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Chapter Three
The Al Johnson Memorial Uphill Downhill Race commemorated the exploits of a pioneering mail carrier, but in typical Crested Butte fashion, it featured competitors in zany costumes, a carnival atmosphere and an excuse for locals and visitors alike to party.
While Angela wouldn’t be caught dead barreling up a six-hundred-foot incline while dressed in a large, pink bunny costume or similar outlandish garb, she was happy to volunteer her services handing out hot chocolate to race participants and fans at the base of the Silver Queen lift. From there, participants made their way to the starting point at the bottom of the North Face lift. Racers could choose to ski the entire course by themselves, but many opted to form relay teams, with one racer handling the uphill portion, the other the downhill. Keeping with the spirit of commemorating Al Johnson’s legacy, the uphill racer had to deliver a letter to his or her team member.
Other than that, anything went, and did. As she dispensed paper cups of cocoa, Angela saw teams dressed as a hot dog and a jar of mustard, Betty and Barney Rubble, twin tigers and Batman and Robin.
“Zephyr looks almost ordinary in this crowd,” said Trish Sanders, who was serving coffee next to Angela.
“Is he racing?” Angela asked. Though she’d never personally met the colorful snowboarder and rock guitarist turned talk-show host, Zephyr was the kind of person it was impossible to ignore.
“No, he’s filming for his show. Oh, there he is. With Max.” Trish pointed to where the blond-dreadlocked boarder was interviewing a burly skier who was dressed in a Colorado Avalanche hockey uniform.
Max Overbridge owned the snowboard and bicycle shop just down from the Chocolate Moose. A second man in a hockey uniform joined him. “Who’s that?” Angela asked.
“Eric Sepulveda, a ski patroller,” Trish said. “Looks like he and Max have teamed up for the race.”
“Can a thirsty volunteer get a drink here?” A petite woman with a short cap of white-blond hair approached the refreshment booths. She was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever who wore a red search-and-rescue vest.
“Casey!” Trish leaned over the table to hug the blonde, then turned to introduce Angela. “You know Casey Overbridge, right? Max’s wife?”
“I’m one of her best customers,” Casey said. She accepted a cup of hot chocolate from Angela.
“Are you and your dog working today?” Angela asked, nodding at the Lab.
“We’re on call,” Casey said. “Though I hope we don’t have to rescue anyone. Mainly Lucy and I are here as publicity for Search and Rescue.” She patted the black Lab, who grinned up at her and wagged her tail.
Casey straightened and looked past Angela. “Bryan!” she called and waved.
“Hey, Casey.”
Angela’s stomach fluttered at the sound of the familiar low voice behind her. Then Bryan was standing beside her, handsome in a blue-and-gray sweater over gray pants and black boots. She smoothed the fake-fur collar of her parka, glad she’d decided on the curve-hugging wool skirt instead of jeans.
“Hello, Angela,” he said, his eyes meeting hers.
“Hi, Bryan.”
“You aren’t racing?” Casey asked.
Bryan shook his head. “The hotel’s hosting the awards ceremony,” he said. “I’m coordinating that.”
“How do you like your new job?” Casey asked.
“It’s good.”
“Do people always dress so strangely for this?” An older man joined them. He, too, wore a sweater over gray pants. A name tag identified him as Carl Phelps, manager of the Elevation Hotel. He stared as a large carton of French fries and a bottle of ketchup skied past.
“This is pretty normal for any kind of Crested Butte celebration,” Bryan said.
“They certainly don’t have anything like this in Michigan,” Carl said, as a man in a flowered housedress over long underwear accepted a cup of coffee from Trish.
“They don’t have anything like this anywhere else,” Bryan said. “It’s one of the things that makes Crested Butte special.”
“Or at least different,” Carl conceded. He turned to Bryan. “Is everything ready for the awards ceremony?”
“It’s all set,” Bryan said.
“I’ll be filming the whole thing for my show.” Zephyr joined them and held up his video camera. “A hundred percent digital and state of the art.”
“Sweet.” Bryan examined the camera. “Where did you get this?”
“Trish gave it to me for Christmas.” Zephyr grinned at his girlfriend, who beamed back. “It pays to hook up with the right woman.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Casey said.
“Too sweet for me,” Angela said. “And I’m a woman who loves sugar.”
“Everything seems to be running smoothly here,” Carl said. He clapped a hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “You and I have business to attend to inside.”
Bryan’s expression clouded, but he quickly assumed an all-business attitude. “Of course.” He nodded to the group. “I’ll see you all at the awards ceremony.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Casey said.
“I’d better get busy, too.” Zephyr shouldered the camera once more. “I’m going to film the uphill and downhill segments of the race.”
“I can’t get used to seeing Bryan with his nose to the grindstone,” Trish said. “Any other year, he’d be out there with Zephyr, clowning around with the racers.”
“Some of us do have to work for a living,” Angela said. For some reason she felt the need to defend Bryan. There were worse things than a guy hanging up his beer steins for gainful employment.
“Yes, everyone has to grow up sometime.” Trish laughed. “Except, of course, Zephyr.”
Angela studied her friend as Trish turned to serve coffee to a couple of tourists. Like Angela, Trish had her own successful business. She was known around town as a smart woman who had everything going for her. People were still scratching their heads over her relationship with the lovable but extremely laid-back Zephyr. Angela figured it had to be true love. Why else would two such different people be drawn together?
“Angela, tell me more about this theater fund-raiser,” Casey said. “I saw some flyers around town.”
“The money will go to license new scripts and pay for new scenery and costumes,” Angela said. “And we’d like to offer a summer program for children.”
“Will you be supplying the chocolate?” Casey asked.
“Of course.”
“Then I am so there,” Casey said.
“Bryan’s helping you put this together, isn’t he?” Trish asked, rejoining the conversation.
“Yes. He’s the liaison at the hotel.”
Trish nodded. “Zephyr mentioned it. Apparently, he’s decided he needs to fix Bryan up with someone. He was asking me last night if I knew any single women who would be a good match for him.”
“As if Bryan needs help meeting women,” Casey said. “He’s good-looking, fun to be with, smart. I’ve seen him around with plenty of cute girls.”
“He never has any problem finding dates,” Trish said. “I’m really not sure what Zephyr was getting at. There are a lot of women around town who’d love to have a nice guy like Bryan—especially now that he has a good job.”
“Employment is a plus,” Casey agreed. She looked around them. “I’m guessing the race has started. I think I’ll get my skis, and Lucy and I will head over toward the finish line.”
“See you at the awards ceremony,” Trish said.
“Guess we can pack up here,” Angela said. She drained the last of the hot chocolate into a cup and began disconnecting the pot to haul back to her store. The discussion of Bryan’s need for a girlfriend—and the plethora of women he had to choose from—had disturbed her. Did anyone think of her as a likely companion for the handsome hotel manager? Or would they laugh if she suggested it?
She’d parked on the other side of the building, so the shortest route to her car was through the hotel. She was passing a row of offices when Bryan appeared in a doorway. “Angela, can I talk to you a minute?” he asked.
“Sure.” She shifted the chocolate pot and a carton of cups to one hip. “What can I do for you?”
“Let me take those.” He relieved her of her burden. “Come in here.” He ushered her into the office. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing to a pair of upholstered chairs.
She sat and he deposited the pot and cups on a credenza and took the chair beside her. “Do you have everything you need for the fund-raiser?” he asked.
“Yes. Marco and I settled on a menu, and the publicity committee has flyers plastered all over town. I understand ticket sales have been good.”
“Good. Would you be interested in a little more publicity?”
“There’s no such thing as too much.” She gave him her warmest smile. “What did you have in mind?”
“Zephyr’s asked us to appear on his show to talk about the fund-raiser.”
“The two of us? Together?” She took a deep breath, trying to quell the nervous fluttering in her chest. She reminded herself Bryan was asking her to help him with a business issue, not for a date.
“Or you could go on the show by yourself, or with someone else from the theater. I realize I’m not really a part of that—”
“No, we should do it together,” she said. “You can talk about the hotel, and I’ll talk about the theater.” And she’d get to spend a little more time with him.
“And chocolate. Zephyr suggested you cook something.”
“Free publicity for my business, too? I can’t wait.”
“Great.” He looked relieved. “Some people think Zephyr is kind of a flake, but under that goofy exterior is a really smart guy. I think his show is turning into a success.”
“I learned a long time ago that you can never judge a person by outward appearances,” she said. “I’ve met shy, milquetoast types who turned out to be fiery actors and blowhards who couldn’t deliver a convincing line to save their lives.”
“I’ve never had a desire to act, but I’ll admit that what I saw the other night was interesting,” Bryan said. “And you’re really talented.”
“Thank you.” She would never get tired of hearing his praise or of seeing that appreciative look in his eyes. “When does Zephyr want to do this show?”
“I’ll have to talk to him and get back to you. Soon, since the fund-raiser’s only two weeks away.”
“Great.” She could sit here all afternoon making small talk with him, but they both had work to do. Besides, one lesson she’d learned in the theater that had served her well in real life was to always leave them wanting more. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she said, standing.
He rose also. “Soon,” he said, his eyes locked to hers.
She started to gather up her boxes, but he stopped her. “I’ll get these for you,” he said.
“Thank you. I hate to keep you from your work.”
He made a face. “It’s nothing that won’t wait.” He leaned close, his voice low. “To tell you the truth, about a third of what I do is either busywork or corporate BS.A lot of paperwork.”
“I suppose every job has boring aspects like that,” she said. “Even working for myself I have to do taxes and stuff.”
“It’s a trade-off, I guess,” he said as they walked to her car. “We do what we have to in order to get what we want.”
And what do you want, Bryan? It was a loaded question, one she didn’t feel she knew him well enough to ask. Besides, if rumors were correct, there would be a picket fence in his future. And given his initial reaction to her—even though he’d warmed considerably since then—she suspected she didn’t fill that role any more than the other leading roles she left to others.
ON A FROSTY but sunny morning in early March, Angela, Bryan, Zephyr and Zephyr’s cameraman—a silent, freckle-faced young guy named Brix—met at the Chocolate Moose to shoot footage for The Z Hour. It was Bryan’s first visit to the shop, though he’d passed it hundreds of times on his way to Max’s snowboard store.
The rich aromas of chocolate and vanilla greeted him as soon as he entered the large front room. A handful of small tables and chairs were arranged in front of a long, glass display case filled with cakes, cookies and candies. Twin coffee and cocoa urns flanked the cash register, and a large moose head, adorned with sunglasses and a lei, looked out over the scene.
“You and Zephyr can put these on,” Angela said. She handed them each aprons.
Bryan unfolded his and studied a cartoon of a grinning moose. “The best things in life are chocolate,” he read.
“I don’t know about that,” Zephyr said, tying on his apron. “What about rock and roll? Or sex? Or beer?”
“In my shop, the best thing in life is chocolate,” she asserted.
Bryan could have argued with that. He liked chocolate well enough, but found the woman before him much more interesting than her candies. Beneath her own apron she wore a red turtleneck sweater, dark jeans and black leather boots with tall heels—clothes that emphasized her curves and height.
“Do you have one of those hat things, too?” Zephyr asked. “A toucan or whatever it’s called?”
“A toque. Here you go.” She handed the two men tall, paper chef’s hats, then donned her own headgear.
“Sweet!” Zephyr admired himself in the mirror, then turned to Brix and gave him a thumbs up. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
While Brix and Zephyr conferred, Bryan sidled over to Angela. He leaned in close enough to smell her vanilla-and-spice perfume. “Do I have this hat on right?” he asked.
“You look great.” Pitched slightly above a whisper, her sultry voice sent heat straight through him.
“Quiet on the set!” Zephyr bellowed, loud enough to make Angela jump. The manic blond grabbed an electric guitar, played a loud fanfare, then grinned at the camera. “Welcome to The Z Hour. I’m Zephyr and every week I bring you the hippest and hottest happenings of Crested Butte and beyond. Today we’re at the Chocolate Moose, visiting with the owner, Angela Krizova. Also joining us is Bryan Perry of the Elevation Hotel at Crested Butte Mountain Resort. The two of them are going to show us how to make chocolate truffles and talk about the fund-raiser they’re coordinating at the Elevation Hotel to benefit the Mountain Theatre community theater group here in C.B. Take it away, Angela.”
He swung around and pointed the neck of the guitar at her. Though Bryan’s stomach was doing backflips at the thought of appearing on camera, Angela was as serene as if she did this every day of the week. Obviously her acting experience helped. She smiled for the camera and said, “Thanks, Zephyr. Today, I’m going to show you how I make my sinfully delicious dark chocolate truffles.”
“What makes them so sinful?” Zephyr asked.
“The chocolate is so rich and sweet and sensuous—” she lowered her voice to an intimate tease “—one bite and I think you’ll agree that anything so good has to be a little bit naughty.”
“What do you think about that, Bryan?” Zephyr asked.
Bryan sucked in a deep breath and tried to look calm. Focusing on Angela instead of the camera helped. “I think Angela wants to lead us astray,” he said.
She smirked. “You men are so easily led.” She moved a bowl to the center of the counter and uncovered it. “Come over here and I’ll show you what to do. First, wash your hands.”
