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Edith and her husband had built their five-thousand square foot home nearly two decades ago, but Edith had only added the atrium after her husband of forty-two years had passed away.
Hannah took a moment to admire the atrium’s inviting niches. The bluish-green light glowing through the fat panes of tinted glass. The mosaic tile floor sparkled in muted pastel colors, a perfect setting for the wrought iron garden furniture. The space was a work of art inside and out, and it soothed her soul to spend time there.
She stopped in front of a recessed control panel, checking to make sure the temperature and humidity readings were correct.
The storage room contained an electronic lock with a keypad. She tapped in the combination and went inside. After scooping out pellets for the koi she crossed to the far side of the room, smiling as she approached the large pond taking up roughly half the space. The pond’s surface was smooth and peaceful, broken only by the gurgle from the fountain in the center. But as she walked closer, the swirl and soft splash of water let her know the koi were aware of her presence.
Enjoying the flashes of orange, white, silver, black and red gliding through the water, she began tossing in the pellets one handful at a time. She called the fish by name, commenting on the beauty of their markings or how gracefully they could swim.
As she silently practiced the spiel she planned to pitch later that day at her meeting, she looked up to notice a gorgeous tropical flower blooming. One she’d never seen before. That’s when movement from the other side of the pond gave her a start. A flash of black hair followed by a pair of dark eyes peeking out from behind a ficus tree told her a child was hiding there. Relaxing, she realized Edith’s renters must have a child.
“Hello, there,” she called out.
No answer.
“Would you like to come over here and meet these guys?”
She heard a rustling sound before a small black-haired child sprinted toward the house. The door made a swooshing sound as it opened and then closed again. Poor kid, she thought, must be shy.
She looked at the time on her phone. Too bad she couldn’t stick around and introduce herself. She needed to get to work. As project manager of Snowy Sky Resort, it would probably be bad form for her to be late for her first meeting with the ski-area consultant the board of directors had hired.
* * *
TATE STUDIED THE figures in front of him, satisfied with the projections for the profits from the latest snowboard bindings he’d designed and patented. The Zee Tap had been on the market for only two years, but it was already fast approaching status as the year’s top-selling binding in the world. Even though Tate knew he was doing well, something compelled him to keep continual tabs on his finances. He knew that “something” was undoubtedly his own poverty-ridden childhood.
Since retiring from his professional snowboarding career, he was aware that he only had a limited amount of time to capitalize on his past success. That’s why he’d diversified and taken on consulting jobs like this one at Snowy Sky Resort. Although accepting this particular job happened to be motivated by much more than business.
“Uncle Tate!” Lucas ran up to him nearly out of breath, his eyes wide with excitement.
“Slow down, buddy. What’s the matter?”
“There’s a fairy woman in the fish room.”
“A fairy...what?”
“A fairy woman. She’s in the fish room.”
Tate smiled. Lucas had taken to calling the atrium the fish room. He loved to hang out in there. At first Tate had been concerned because of the water feature, but after a few days he felt certain that Lucas wasn’t going to get in the pond with the fish and if he did somehow fall in, Tate was confident he could climb out.
Even so, he had been thrilled to learn Rankins had a community center with a pool. He’d already enrolled Lucas in swim lessons. He wondered if it was normal to worry and fret about most everything where a child was concerned.
“Come and look at her.”
Tate stood and moved from behind the desk in the spacious room the owner of the house had graciously cleared for his use as an office. She’d left the antique books in the floor-to-ceiling shelves that took up one entire wall and he was glad. It lent the room a cozy feel.
“Okay, but what makes her a fairy exactly? Does she have wings?” Tate assumed Lucas was referring to the woman caring for the atrium in the homeowner’s absence. He’d been relieved when he had learned that he wouldn’t have to look after it. There were plants in there he was certain his brown thumb could wilt without ever touching, not to mention the goldfish.
Lucas explained patiently as he led the way. “No, Uncle Tate, fairies don’t let humans see their wings. Only other fairies can see their wings.”
“I see. So...is she wearing a certain dress or playing the flute or something? Is that how you know she’s a fairy?”
“She talks to the fish.”
“Fairies talk to fish? Do they talk back?”
Lucas had picked up his pace and kept glancing back as if he wasn’t moving quite fast enough. Tate walked faster.
“No, this fairy talks to the fish. I’m not sure if they talk back because I don’t speak fish.”
Tate felt a mixture of affection and amused confusion.
But when they entered the atrium they found it empty of both humans and fairies.
“Oh, no...” Lucas’s face fell as his eyes darted around the warm, bright space. His voice was filled with such abject disappointment it tugged at Tate’s heartstrings. “She’s gone.”
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_75ceee1f-d814-5320-8e29-fd3382e96d60)
HANNAH SLIPPED ON her snow boots and wrapped the soft, teal-colored mohair scarf around her neck. She arranged the matching hat on her head and silently thanked her cousin Janie who had knitted the set.
Lift number two had become fully operational today and she was going to check it out before her meeting. She wanted everything to be perfect for Tate Addison. As not only project manager of Snowy Sky but founder and shareholder as well, she was used to doing things her way. She relished the freedom she’d had thus far in seeing her vision becoming a reality.
Hannah was fine with getting a “second opinion,” and yet, having the resort—her hard work, her dream, her baby, her second chance at achieving success—evaluated in this manner? Well, it was bound to be a little nerve-racking for anyone.
Hoisting a hip onto one of the many railings gracing the lodge’s massive front steps, she slid down to the frozen ground and then headed for her snow machine. She couldn’t help the welling of pride as she took in the tall T-shaped metal poles marching up the hillside. Snowy Sky wouldn’t be officially opening until next year, but enough had been accomplished that it was already looking like a real ski resort.
Tate Addison had recently retired from the sport of snowboarding with one of the longest and most successful careers of all time, and although he was several years older than her, she had seen him compete when she’d been on the professional skiing circuit.
She squelched a ping of jealousy; thinking of her own career cut short so cruelly still filled her with a painful longing, a yearning for the medals and accolades she’d been so close to achieving.
Jeez, Hannah, she told herself, bitter much? Mourning the past was most definitely not a part of the “postaccident healing plan” she and her sports therapist, Dr. Voss, had developed and that she had executed over the past few years.
Hers and Tate’s different backgrounds and experiences shouldn’t matter, though. When he looked at the big picture, as he’d been hired to do, everything would be fine. All she really needed to do was collect his stamp of approval. She would answer every one of his questions thoroughly and eloquently. Then, at the board meeting next week, he would inform them of what a great job she was doing, collect his fee and be gone.
Simple.
Hannah headed toward lift two and found Freddie there waiting for her in the control booth as she’d asked. Freddie was a hometown boy, an avid skier and one of the first employees she had hired.
“Freddie, I’m going to ride around one time to check things out and then on the second go-around I’ll radio you when to stop the lift, okay?”
“Awesome. Have fun. Um, I hate to bring this up right now because I know you’ve got this important meeting and all. But Park was in the rental shop this morning snooping around and telling me how to arrange everything. What’s up with that?”
She felt a surge of annoyance. Park Lowell was a shareholder, board member, snowboarder and all-around pain in Hannah’s neck. He also coveted her job and everyone knew it.
“Trying to impress Tate Addison, no doubt. I’ll talk to him.” And remind him who the project manager is, she added silently.
“I didn’t listen to him anyway. Just thought you’d want to know.”
“Definitely. I’m always interested in what Park is up to, especially where Snowy Sky is concerned.”
Freddie nodded. “Amen to that.”
* * *
TATE ARRIVED NEARLY two hours early for his meeting, wanting to inspect the resort’s progress thus far without any biased commentary from the project manager. He’d been using a snow machine Park Lowell had set him up with to scout things out when he noticed that one of the chairlifts was operating. He watched the lift smoothly glide along for a few minutes, admiring the triple-fixed grip chair units before he realized someone was riding on one of them.
Hmm, good timing, workers must be performing some maintenance or running a test. Nice to see construction appeared to be right on schedule or perhaps even a bit ahead of projections, an incredible feat for a project of this magnitude.
Suddenly the lift slowed and then halted completely. Movement caught his eye as the rider then slipped from the chair and sailed downward through the air. He felt his stomach fall right along with the rider, followed quickly by a genuine burst of fear when the person hit the ground and disappeared beneath the deep snow, a puff of powder drifting up to form a white cloud.
Tate hurriedly throttled up the snow machine and sped in that direction. A fall like that could be disastrous—deadly even. His heart hammered loudly in his head as possibilities surfaced, each one more gruesome than the last. He forced himself to focus on what he needed to do. Stopping the machine as he neared the location, he hopped off and moved quickly toward the spot. When he got close he dropped to the ground and crawled toward the indentation.
Calmly, but loudly he called out, “Hey, buddy, are you okay? Can you hear me? Say something if you can hear me?”
* * *
HANNAH’S BLISSFUL MOMENT was abruptly interrupted by a deep voice shouting at her. Was she okay? Of course she was okay. She had assumed the sound of the snow machine was Freddie coming to fetch her even though she’d asked him to wait for her call. But this wasn’t Freddie’s voice.
She opened her eyes and found herself face-to-face with a handsome and concerned-looking Tate Addison. She groaned. What terrible timing.
“Where does it hurt?”
Why was he shouting? “Nothing hurts,” she said flatly. He was going to think she was crazy. This was also a tad embarrassing. How could she explain?
She tried to distract him instead. “I’m fine. How are you?”
“Miss, are you okay?” Voice even louder now as he enunciated very slowly, “Did you hit your head?”
Sitting up, she dusted snow from the front of her coat. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“I saw you fall.” He pointed up.
“I didn’t fall. I jumped.”
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s fun?” Hannah posed the question-answer with a sheepish grin.
It was true that she didn’t want the guy anywhere near her resort, but it was also true, she admitted, that it was cute how his mouth dipped down at the corners along with his brows.
She knew he was nice looking, but she hadn’t expected him to be so...
Stern, she finished the thought as he went on in a very serious tenor, “It’s fun to fall twenty feet into a pile of snow? That’s dangerous. Are you aware of what could happen if you got stuck or how about landing on something—a rock or a branch? Did you think of that? And what if you landed wrong and broke your neck, or worse?”
Hannah wasn’t sure what to make of his anxious tone. She supposed witnessing the “fall” had made him nervous, but she certainly wouldn’t have done it if she’d known he was here. Besides, he wasn’t supposed to be here for at least another hour or two, and why was he nosing around on his own?
In an attempt to reassure him, she said, “Twenty feet is a bit of an overstatement. And I wouldn’t do it any old time. I’m aware of the conditions. There are no rocks here, there’s a deep enough base, plenty of fresh powder. And you fall backwards—like this, so that when you land...” Leaning her body back to demonstrate, she caught a glimpse of his disapproving expression. Suddenly she felt like a teenager defending herself to a stodgy grown-up.
He shook his head, a look of incredulity stamped on his face. “I don’t understand why you would knowingly take such a risk. I mean, what are you...?”
She kind of wanted to tell him to lighten up, but knew it would behoove her to make a good impression on him. The more he liked her and Snowy Sky, the less change he would recommend and the sooner she could get back to normal.
Untying her hood, she pushed it back from her face, turned on a bright smile and stuck out a snow-covered glove. “Mr. Addison, it’s nice to meet you—even in this rather, um, unconventional manner. But how’s this for some great snow?”
What looked like a mix of skepticism and disbelief furrowed his brow. “What? Who...are you?”
“I’m Hannah James, project manager here at Snowy Sky.”
* * *
TATE STARED INTO the pretty golden-brown eyes of the woman in front of him and felt a stir of something—no, a mix of so many things.
She was project manager? He knew the project manager was a woman named Hannah James and that she was a former professional skier. But he didn’t know her. He’d thought the name sounded vaguely familiar, but he’d been expecting someone older. And much less...attractive.
She tucked a thick brown braid into the back of her jacket. Smooth, honey-toned skin made it impossible to tell her age.
He found himself blurting, “How old are you?” And immediately wished he could take the question back.
“Excuse me?”
Why had he asked that? Back in his early snowboarding days he’d hated when people had asked him that very question, which they’d done a lot because he had been young and talented and often competing against guys much older and twice or three times his size. He had never thought his age was relevant and now here he was asking the question of someone else.
“Sorry. So, uh, you’re the project manager? Hannah James?”
“Yes. I am. Hannah James.”
He noticed the tightness in her jaw and thought, uh-oh. He hadn’t meant to offend her, and he knew very well this process would go a lot smoother if he could make friends with her, convince her the resort would benefit from his recommendations.
Attempting to reduce the tense moment with honesty and a touch of remorse, he winced. “Oh, man... Ms. James, I’m so sorry. I may not have had the most traditional upbringing, but I do know better than to ask a woman her age.”
He added his own sheepish grin. “You, however, look very young and I was surprised. I am taken aback and embarrassed by my behavior. Can we start over?”
* * *
SURELY HE WASN’T implying she was too young for this job? And why in the world would he think that, Hannah? After he just witnessed you jumping off the chairlift like some kind of reckless teenager?
But she couldn’t help it.
Since the accident she found herself constantly looking for ways to remind herself she was alive, that there were still thrills to be had even if she could no longer race. Dr. Voss said it was harmless, therapeutic even, as long as her forays didn’t get too dangerous. Thus, she was only into “safe” danger. Although that might be difficult to convince Tate Addison of given the current circumstances.
Flashing her best carefree grin, she said, “Of course, Mr. Addison, you’re forgiven. Call me Hannah. And please, forgive me, too. This probably looks really strange, but we all need a little fun sometimes, right? And I can assure you I am both old enough for this job and qualified for the position.”
He looked relieved to be let off the hook.
“Great. Okay, I’m Tate.” He placed a hand on his chest. “And clearly you are both of those things.”
She brushed off his words with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Let’s get your tour started, shall we?”
She pulled off her gloves and removed her hat from inside of her jacket where she’d stashed it before she jumped from the lift. She arranged the hat on her head, tucking some stray strands beneath its softness. Finally she replaced her gloves and glanced up in time to catch his assessing stare; she didn’t even want to imagine what he was thinking.
