The Chalet Next Door

Chapter 1 Presley

All Roads Lead to Sage Mountain

“A big storm is expected tonight to hit Sage Mountain Ski Area—forecasters are saying up to eighteen inches of powder, just in time for the Winter Games!” The radio alerting me of the upcoming forecast was good news, as I was not trekking these snow-covered roads for poor skiing conditions.

“Did you hear that, Priscilla? Mommy’s going to ski powder!

” My Shih Tzu didn’t seem to care about the upcoming fresh snow.

She was all curled up on the passenger seat in her cozy donut bed, atop a heating pad and wearing her cute, lime green sweater.

I switched the radio station back to the Christian music channel.

As I drove around a bend, majestic mountains came into view.

“Girl’s trip, Priscilla! Isn’t this fun?

” She didn’t even look up at me this time, perfectly nestled in her warm seat.

“Just me, Jesus, and my Shih Tzu,” I laughed, clasping the silver cross necklace I wore.

“No man can say I’m too much when it’s just me and my doggy.

” I sighed, remembering just yesterday when I booked this last-minute trip to recharge my internal batteries, but I’d often felt silly about going somewhere alone.

I didn’t need a man to be happy or complete—I just needed my relationship with God.

And besides, Priscilla made the perfect travel companion.

I shot another glance at her and now her back was to me.

The song playing was a familiar ballad I had heard in church, as I tried to sing along, but missed all of the beats and lyrics.

Priscilla was looking at me again, no doubt judging my terrible voice.

I turned it up a notch to drown out my singing right as it ended.

“Next up we have a rendition of Hallelujah from one of our local singers right here in Sage Mountain, Wyoming. But before we play it, we have a word from our sponsors about the Winter Games!”

In the last thirty minutes, I’d heard more about the Winter Games than I had about the snowstorm that was supposedly going to hit us.

“You do not want to miss Sage Mountain’s Winter Games!

Hosted by Sage Mountain’s Olympic gold medalist ski jumper, Theo McCain.

The annual Skijoring Competition at this year's event will have reigning champion, Ford—” The radio cut out as I drove through a dead spot.

I turned it off, seeing as I was only fifteen minutes away from the resort, according to my built-in GPS in my Yukon.

As I drove the winding roads in silence, my mind immediately went back to the anxieties at work.

Since becoming a book publisher in Denver, I’d had several highly sought after novels published under my imprint.

With waking up every day to a freshly full inbox of new submissions, my life consisted of reading.

I read while I brushed my teeth. While I cooked dinner.

I no longer had time to watch television or listen to music, as my phone could read the submissions to me while driving.

I reached a breaking point yesterday around 9 in the morning, when my cup of coffee spilled on my blouse, as I was already late for work in epic proportions from oversleeping.

I stayed up too late the night before reading manuscript submissions.

Once the coffee touched my white silk blouse, I discovered I was burned out.

While I was incredibly thankful for the success to which God had made possible at my young age of twenty-six, I had almost no time to myself.

I’d begun to lose my identity and forget the things I enjoyed.

I lived in Denver, Colorado—just a few hours from some of the greatest skiing in the Rockies—and I couldn’t remember the last time I skied.

Or, had my phone off. Not checking my email for an hour felt like a rebellion—until now.

Yesterday, I may have had a bit of a meltdown.

Some might have considered it a nervous breakdown, but thankfully, Priscilla was my only witness.

And now, I was driving to a luxury chalet at the base of a hopping ski resort, Sage Mountain, Wyoming.

I’d be merely steps to the brand-new Gondola installed last year, having almost an entire week of relaxation and time away from my team, who were more than capable of handling things.

I just needed to give them the opportunity to do so. Right?

According to my therapist, my long singledom had created even more of a powerhouse woman out of me.

While men I had met in the last few years had generally thought of me as “too busy” or “too successful,” “too this” or “too that,” I’d overcompensated in my career.

It was a classic chicken and the egg scenario.

Was I always this driven to take over the world of publishing, or did men rejecting me make me this way?

I graduated college on a fast track—finishing my degree in three years instead of four.

When I signed on at a publishing firm, only a year had passed before they let me have my own imprint, where I was publishing Christian books and novels written by and for readers in my same age group.

At times, er—most of the time—it was a lot of pressure to keep up, but I was doing everything I could to stay above water.

However, with the agony of my dating experiences, things had felt more strained. Until recently.

The Lord had freed me of those past hurts.

I didn’t want to hand over the reins and let people take things off my plate.

That’s why, yesterday, after arriving at work on Monday morning in my still-stained blouse, I promoted my assistant, Jenny, to stand in for me while I was away.

Once she got over her deer-in-headlights expression, I thought she accepted the task.

I wasn’t really sure. I was already out the door.

Truthfully, I was a little nervous how things would be without me there for an entire week.

We had a pretty big launch planned for a new devotional book geared towards single women.

I admitted I had a bias for the material matter, but I took a deep breath, and I trusted that Jenny could handle things, as she had been by my side for three years. We’d practically built it together.

As I approached the resort, the snow piled high on surrounding roof tops and pine trees was a feast for my eyes.

It was as if everything has been sprinkled in sparkling powdered sugar.

Smoke was curling from chimneys, and a chill came over me from excitement.

“The vacation rental listing mentioned it was close to main street,” I said aloud, not that Priscilla cared.

As I traversed the main drag, I was charmed by the twinkling lights adorning every tree, light pole, and building and the beautiful ice-skating rink in the center of town.

I imagined going there for an evening and sliding around on the glassy ice; the thought brought warmth to my soul.

“Priscilla, there’s a pet store!” I excitedly exclaimed as the Pawesome Pooch store came and went.

“I bet a sweater from there would cost me a good chunk of my salary,” I mumbled, smiling and rolling my eyes at the thought of how Priscilla liked expensive things.

She seemed to know the difference between wool and acrylic.

A large, flashing digital billboard advertising the Winter Games flashed a photo of a handsome cowboy and then showed a promo photo of him skijoring with a cowboy hat.

“Hello, cowboy,” I mumbled, making my last turn before the chalet.

“They just make them different up here in Wyoming,” I giggled, reminiscing about that cowboy’s rugged jawline.

“You have arrived at your destination,” my GPS screamed into the abyss of silence in my car. I yelped back out of fright, as I was deep in thought, contemplating cowboys at a ski resort, which further annoyed Priscilla for interrupting her beauty sleep.

The luxury chalet row was incredible, just off the main road for the resort in a line of many individual chalets, all managed by the same company.

A fleeting thought of wonder passed my mind for who owned them.

I pulled up my Yukon to the chalet that I reserved, with a large “2” hanging on the downstairs door.

The smell of pine trees was intoxicating; I could practically hear the crackling of logs in the fire.

I left my skis outside the front door in a snow mound, grabbed my bags and ski boots, and after a quick potty break for Priscilla outside, I punched in the code for the front door and was greeted by a stunning floorplan.

Light hardwood floors, tan wood beams on the ceiling, and a grand chandelier hanging over the extra-plush sectional couch.

A beautiful off-white kitchen with glistening granite countertops had all gold finishes and hardware.

Floor to ceiling windows gave the most remarkable view of a snowy pine tree forest, with a hint of Sage Mountain’s chairlifts in the distance.

The corners of the windows were delicately frosted from the cold.

It was like living in a snow globe in the dreamiest winter wonderland.

I kicked off my shoes. As Priscilla started roaming around, I wondered why I hadn’t thought of this sooner.

An hour later, following a mad case of the zoomies, Priscilla was snoring in her bed in front of the gas fireplace.

She was bouncing off the walls just moments ago, which was adorable to watch.

We even played fetch for a bit, though she found running around the coffee table more interesting than her toys I brought from home.

I had a fresh mug of hot cocoa—the real kind made from milk and chocolate—and it was divine, while I clicked on the television to see another weather report.