Chapter Four
I woke before six to the kind of quiet that only came after heavy snow.
No tires moved on Upper Ridge. No wind pushed at the windows.
Even the pines beyond Caprice’s bedroom had gone still beneath the white reflected light coming through the glass.
Somewhere lower on the property, a generator carried its steady hum through the morning, which told me the important part before I ever reached for my phone.
The resort still had power.
Caprice slept beside me, turned toward the warm place I’d occupied most of the night. Her phone sat dark on the nightstand. Outside the bedroom, Bear’s slow breathing came from the rug where he’d settled after I’d checked the fire and locked up.
I wanted to stay exactly where I was.
That didn’t make the road safer or the upper properties check themselves.
I eased out of bed without waking Caprice and picked up my phone. The overnight updates were what I expected. The lodge was staffed, utilities were normal, and the upper internal road remained closed to nonessential traffic while crews assessed the accumulation.
Good. No emergency.
Just a lot of snow and work that still belonged to me.
I pulled on last night’s jeans and henley and left Caprice sleeping while I crossed to the kitchen. The closed laptop remained on the dining table. Dinner dishes still waited where we’d abandoned them.
And the chocolate cake sat on the counter, its crooked layer of vanilla buttercream looking exactly as it had before dessert had taken a sharp turn away from eating.
I smiled, moved the cake into the refrigerator, then headed for the entry.
My winter coat, gloves, and knit cap were in the truck. Bear’s breakfast, clean work clothes, and everything I needed to make Caprice a proper brunch were at my house.
I stepped outside long enough to pull on the coat, gloves, and cap, then came back for Bear. The truck could stay where it was until I knew more about the road.
Bear and I could walk.
The snow reached nearly to the tops of my boots where it had drifted beside the porch, though it was lighter under the trees. I clipped Bear’s leash on before opening the door. He stood beside me with his whole body wound tight enough to launch.
“You get one chance to remember you’re attached to me.”
Bear looked up.
Then he hit the snow at full speed.
Apparently that had been the chance.
I caught the leash before he reached the end of it and followed him down the steps, powder pushing over my boots.
Upper Ridge looked nothing like it had the day before. Dark asphalt, brown needles, frost, and bare ground had disappeared beneath white. Snow covered the road deeply enough that only the reflector posts and the shallow dip between the trees showed where it ran.
Bear shoved his entire face into the first drift he reached.
He came up snorting, his muzzle white.
“I’m glad one of us is approaching this professionally.”
His tail sent powder across my jeans.
We took the shorter wooded route toward my house instead of following the internal road. I used the path often enough to know where the ground dropped and where roots crossed beneath the needles, but new snow covered everything, so I slowed down anyway.
Bear ranged ahead as far as his leash allowed, stopping every few feet to investigate whatever had happened under the snow overnight.
My house appeared through the trees a few minutes later, the roof piled white and a thin ribbon of woodsmoke rising from the chimney.
I checked the outside before going in. No branches against the roof. No drift blocking the vent. No ice building where it shouldn’t.
Inside, the stove still held enough heat to take the edge off the cold.
Bear headed straight for his food bowl while I added a log, filled his bowl, and stripped off the damp jeans I’d walked over in. My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter with another property update.
I read it while changing into dry canvas pants, a thermal shirt, wool socks, and heavier winter layers.
The lower road crew had started clearing uphill from the lodge. One of the grounds guys had the generator bank. Another was handling a branch fall near the lower guest loop.
Everybody was doing the work they already knew how to do.
I answered the two questions that actually needed me, confirmed which upper rentals I’d personally inspect, and told the crew to keep guest traffic off Upper Ridge until we’d checked both the grade and the shaded curve.
Then I opened the refrigerator.
Eggs. Sausage. Butter. A container of berries I’d frozen toward the end of summer.
The pantry gave me flour, baking powder, maple syrup, and coffee. I loaded everything into a canvas grocery bag, then looked at the loaf of bread on the counter.
For one second I considered bringing it as backup.
I put it back.
Caprice was getting to me.
Before I headed outside again, I sent her a message.
LUCKY: I didn’t want to wake you. Bear and I went home for breakfast, clothes, and property checks. I’ll be back late morning with food.
Her answer came while I was lacing my boots.
CAPRICE: Good morning. I found the cake in the refrigerator. I assume this was authorized intervention.
I smiled.
LUCKY: It was unattended.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
CAPRICE: That defense sounds disturbingly familiar.
I laughed and slid my phone into my coat.
Bear was licking the empty bowl.
“You’re a bad influence.”
He sneezed and walked away.
I left him home while I handled the first part of my rounds.
Fresh snow made ordinary work slower, but nothing I found qualified as trouble.
I checked the upper generator connections, walked the sheltered sides of several rentals, cleared powder away from one vent, and radioed down for a road update.
The crew had opened one staff lane on the lower grade. The shaded curve still needed treatment.
Exactly what I expected.
I wanted boring. Boring meant heat stayed on, pipes stayed intact, guests stayed comfortable, and nobody discovered an emergency we should’ve prevented yesterday.
By nine-thirty, the flat morning gray had brightened. Breaks opened in the cloud cover above the ridge, and snow reflected so much light that I had to squint when I stepped away from the trees.
One of the grounds crew met me near the service turnout with a duffel Guest Services had sent up with the regular storm-check load. I’d given them Caprice’s height and the shoe size she’d texted when I asked.
The bag held waterproof boots, insulated snow pants with adjustable tabs, a fitted coat, gloves, and traction cleats.
I checked every label before slinging the bag over my shoulder.
Five feet and six-four produced very different ideas about what counted as adjustable.
The upper road was my last stop.
A plow had opened enough space for staff vehicles, but the snow underneath had packed hard in places, and the shaded bend still held a slick layer I wouldn’t put a guest on.
I keyed the radio.
“Keep Upper Ridge closed to guest traffic.”
“That was already the plan.”
I recognized the dry voice through the static.
“Good plan.”
“Almost like we’ve done winter before.”
I smiled and clipped the radio back to my coat.
That was why I liked my crew.
After one quick stop at my place to collect Bear and the grocery bag, I headed toward Caprice’s rental with Bear on leash, the groceries riding against one hip and the gear duffel against the other. Carrying both through snow wasn’t convenient.
It was safer than taking the truck up before the road was ready.
The front door opened before I reached the porch.
Caprice stood there in soft black knit pants and a cream sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders. Small gold hoops still framed her face, and she looked rested enough to make me want to forget brunch and take her straight back to bed.
Her attention dropped to the bags.
“You brought luggage.”
“Winter gear. And groceries for brunch.”
She looked from the bags to me.
“You’re aware the resort has already fed me repeatedly, and last night you made pasta from scratch.”
“I am.”
“This feels like a campaign.”
I stepped onto the porch. “For what?”
“That remains under investigation.”
She moved aside. Bear trotted into the great room while I followed with the bags.
Before I could set either bag down, Caprice caught the front of my coat and kissed me.
No hesitation. No careful approach.
Just her mouth against mine and one hand curled into the fabric below my collar.
I put both bags safely on the floor before wrapping an arm around her.
When she eased back, her lips were still close to mine.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
She kissed me once more.
“That wasn’t payment for brunch.”
“Good. I’d hate to think I undercharged.”
Her smile came easy.
The laptop sat closed on the dining table.
I noticed, though I had no intention of keeping score.
Caprice followed my glance anyway.
“I checked the weather on my phone. I answered one message from my brother because apparently snow is an acceptable reason for him to send me seven photographs of sunshine. I currently resent him.”
“You don’t have to report your screen time to me.”
“I know.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind one ear. “I wanted to tell you.”
“Okay.”
That seemed to be all she needed from me.
The kitchen looked better than it had at six. Last night’s dishes had been gathered beside the sink instead of spread across the island, but they remained unwashed.
When I opened the refrigerator, the covered container of leftover pasta sat beside the cake.
Caprice leaned against the island.
“I handled the food. The dishes and I are currently at an impasse.”
“You got the important part.”
“That was my assessment.”
“I agree.”
She smiled.
I pulled the waffle iron from one of the lower cabinets.
Caprice stared at it.
“You knew that was in there.”
“I manage the rentals.”
“I’ve been in this kitchen for two days and had no idea there was a waffle iron in that cabinet.”
“You weren’t looking for one.”
“That’s a dangerously rational explanation.”
“You want waffles?”
“I want the complete proposal before I authorize breakfast.”