Page 3 of Stranded with the Mountain Man
"I always have multiple contingency plans," she replies, chin lifting slightly. "It's literally my job."
Something about her defensiveness amuses me. "Mountains make their own weather, city girl. Your plans might need plans."
Our eyes meet, and for a second, I see a flash of something—irritation, challenge, maybe a hint of curiosity. Then it's gone, and I turn back to my work. Not my business if another city planner wants to underestimate Darkmore. I've helped rescue enough of them over the years. Helping with the mortar is just some of the handyman stuff I do on the side of my real job, working for Darkmore Search and Rescue.
Helen leads her away toward the bridal suite, and I return to my mortar mixture. It needs to set properly before the temperature drops tonight. The forecast this morning called for snow starting around midnight, but my shoulder and the leaden sky tell me it'll be here much sooner.
I work steadily for another hour, finishing the repairs and cleaning up my tools. Through the great room windows, I can see the first gray clouds building over the highest peaks. Time to call it a day and get back to my cabin before the roads get bad.
My radio crackles as I'm loading equipment into my truck.
"Boone, you copy?" It's Marcus, our SAR coordinator.
I grab the radio from my belt. "Copy. What's up?"
"Storm front's accelerated. Environment Canada just upgraded to a winter storm warning. Expected accumulation twelve to eighteen inches overnight, winds gusting to sixty kilometers."
"Copy that. I'm heading out from the lodge now."
"Team on standby alert. Davidson Pass might close if it hits as hard as they're saying. You good with supplies at your place?"
I almost laugh. "Always am."
"Right. Forgot who I was talking to." There's a smile in Marcus's voice. "Check in when you get home."
"Will do."
I toss my toolbox into the truck bed and glance back at the lodge. Most of the staff know the drill—they'll either stay overnight in the staff quarters or head down the mountain now. The wedding planner though—she's likely on a tight schedule without room for weather delays.
Sure enough, as I'm securing the tarp over my equipment, I spot her through the lobby windows, gesturing emphatically while talking on her phone. Even from here, I can read the tension in her posture. Helen stands nearby, looking concerned.
Not my problem. I've got my own preparations to make. My cabin's generator needs to be topped off, and I should bring in extra firewood from the woodshed. The forecast was looking mild for the week, so I didn't stock the indoor rack to capacity.
I'm about to get in my truck when Helen waves me down from the entrance. With a sigh, I walk over.
"Jace, got a minute?"
"Storm's coming in fast, Helen. Need to get home."
"I know, that's the problem." She lowers her voice. "Ms. Fox's flight back to Toronto isn't until tomorrow afternoon, but we're fully booked tonight with that corporate retreat. There's not a room to be had, and Davidson Pass will likely close before she can make it to Silver Ridge for alternate accommodations."
I see where this is going. "The lodge has a staff lounge."
"The retreat group is using it for their breakout sessions." Helen gives me a look that I recognize all too well—the same one my mother used to give when she'd already decided I was going to do something and was just waiting for me to realize it too.
"There's a perfectly good motel ten kilometers down the mountain," I try, even though I know it's futile.
"Which she won't reach if the storm hits as forecasted in the next hour."
I glance at the sky. The clouds have darkened considerably just in the time we've been talking. The first snowflakes are starting to fall—fat, wet ones that mean business.
"Your cabin is the closest safe option, Jace," Helen continues. "It's just for one night."
I run a hand through my hair, calculating. My cabin is private—my sanctuary after dealing with people all day. But it's also only a five-minute drive from the lodge, on a road I could navigate blindfolded. The alternative might be a stranded city girl trying to drive unfamiliar mountain roads in a rental car with city tires.
As a SAR specialist, I've seen how that story ends too many times.
"Fine," I concede. "But she needs to be ready in five minutes."
