Page 70 of Not Home Alone
“Hey,” I say, to get her attention again. “If we were in Manhattan right now, I’d take you to the top of the Empire State Building. Amazing views. Very romantic at night. Especially in the winter when there are Christmas lights everywhere. You ever been?”
“No. I’ve always wanted to, though.”
“Too bad there isn’t a place like that in Holly Grove,” I muse. “Not a skyscraper, obviously, but a spot above the town with a view…”
“Uh, there is.”
“Yeah?” I feign ignorance. “Where?”
“You’re joking, right? Your family owns it. The Holly Mountain Ski Resort. There’s an observation deck.”
“Oh yeah.” I get up to grab the fleece blanket and thermos I left by the doorway. “Let’s go.”
Her face lights up. “Isn’t that part of the resort closed this time of night?”
“It is.” I give her a wink. “Good thing you know a guy with the security codes.”
It’s only a fifteen-minute drive to the ski resort from the house. It’s a clear night, no snow on the winding roads. Holly Mountain is not, geologically speaking, a real mountain. It’s a large hill that overlooks the Holly Grove valley. It’s called a mountain for marketing purposes only, but there are a couple of advanced runs as well as bunny slopes and intermediate runs. Good skiing for locals and good enough to draw regional tourists. The resort would be making money hand over fist, if anyone other than Todd were running it. But thanks to me, it’s doing all right.
I park in the owner/employees lot at the base of the resort, get out, quickly circling around the car to open the passenger door and offer my hand to help Merrily out. She thanks me with a smile. I’ve never been a car door opening kind of guy, but for Merrily, I am. Carrying the blanket and thermos under one arm, I hold her gloved hand with the other as we walk to the path that leads to the ski lift.
We don’t speak, and I like that. Not that I don’t enjoy nearly every surprising thing that comes out of this woman’s mouth, as long as it isn’t that Mariah Carey song, but it’s nice to have someone to be silent with. We just listen to the sound of the breeze rustling the trees, footsteps on the gravel, and the gentle creaking of the cables up ahead. Other than that, it’s so quiet, but the anticipation of what’s to come has my heart beating fast, and I wonder if she can hear it.
We get to the control booth at the base of the lift. I unlock it and punch in the code. Then I flip the switch to power up the lift. It slowly comes alive. I’ve always loved the mechanical hum of the motors engaging. The grinding and clicking of the mechanism starting up. The background hum once the whole system is running. I like making things happen.
“I used to sneak up here at night when I was home from boarding school,” I tell her as we stroll over to the loading area.
“Figured I’m not the first girl you brought up here,” she says in a tone that’s not at all accusatory and, if I’m not mistaken, laced with a little regret.
“Actually, you are. It was just me and a flask of whiskey.”
She narrows her eyes at me, but she’s grinning. “Oh, come on.”
“For real. This is the first time I’ve ever wanted to share it with someone.”
“The whiskey?”
“The experience.”
She searches my face for clues that this is some bullshit line. Truth mixed in with a lie. But all she’ll find is the truth. Her eyelids flutter and she shivers, swaying a little.
I rub her arm. “Cold?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Good. You ready?” I nod toward the lift chairs as they begin their slow loop up the cables.
She bites her lower lip. “It’s been years since I’ve gotten up on one of these, actually.”
She’s nervous about getting on the ski lift. The sudden rush of protectiveness I feel for her surprises me. I guess it shouldn’t, at this point. I don’t want to hurt her, and I don’t want her to get hurt.
“It’s pretty easy. We just stand in front of a chair as it approaches, with our backs to it and let it scoop us into it. I’ll pull the safety bar down. And that’s it. Promise I won’t let you fall.”
“Okay. What if I miss it?”
“You won’t. I got you.” We step over as another chair comes around, facing the summit and looking over our shoulders. “Okay, now,” I tell her. We sit back as it reaches us. I pull the safety bar down and we lift our feet. She gasps as it carries us off the ground.
“Shit. I forgot how much fun that is!” She giggles and squeals, kicking her legs as they dangle below.
