Anita Bunkley - Suite Embrace

His condescending tone hit a nerve in Skylar that sent a hot flash into her chest. “If I can afford them?” she tossed back, trying to keep her voice within some kind of a normal range. “That’s a rude thing to say. How dare you insinuate that I have to worry about money? Do I look like a sister who has money problems?” she asked, biting down hard on her bottom lip to keep from blurting out the secret she was determined to keep as long as she was in Aspen.

“No, no,” the man stuttered helplessly, obviously embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that at all.”

Skylar glared at him, unable to respond. She was wearing dark rinse jeans, a white cable knit sweater, a brown leather bomber jacket and brown ankle boots. Her jewelry was understated, but real gold, and she knew her hairstylist back in Tampa had hooked up her locks just fine before she left town. I might not look like a fashion diva, but I know I don’t look ghetto, either, she told herself. In her most flippant, sister-girl voice, she told the guy, “Look. You don’t even know me, so don’t get too personal, okay? I don’t need your help, and I surely don’t need your investment advice.”

The man threw up both hands and stepped back, smiling. “Hey. Sorry if I offended you. I was only trying to help you save money in the long run. I was just offering a tip from experience.”

“Leave her alone,” the blond woman now interjected, moving close and slipping her arm possessively through her companion’s. She graced Skylar with a smug, too-sweet smile, and clutched her apparent boyfriend’s jacket sleeve even harder. “If the lady wants to waste her money, let her. We have other things to do than worry about her. I told you I wanted to go over to Duval’s. Come on,” she said and gave the guy’s arm a hard tug.

Infuriated by the man’s intrusion, the woman’s catty remark and her fake smile, Skylar was tempted to snatch a handful of curly blonde hair from the woman’s head. But instead, she rolled her eyes at the nosy couple and spun around. If they’re the kind of people I’ll have to deal with up here, then this temporary gig is going to be hell. Deena owes me big-time.

Mark watched the woman with the aviators push through the glass door and disappear, wondering who she was and where she was staying. Though his face appeared calm, his heart was pounding a steady drum beat inside his chest and he couldn’t understand why. The woman was attractive in a refreshingly wholesome way that he rarely saw among the stressed-out, wealthy, high-strung types that usually frequented Gorsuch’s. Beautiful, flawless brown skin. Not too tall, but not too short, either. Well dressed, but not flamboyantly attired in trendy, overpriced clothing. She was a fresh vision in this spend-crazy, out-to-impress kind of town.

A real natural beauty!

While waiting for the clerk to ring up the sale, he glanced out the front window and saw the woman in the bronze aviators drive off in a bright red Jeep. Mark smiled. She’d be easy to find. All he had to do was pass out a bunch of twenty dollar bills to the doormen at every hotel in town and sooner or later he’d get a call informing him who she was and where she was staying. The thought of tracking down the beautiful stranger created a warm glow of anticipation that spread throughout Mark’s body and made him want to thank Goldie for smashing her goggles against a pine tree yesterday and forcing him into town.

Deena Simpson walked out onto the balcony of her five-room apartment on the fourth floor of the main lodge at Scenic Ridge, her cell phone pressed to her ear. Shading her eyes with one hand, she focused on the narrow winding road that led up from Woody Creek, watching for Skylar’s Jeep. The only drivers who would be on the road that curved and twisted as it rose into the mountains were those bound for Scenic Ridge, as it dead-ended at the two stone posts that flanked the front gates of the resort.

“Where are you now?” she spoke into the phone, getting a bit anxious. Skylar had called her from the airport when she arrived in Aspen to tell Deena that she was going to stop in town to pick up a few things, but would be right along. That had been three hours ago. Deena guessed that her suddenly rich sister had decided to do some major retail damage in town. And she deserves to, Deena thought, elated that the Dorchester settlement had been so generous, freeing Skylar from any financial worries for the rest of her life—if she managed her money well.

It was amazing to think that Skylar was a rich woman now, and could buy whatever she wanted. When she and Deena were children, their hard-working parents had earned just enough money to cover life’s necessities, with little left over to indulge their children. They had been ultraconservative in their spending and cautious about everything they did, refusing to take risks or try anything new that might upset their carefully balanced lives. Deena often thought that her parents’ approach to life was what had made her run off to Colorado and marry Jerome. His plan to build a ski school in Aspen country was bold, risky and exciting. Now, her life in the mountains was very far removed from her childhood upbringing, and Deena never regretted setting off on this grand adventure with her husband.

“Have you passed the covered bridge yet?” she asked. “You have? Good, then you’re on the right road. Just stay on it and keep driving uphill, even when it narrows down to a single lane and you think you’re going to drive off the edge. Trust me, you won’t. See you in a bit.”

Deena snapped off the phone and leaned against the rough pine railing that surrounded the spacious wraparound balcony.

As she waited for Skylar, she surveyed the spectacular wintry landscape spread out across the two hundred acres that she and Jerome had turned into a working ski school and vacation resort over the past twenty years. As newlyweds and avid skiers, they had purchased the remote parcel of land at the upper end of the Roaring Fork Valley from Jerome’s father for a fraction of its market value. The land, part of a land grant settlement originally deeded to Jerome’s great-great-grandfather, had remained wild and undeveloped for over fifty years.

Jerome and Deena threw themselves into the project with a great deal of enthusiasm, risking everything they owned to create the small, intimate teaching resort. It had been a struggle to turn a profit, but now it was beginning to draw ski enthusiasts and students from across the country as well as from some of the more popular resorts in the Aspen area.

The main lodge of Scenic Ridge was a four-story replica of a classic Swiss mountain chalet, but with all the conveniences of a modern hotel. Years ago, when she and Jerome were designing the main lodge they decided to turn the east-facing end of the fourth floor into their private five-room apartment, decorated in a sleek modern style, while the guest suite at the other end of the hall had a definite Western flair.

Each of the other fifty-two guest rooms was exquisitely decorated in an Old World European manner with touches of the silver mining days of the Victorian West tossed in.

In addition to the main lodge, five private cabins that represented the ultimate in modern convenience and rustic charm were strategically placed around the property, booked by those who were willing to pay a premium price for the privacy and independence such accommodations provided.

As African-Americans living in an area of the country where less than two percent of the population was nonwhite, Deena and Jerome had quickly realized that the only way to attract more folks like themselves to the slopes was to build a resort that was affordable, comfortable and focused on teaching people how to ski. Deena and Jerome decided to take on the task of teaching beginners what they needed to know to take up skiing as a recreational sport and send a message to everyone of any class or race that all were welcome and would feel at home while learning how to safely hit the powder and have a good time.