or something. Weird timing but she’d noticed a line of groomers leveling the snow up on the mountain when they arrived, and it was ten o’clock then. The resort must have to do a lot of their maintenance work after hours, when the skiers were asleep.
Caitlin slid the glass door open and gestured for Liz to precede her. “You’re going to have a great time this weekend, Liz. Not only do you get to enjoy a reunion with your family, but you’re bound to see some of your college friends, too.”
Liz stepped into the warmth of the suite. Yes, some of her friends from college were in the wedding party. And at least one person she would not categorize as a friend. A handsome face swam into focus in her mind. Her heart heaved with a guilty thud. Suddenly, three years didn’t seem very long. Not nearly long enough.
FOUR
Despite the late hour when she finally fell asleep, Liz’s body refused to conform to the two-hour time difference between Kentucky and Utah. Her eyes popped open at six o’clock in the morning.
“Nooo!” She turned over in the bed and covered her head with a pillow to block the sight of the despicable red numbers glaring at her from the alarm clock. Four hours’ sleep was definitely not enough, not with the busy day in store for her.
But a return to sleep proved impossible. Her body told her it was after eight, high time to be up and about. With a resigned sigh, she heaved herself out of bed and stumbled, bleary-eyed, to the bathroom for a shower.
Thirty minutes later, dressed and as ready to face the day as she would ever be, Liz headed for the kitchen of the two-bedroom condo Cousin Debbie reserved for them. The place wasn’t fancy, but diehard skiers typically didn’t care, as long as they had a bed and someplace to dry out their ski clothes at night. The furnishings in the sitting area, an attractive sofa and love seat combo, were clean enough to satisfy even the fastidious Jazzy. The coffee table boasted a few small dings and dents, but the dust-free surface gleamed, and the lemony scent of polish lingering in the air spoke well of the housekeeper’s attention to detail.
The door to the second bedroom was closed. Jazzy and Caitlin were apparently still sleeping.
At least some of us will be rested today, the lucky dogs.
Liz searched the cabinets in the compact kitchen. A set of dishes—two sizes of plates, cereal bowls, mugs with saucers—lay neatly stacked in one, and an assortment of glasses in another. The rest of the cabinets were empty. A coffeemaker sat on the counter, taunting her with its empty carafe.
Wish I’d remembered to pack some coffee. We’re going to the grocery today no matter what.
Liz grabbed her purse and headed for the lobby.
Though the town of Park City boasted many timeshares, condos and hotels, the lodge at Eagle Summit was situated adjacent to the main chairlift of the small, privately-owned ski resort. Out-of-town skiers loved being able to walk a mere hundred feet from their condos to the lift. And a city bus stopped right in front of the lodge, if guests chose to ski at the bigger and more famous area resorts, Deer Valley and Park City Mountain Resort.
Liz preferred Eagle Summit. During her years in college, she’d skied here fairly often. Eagle Summit had fewer chairlifts and not as much in the way of vertical terrain as the more well-known resorts, but Liz had always enjoyed the wide, tree-lined slopes that management kept meticulously groomed. And the lower price college kids paid for a day pass counted for a lot.
Liz remembered one time when she and Tim were skiing—
She skidded to a halt on the stone-tiled floor as she entered the lobby area. No! I will not take a stroll down Memory Lane!
Being back in Utah, and especially up in Park City where Liz had spent so much time with Tim, would trigger a lot of memories if she allowed her mind to wander in that direction. Which she did not intend to do.
In the lobby a dark-haired woman sat behind the front desk, a highly polished counter to the right of the main entryway. She looked up when Liz entered, nodded, and went back to whatever she was doing. Liz scanned the lobby. Wouldn’t you think they’d have coffee set up for the guests who don’t want to fix their own up in their rooms? She couldn’t see any, though.
Beyond the front desk was a coffee shop with no sign of movement in the darkened interior. A copy of today’s edition of USA TODAY rested on the floor in front of the glass door. She spotted a small sign that said they’d open at seven. A wave of irritation tightened her lips, but she forced herself to relax. She’d been up for almost an hour already without coffee; another ten minutes wouldn’t hurt her.
She wandered in the direction of a huge stone fireplace in a cozy sitting area that took up one corner of the lobby. Overstuffed chairs and a big, comfy-looking sofa were clustered around a furry bearskin rug, while a giant moose head stared mournfully at her from above a rough wooden mantle. Though dead animals wouldn’t be Liz’s first choice of room décor, in a lodge-type setting, with thick cedar beams crisscrossing the high ceiling, it worked. She crossed to stand in front of the hearth, enjoying the heat still emanating from a few ash-covered embers in the grate. To the left of the fireplace, three floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto the deserted slopes. The morning sun was starting to lighten the sky but had not yet managed to climb above the mountain peaks. Deep shadows covered the snow-packed ski area.
A jingle behind her made her turn. A fiftyish man dressed in a dark gray suit strode across the lobby fingering a huge set of keys and mumbling to himself. He approached the coffee shop, picked up the newspaper and fitted a key into the lock, his lips moving as he muttered.
Finally. Maybe a jolt of caffeine would chase the heavy tiredness out of her limbs. Liz followed the man through the door.
“Oh.” He turned a startled look her way, which he immediately replaced with a professional smile. “Good morning. I’ll bet you’re looking for a cup of coffee.”
Well, duh. That’s why I’m in a coffee shop. But Liz returned his smile and managed a pleasant, “I sure am.”
“It’ll take me a minute to get it started. The girl who was supposed to open this morning just called in sick, so I’ve got to…” He disappeared into a room behind the serving counter. The drone of his voice continued, though Liz couldn’t make out the words. The overhead lights flickered on, brightening the room considerably. A second later he reappeared, a foil packet in each hand. “But at least you know it’ll be fresh.” He held the packets up for her inspection. “Regular or decaf?”
Liz didn’t hesitate. “Definitely regular.”
“Coming right up.” He whirled around to a metal commercial coffee machine on the back counter and pulled an oversize filter off a stack on a shelf above it. “I haven’t seen you before. Have you been at Eagle Summit all week?”
Liz paced to the far end of the counter to peek into a glass display case. Parchment-covered trays lined two shelves, empty except for a couple of bran muffins. Her stomach threatened to rumble, but there was no telling how long those muffins had been there.
“No, my friends and I arrived last night.”
He slid the basket of coffee grounds into place and pressed a button. The high-pitched sound of water running through pipes began as he turned toward her and extended a hand across the counter. “I didn’t think I’d seen you before. I’m Greg Harrison. My wife and I own the place.”
Surprised, Liz shook his hand. “You own the lodge?”
He waved toward the back wall, beyond which lay the ski area base. “And the resort. Well, us and the bank, of course. We bought it a couple of years ago.” He glanced at the muffins in the case. “Oh, don’t even think about eating those. The bakery should be here with their daily delivery any minute.”
Liz slid into one of the tall wooden chairs as he pulled the old muffins out and wadded up the crumb-covered parchment paper. Eagle Summit must be a smaller business than she thought, if the owner had to step in when a coffee shop worker called in sick.
He