Chapter 1
Madison
DAY ONE
Wow!Theskichaletis huge, dwarfing all the other surrounding vacation homes. Fluffy soft snowflakes land on my upturned face, melting instantly into cold rivulets of water running down my freezing cheeks while I stand, staring up at the impressive wood and stone structure.
The building towers before me, casting a faint shadow over the deep snowdrifts that have formed on the sidewalk. I recheck the address on my cell just to make sure I’ve not made a mistake and that this really is Jasmine’s family’s place. I know Cassie said that her father is a rich property developer, but this is next-level,mega-billionaire typerich.
I can’t believe I am going to spend Christmas here. The building is totally gorgeous, like the type you find on Christmas cards or cookie tins at this time of the year. I’m not used to this level of luxury on my elementary school teacher’s salary.
Thankfully someone has already cleared the path up to the front door. I drag my large bag along the rough stone pathway, hoping I don’t lose one of the wheels in the process. There’s a possibility that I’ve overpacked for my six days stay in Aspen, but I would argue that a girl needs to be prepared for all eventualities, and I’ve made sure I am.
With an almighty heave, I drag the bag up over each of the three stone steps, moving cautiously in case there are any icy patches. My new snow boots seem to have good grip, but I don’t want to take any chances of getting injured before I even strap on a snowboard for the first time.
Some people who know me might say I’m clumsy, but I don’t agree. Keeping up with my class of seven- and eight-year-olds keeps me busy, and the result is that I sometimes trip over my feet or something else. Occasionally even someone else.
A few more steps, and I’m across the wide wraparound porch, standing safely before the oversized front door. I press the button on the keypad entry system, and the disembodied voice of Jasmine comes reassuringly through the speaker. She buzzes me in, and I’m only just over the threshold when Cassie comes hurtling along the hallway, throwing her arms around me in a hug.
It’s been a few months since I last saw my best friend Cassie, who I’ve known since day one of elementary school.
“Mads, you’re finally here. It’s been too long.” Words tumble from Cassie’s lips, and if I could get a few of my own in, I’d be agreeing with her. I miss seeing my best friend on a regular basis, ever since she moved from Florida to Manhattan a couple of years ago.
When I’m finally released from her tight squeeze, I’m next engulfed in a hug from Luke, Cassie’s husband and another of my best friends from school. Cassie and Luke were inseparable our final year of high school, but after graduation, Luke signed up to join the army and Cassie went off to college. Years later in Manhattan, the stars aligned, and they finally got a second chance at love. I always thought they belonged together, and every time the three of us catch up, I’m glad I was right.
Cassie hooks her arm to mine and drags me across the polished wooden floor of the entry. “Come on. The others are in the great room.” We instantly slip back into our friendship groove. It’s like pulling on a worn favorite sweater.
Luke takes my bag still clasped in my other hand. “I’ll put this up in your room,” he tells me, and I barely have a chance to thank him before Cassie is determinedly pulling me after her again.
We come into a huge open-plan space. Cassie wasn’t wrong; this is agreat room. Wooden vaulted ceiling beams soar impressively above us, matched by a complete wall of large, dark wooden-framed windows. The panoramic views they provide of snow-covered slopes are more spectacular than any of the opulent furnishings that fill the interior. This is the quintessential private mountain retreat.
A massive stone fireplace, complete with a roaring fire, dominates the room and is surrounded by plump cream sofas and tan leather chairs. And that is where I see our friends Jasmine and Scott leaning back on the cushions of one of the sofas while they sip on steamy mugs of what I hope is hot chocolate. I call themour friends,but they are more my friends’ friends, and over the years I’ve adopted them as mine too. Jasmine is Cassie’s friend from college, and Scott is her Australian boyfriend.
Everyone stands to greet me with a hug, and by the time I’m done, Cassie is returning from the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate for me. She knows me so well.
I take a seat on another of the sofas, my body sighing when I sink into the squishy softness of the cushions. It’s a perfect mix for my travel-weary body, a cozy sofa and a warm drink. I survey the huge room more fully. Just off to the right of the fireplace is one of the largest Christmas trees I have ever seen in a home. It’s nearly the size of a corporate lobby tree, and its decorated branches are filled with large shiny gold balls and delicate glass ornaments, which I’ll have to get a closer look at later. Hundreds of white lights twist in and around the branches, showcasing each of the ornaments in their own little set of spotlights. I can’t help smiling at this gorgeous reminder of the holidays. I love Christmastime.
I didn’t always. But ever since I graduated from high school, I’ve spent the holidays with Cassie’s family, and my whole view of the festive season has changed.
My first Christmas with them was the one after my parents’ divorce, and it was just easier to be with her family than to try to decide which parent I should spend it with. My dysfunctional parents, for as long as I can remember, have treated me like a bargaining chip to be used to score points against each other. And that does not make for a fun holiday season. At eighteen, I wasn’t about to let them ruin another Christmas for me, so I took matters into my own hands, and I’ve enjoyed all of my Christmases since, even with all the history stacked against me.
This year, though, Cassie’s mom and dad have decided to go on a Christmas cruise in the Caribbean. Something they’ve talked about for years.
It’s going to be a different Christmas celebration, in a different location, with a different group of people, but I’m already getting that same warm, happy feeling. Break out the eggnog and sugar cookies; I’m ready to celebrate my first white Christmas.
Cassie returns, placing two more mugs on the stone coffee table before flopping down beside me. She picks up a pink mug with a cheery snowman on it and touches it to my blue snowflake one. “To snowy days and hot chocolate nights.” Oh yes, that is the kind of toast I want to make.
Aspen, Colorado, feels like a world away from where I woke up this morning, at home in Daytona, Florida. It’s certainly been a long journey with my five-hour flight across country and then the Uber from the airport to the chalet. Thank goodness I managed to get an early morning direct flight, or it would have been even longer. Now I’m here, and through the glass windows in the distance, can see Aspen Mountain with the gondola cutting a pathway through the trees, this is worth every second of travel time.
Luke rejoins us, picking up the second hot chocolate from the coffee table. The smiling Santa mug looks ridiculous in his big fist, but then that’s the joy of the season. Christmas sweaters, silly Santa hats, and festive kitsch mugs.
Still smiling, I look around at the faces of both couples, and I can’t help thinking a little guiltily,damn Chloe and her last-minute change of plans. Chloe, Cassie’s little sister, was meant to travel with me to Aspen, but at the last minute, she was offered a free trip to Hawaii with a group of college friends and changed her plans.
Oh well. I’m not going to let a little thing like being the only single bother me. I have every intention of making my first white Christmas one to remember.
Heat suffuses my body inside and out thanks to the sweet, revitalizing hot chocolate and the large well-stoked wood fire, and Jasmine offers to show me to my room. I follow her up the steep wooden staircase, the walls lined with various black and white photos of snow-covered mountains that remind me of an Ansell Adams book of photography I once read. I think it was when I was going through my photography phase during my first year of college.
On the second level, she leads me along a wide hallway with a picture window at the far end framing the view of Aspen Mountain’s peak. She tells me there are six bedrooms, and I count each of the closed doors as we pass them, three on each side. The last one on the left is mine, and when she opens the door, I stop listening to her explanation about the rooms and their adjoining bathrooms. Wow, this is even better than the four-star hotel I stayed in for my last vacation. At the time, I thought that was fancy; I was wrong.
