Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Somewhere in New York State, USA
“Sugar!” The silly non-swear word her mother had often used popped out of Deanna’s mouth as she drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel.
The radio news alert interrupted a classic pop hit: Belinda Carlisle asking someone to leave a light on.
“Time for the weather update,” the radio host announced in an annoyingly chipper voice.
“It’s going to be a cold one, and the snow is coming in fast around Lake Placid.
An arctic blast is predicted with snowfall of up to six inches.
If you have time to stop at the market, be sure to stock up on groceries and water in case of power outages. More updates at five.”
“That sucks.” Deanna stared straight ahead as traffic got moving, and snow started falling right on schedule. The fluttery white snowflakes were pretty, but a little concerning. She had to get to the lodge as soon as possible.
When a space opened in the right lane, she immediately took it, moving up in the line of traffic snaking ahead of her.
Getting into town as soon as possible was a great idea in theory, but not happening in reality.
Deanna finally reached the correct turn-off, and she was so glad to get off the interstate she could have done a happy dance.
If she ever got out of the car, and if her legs still worked, maybe she would.
The supposed five-hour trip had taken six so far.
Luckily, she’d grabbed a coffee and taken a bathroom break a couple of hours ago at some diner.
On the plus side, further off the beaten track, the views were breathtaking.
She’d entered the Adirondacks region, and the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the mountains in the distance framed the edges of her personal landscape.
Pine trees on either side of the road were already frosted and the ground was white as far as she could see.
It was like suddenly being transported to the inside of a magical snow globe.
It was majestic, beautiful, all the descriptive words.
But it was hard to appreciate her surroundings at that moment.
All she wanted was to get to the lodge and snuggle in for a warm night tucked up under blankets, safe from the cold world outside the walls of her cabin.
Preferably after a hot meal. After so much travel, flying from London to New York and then hours of driving, she was exhausted.
And ravenous. She’d murder a burger and fries.
Then, something sputtered. A pathetic sound directly from her car’s engine. She put her foot down a little, hoping to rev herself out of any trouble. No such luck. The car bunny-hopped forward as if she had the handbrake on. But she was still going. Slowly.
“Bloody hell!” Deanna took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths.
She revved the engine again. An unholy screech rang out, the car swerved right, and she struggled with the power steering to correct it, accidentally shooting too far in the other direction.
The next sputter shook the car beneath her seat, the wheels locked, and she skidded on the slippery road until the car came to a halt on the gravel shoulder.
Of course, the engine died.
“Oh, no. Nononononooo!”
Deanna tried turning the key. Despite a choked sound, nothing happened. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door. Stepping out onto the road, she slipped in her sneakers and almost face-planted. Grabbing onto the car roof, she righted herself, and leaned on the car for stability.
She looked up and down the road. Deserted didn’t even cover it. It was too quiet. As in, no people in any direction or even the slightest sign of life. But there were probably eagles or vultures waiting to eat her alive. Or wolves hiding beyond the tree line.
In a hurry to get away from all the nature, Deanna clambered back into the driver’s seat and reached for her phone in the console. She checked it to find…no signal. Panic shivered through her body, like icy pinpricks on her skin. Or it was simply freezing cold.
What to do? Get out and walk a little way and see if she could get phone reception? As she stared blankly out the windshield, that seemed the best option. She held her phone up again and stretched her arms in every direction, trying to catch a glimmer of phone signal to latch on to.
But wait… There had been an email from the lodge earlier. She hadn’t read it properly because she’d wanted to get on the road. Now she opened her email app and read it through. Then she groaned from the depths of her soul.
Dear customer,
Your reservation is not available for the selected time period. Please contact the hotel directly to make a new booking. Your booking fee has been refunded to your nominated credit card. Sorry for any inconvenience caused.
Best regards,
Reservations team
The sign-off from the automated message bot made her want to break something. She scrolled back through her emails and found the one she was looking for. The original confirmation of her booking included a direct phone number, email and the familiar name of the manager at the lodge.
She glared at her phone once more. Maybe she could try to send an email?
“It’s worth a shot.” Deanna breathed out a plume of smoke-like air, frosty in the rapidly cooling temperature.
She tapped out an email, asking the manager to please contact her ASAP as her car had broken down and she was stranded on the road into town with nowhere to stay.
Then she put on her woollen gloves and hat, hopped out of her car, closed the door and started walking along the side of the road.
Glancing at her phone screen as she went, Deanna told herself the situation wasn’t so dire.
If worse came to worst, she could make it the rest of the way into town.
It was about three miles. Yes, it was cold, but she could do it.
She nodded, as she gave herself a little pep talk. “Come on Deanna, it’s not so bad.”
Holding the phone out in front of her, she turned this way and that looking for a phone signal, any signal…
There.
Suddenly she had three bars, and before she could talk herself out of it, she called the local emergency number.
The phone line was busy, which was typical of her recent luck.
She hung up. The next call was to the car hire company.
A recorded message told her to stay on the line, and the current wait time was approximately ten thousand hours, or something.
She gave up on that option as a bad joke.
Then she called the manager at the lodge, Mr Winterbourne. Just in case there was a chance she could still stay there over Christmas and not be pathetic and homeless for the holidays. Deanna would beg if she had to.
“Winterbourne Lodge.” The voice on the other end of the phone was deep, rumbly and epically grumpy, like a bear who’d just been woken from his long winter sleep.
“Hello? Oh, I’m so glad you answered. My name is Deanna Michaelson and I tried to book a cabin, but the reservation was cancelled—”
“We’re closed.”
She sucked in a sharp inhale. “No, you don’t understand, I’m already here. On the road into town. My rental car broke down and it’s cold and I heard a storm is coming and… Please. I need a place to stay, even just for one night.”
“Where exactly?” The epic grumpiness reached new levels of pissed-off, even as his voice became gravellier. He gave off strong ‘leave me alone’ vibes. Mr Winterbourne was more gruff than she remembered.
“Where am I now? In the middle of the road, near the turn off from the interstate to the town centre. There are a lot of trees, and… Oh! A sign on the right says, ‘Tourist trail’ with an arrow pointing straight ahead.”
“I know it. I’ll be there in five. Don’t move.”
“Thank you! I won’t move I’ll stay right—”
But Mr Winterbourne had already hung up. His accent had sounded upper-crust English, just as she remembered from years ago. Deanna reckoned he must be a lonely, curmudgeon of an old man these days. He’d probably appreciate the company once he got used to the idea. Fingers crossed.
She trudged back to her car to wait.
Five minutes later, give or take, Deanna was huddled in her car with her gloved hands shoved under her armpits, wearing her puffer coat. The snow had started falling again, a pretty, soft cover on the road, but a harsh wind picked up, warning of the storm to come.
A flash of headlights up ahead had her gathering her things and getting out of the car again. She waved in the direction of the other car coming towards her. It was a blue ute, or pick-up truck, as Americans called it.
The truck did an expert three-point turn and pulled up alongside her on the gravel at the side of the road. She pressed herself close to the driver’s side door. She got her first glimpse of the man inside the truck when he opened his door and stepped out.
Her first thought was: yummy. Then her brain re-set and she thought, tall, dark, and furious. Very nice indeed, even if he wasn’t pleased. Her gaze caught on his, snagged there, while he squinted at her and frowned.
His black hair flopped over one eyebrow from under his wool hat and his russet brown skin was warm-looking.
She suddenly wanted to rub her cheek against his, feel the texture of that smattering of stubble across his jaw.
Press her body against him, dressed as he was in a thick plaid overcoat and jeans. Maybe she was just cold.
A full body shiver wracked her, as he slammed his car door and marched in her direction.
“Miss Michaelson?” His voice was growly, deeper than on the phone.
Deanna bounced up and down on her toes, which might have turned to ice blocks. “Hello! Thanks so much for coming to my rescue. Do you work for Mr Winterbourne at the lodge?” She stuck out her right hand, inviting him to shake it.
His forehead creased, making him look even grumpier. And he completely ignored her outstretched hand, meeting her gaze with a searing look. “I’m Cal Winterbourne. I’m the manager.”