it works as well as it does. I know others can’t say the same.”
“Oh! You know, being in Colorado, you’d think I’d have thought of that sooner. Good to know.”
“It was either marijuana or prescription painkillers for the rest of my life. And I hold no love for our healthcare system, so, you know. The less I have to fight with my insurance about if I actually need pain relief or not, the happier I am.”
“Can’t say I blame you. Let me know if I can help, alright?”
“Despite how it looks, I am self-sufficient but thank you.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked, then.”
We continued to decorate in awkward silence. I fought through my pain out of spite, not wanting to feel any less capable than I already did. My physical therapist warned me that people may look at me differently, especially considering my past career. Now, I didn’t want anyone to look at me at all.
After a few minutes—I wasn’t sure if it was three or thirty—Rachel broke the silence. “Hey, um, I didn’t mean to imply anything. Sorry if it came out wrong. I tend to be the ‘mom friend’ type, you know?”
As I hung the last photograph, I paused. “It’s fine. I appreciate you saying that.”
“But you don’t have to do everything alone anymore.”
She was right, though I’d never admit it. After four years, I’d gotten used to doing everything by myself, save for Sasquatch’s help.
“And besides, Mia Farrow won’t be showing up to call for help,” Rachel said. “So you can lean on me, that’s all.”
My brows furrowed. “Mia Farrow? Like the actress? Why would she call for help?”
“Oh, it’s a movie reference. Have you ever seen Avalanche ? It’s from the 70s.”
I shook my head as we made our way to the elevator to head back downstairs. “I’m not exactly caught up on old movies.”
“Okay, if we’re going to do this whole ski lodge renovation thing together, then I’m forcing you to watch it with me. Besides, I think they filmed it somewhere in Colorado. Who knows, maybe you’ll be familiar with the set?”
“What’s it about? Never mind, that was a dumb question. Let me guess, an avalanche taking over a ski lodge.”
“Yeah, but it’s, like, pretty bad. The movie, that is. Well, the avalanche is pretty bad too, but you probably could have guessed that.”
“Why would I want to watch a crappy movie? Sounds like a waste of time.”
One of her thick brows rose as she spoke matter-of-factly. “You will sing a different tune after watching a crappy movie with me. Plus, Mystery Science Theater riffed on it, so there’s funny commentary.”
My knee-jerk reaction was to say no, but the way I saw it, I had two options: I could either reject Rachel’s offer of a movie night and set the tone she and I would have a strictly professional relationship, or I could accept. While it should stay professional, we also would be spending a lot of time together for the next few months at least, potentially years. Other than Edgar, we were alone here, and as AJ said, we’d need to actually like each other in order to have a successful working relationship.
I looked at Sasquatch who was nudging Rachel’s hip in the elevator. Even though I didn’t put his vest on today, I brought him along to fetch a few things; he was never truly off, but I didn’t want him to feel overworked, either. Rachel looked at me as Sasquatch nudged her again. Once I gave her an approving nod, she scratched between his ears. Sasquatch’s long tongue fell out as he smiled wide, the sound of his happy pants filling the elevator.
I really need some friends who can actually talk back; AJ sassing me didn’t count.
So, I said, “Alright. Fuck it. But know I’m only doing this to boost employee morale and because Sasquatch likes you.”
“Jokes on you,” she said, matching my energy. The shift in her tone caught my attention, the sarcasm giving me gooseflesh. “I’m only inviting you for your dog.”
I allowed myself to chuckle. Maybe a movie night wouldn’t be too terrible after all.