Chapter 6 Ford #2
“That He does,” I said, as I watched her animated expressions while she spoke. She certainly had my full attention—she was entertaining as all get out. A little noise came from Priscilla, and Presley jumped up.
“Did you finish that already?” she asked, getting down on the ground to check out her dog's toy. “I filled this with the tiniest bit of peanut butter—kept her entertained for at least an hour!” Presley exclaimed. The dog looked dang proud of herself as she licked her little lips clean.
“Cute,” I said, surprising myself. Cute?
I know I had prayed to be a changed man but did I really just say that out loud?
God, have You softened me up that much already?
Looking at the dog, Priscilla, I couldn’t deny that she was adorable.
This evening, she was sporting a purple sweater and had two matching bows in her hair.
Presley must have changed her outfit from earlier because I didn’t remember it.
Or maybe, I was just too self-absorbed to notice. Probably the latter.
Presley brought over a fluffy dog bed for Priscilla to sit in while she returned to the puzzle, but instead, the dog went and got a drink at the tiniest little dog bowl I’d ever seen next to the kitchen island.
It was so small, I didn’t think I would have noticed it otherwise—probably the size of my palm.
As she got what sounded like a much-needed drink, the record started winding down.
If I recalled correctly, there were maybe three songs left before it needed to be flipped.
It was already dark outside, and the day was catching up to me.
I decided at the end of this record, I would go to bed.
“Now, tell me about you, Ford,” Presley smiled.
“Well, there’s not much to tell that you probably don’t already know,” I said, considering she’d been my roommate for two days.
“Try me.”
“Let’s see. I’m a skijorer. Been doing that since I was about nine years old.
” She nodded, signaling that she wanted more.
“I won a national championship a few years ago, and that’s what qualified me for the Winter Games.
Now, I’m just competing in those, pretty much.
With brand deals, I stay pretty busy, which is awesome.
” I was quickly running out of material to give her.
A sliver of doubt made me wonder if she had already looked me up online and knew about Poppy and the shameful breakup.
I shook that thought from my mind, reminding myself that the devil wanted me to feel shame and doubt, not God.
“What about you? What else do you like to do? Skiing, of course.” As she pressed, I started to think outside of skijoring.
“It’s a hard question to answer, because skijoring is the thing that has all but consumed every inch of my life for the last decade. Kind of like how you said about publishing.” Her eyes widened.
“Thank you for sharing. And listening to me,” she said.
It wasn’t lost on me how low the bar was set for this woman, but I was one of the worst offenders for not listening, so I just nodded.
It was clear that we both had been through some rough experiences with the opposite sex, and I’d leave it at that if she did.
“I totally get it. I always wanted so much more in life, but the success of my career trumped it. I no longer had time for anything that wasn't publishing. Sometimes I think I’d trade it all for a family,” she said, hiding behind her words as she pretended to analyze the puzzle box.
Little did she know, I felt her pain. In the next room, my computer let out a familiar chime.
“Excuse me. I didn’t realize the computer was still on. It does this annoying thing whenever I get an email,” I joked and walked to the office.
Pulling up a browser, I checked my messages.
The property management company I used had replied to my previous email about Presley’s chalet.
The bad news was they wouldn’t be able to fix that fireplace issue so easily.
It was going to have to be a project for late spring, when contractors could come up and fix things properly.
The good news was they had an opening for a no-show in chalet #5.
The guests couldn’t make it due to the roads being closed down.
I read the email with a mixed bag of emotions.
The woman I was hosting here in my home had somewhere else to go.
Surely, they were going to reach out to her next and let her know.
How would she react? Would she be anxious to leave, to get away from me?
For some reason, I wanted her to stay here with me.
I wasn’t proud of it, but for a moment, I contemplated simply omitting the fact there was another option for her lodging.
Jesus, help me. Not telling her would be slimy, and a hostage situation.
All I could do was come clean. And that’s exactly what I’d do.
Returning to the table that was now covered with a nearly-completed puzzle border, I spilled the beans.
“That was the property management company. There is nothing they can do about your chalet; it will require much more extensive repairs, unfortunately. But chalet #5 is open because the guests couldn’t get here.
Though the power might be out, it does have a working fireplace, if you’d like to have your own space again.
” The look on her face was familiar. While I’d never been a good interpreter, I sensed that she wanted to know what I wanted out of the situation.
So, I added something in. “Of course, I think it’s fun having you here if you’d like to stay, you know, with electricity and all that. ” She smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, if it’s no problem, I don’t think I want to be walking around with a flashlight. Unless the power turns back on, of course,” Presley nodded to herself.
“Of course,” I said back. Though I found myself praying that it wouldn’t.
Almost everywhere in Sage Mountain had generators.
The fact that my brand-new chalets were lacking them was almost a little embarrassing.
I was just glad I had thought to get mine installed before moving in.
But, as long as the ski resort could stay open for all of this fresh snow, I didn’t care.
I had enough diesel reserves to run the generator for a month if it came down to it.
As I lingered in the chalet, wondering if I should join her back at the table or remove myself from the room altogether, a foreign noise came from the back bedroom, Presley’s room. Presley heard it too, as she stood up and paused.
“What was that?” she asked. We were both on high alert as we walked to the room.
At first, nothing seemed out of place. Her bed was made so well, the sheets had to have been ironed.
None of her things were out except for her phone charging on the nightstand.
The room smelled like a bouquet of flowers, which must have been Presley’s perfume.
I would have known if I had stood that close to her, but I didn’t plan on it anytime soon because of boundaries. But then, I took one step inside.
“The window is broken!” Presley called out, pointing to a large crack in the glass. “Do you have any duct tape?” The window was so large that I didn’t think that tape could fix it, but I didn’t want to discourage her idea, either—something that an hour ago I wouldn’t have considered.
“I think I have a roll in my garage. Let me go check,” I said, tearing out of the chalet. What on earth could have broken that window? I decided to take a quick trek around the chalet to see if I could see anything out of the ordinary. But first, I needed a flashlight.
My garage had a lot of random things in it; some of the remaining construction materials from all of the chalets had been stored there, hence, why I didn’t park in it yet.
I needed time to go through it and see what was what.
Miraculously, I found a large, yellow flashlight sitting right next to a fresh roll of duct tape.
“Thank you, Lord!” The praise came to me so naturally, I didn’t think about it.
Joy, through this hiccup, was possible. I left the garage to do a quick perimeter search around the building before going back inside.
All of the chalets were three stories; you had your garage at the street level; the front door up some heated concrete steps, so no slipping on ice; and then inside, there was an upstairs loft.
I loved the design because I could see more mountain peaks and chairlifts this way.
I could tell if some of my favorite runs were groomed without pulling it up on the internet.
But right now in the dark, with the chalet towering above me, I found the design adding difficulty to determining what exactly went wrong here.
Then, I saw it: A tree branch had broken from the snowfall and was waving in the wind, hitting the chalet with every breeze.
I surmised a large gust pushed it hard into the chalet.
Since it was still attached and could fall at any moment, and I was standing under it, I hightailed it out of there and went back inside, while my boot prints were filling back up with powder as soon as I made them.
“It’s that tree branch, right there.” I pointed to it out the window, holding the flashlight so Presley could see it outside.
“Oh no! I hope it doesn’t hit the window again.
Do you think there’s anyone who can come fix that tonight, so it doesn’t?
” A loud crack sounded as the branch swung back at the chalet, making us both jump.
Presley screamed and her body fell into mine in fear.
For a moment, we were in an embrace; I stiffened, knowing that temptation was real.
She whispered an apology and took a few steps away.
I paused, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so I answered her question.