These Boots Weren't Made for Walking (22 page)

y marketing plan is a hit! Ross is totally jazzed as he tells me Monday afternoon to begin implementing it immediately. He wants to pull out all the stops. “This could be Black Bear Butte's best year ever,” he says as he looks over my presentation again. Then he nods to the big window. Outside the blanket of white grows deeper by the minute. “And if this keeps up, we'll be open
before
Thanksgiving.”

“Then I'd better get busy,” I say. “I've got a lot to do, lots of phone calls to make.”

“Go for it.”

“And I'll need to go to the city to set up some things with the designers.”

“As I said, go for it.”

I smile at him. “This is so fun.”

He laughs. “That's what I like—a woman who enjoys her work.”

I do enjoy myself as I make phone calls and set things up. It's fun having this kind of control—almost like my old lemonade stand—and as I pull things together and get all the pieces in place,
I think maybe this is what I was meant to do. Maybe I've finally found my niche in life.

The snow continues, and by the time I leave for the city Wednesday morning, the mountain has accumulated thirty-one inches of new snow. I feel exhilarated even as I drive through the dismal rain, knowing that rain down here means snow up there. My enthusiasm seems to be contagious as I meet with the graphic designers and ad people. At first they were shaking their heads and telling me it couldn't be done, but after a few more phone calls (and some silent prayers on my part), it begins to look like my marketing campaign might actually launch by the first week of December.

“You guys started this pretty late,” says my favorite designer as he adjusts his calendar to schedule our project.

“I suppose it's late for this year,” I admit. “But it's early for next year.

He chuckles. “You've always been one of those glass-half-full kind of girls, haven't you, Cassidy?”

“Don't I wish. Trust me, I've had my negative moments. Not that long ago either.”

Somehow we work out the details and scheduling challenges, and I finish up my appointments around four. As I'm getting ready to head out of town, I decide to swing by my old apartment. I'm not even sure why. Maybe it's for old times’ sake. Or maybe I'm curious as to how things have gone with Will. As I turn down the street, I wonder if that job he got made it possible for him to stay
in my apartment. Or has he moved on? I'm surprised to feel a little sad that he never returned my call, and I second-guess my spontaneity. In the end, I don't really plan on stopping, but when I spot an empty space right in front, something that rarely happened when I lived there, I decide its an opportunity. I park my old Su-baru and get out. The rain has let up, but its still overcast and gloomy. A wet day in the city used to depress me, but I remind myself again of the snow on the mountain. I'll bet another ten inches fell today.

As I go up the stairs, I start to feel irrationally nervous. What am I doing here? And do I really plan on knocking on my old apartment door? This is crazy. As I think back, my whole experience with Will was pretty odd. I mean, the short time we spent together was so strange and surreal. What was it—two days? three? And yet I felt so close to him then. Its like we connected. How weird is that?

I pause at the top of the stairs, rationalizing that what happened then was simply the result of two desperate people thrown together by another persons greed. Monica had hurt us both. We were vulnerable. We were brokenhearted, down on our luck, kicked in the teeth by life, and looking for a morsel of sympathy wherever we could find it. Why not just let it go? My life has moved on. Why come back here and wallow in old memories?

I stand on the landing and stare at the door of Monica's old apartment and wonder what has become of her. Is it possible that she's returned? What jf she and Will are back together? Maybe even
living in my old apartment, yukking it up about how they pulled one over on me. This thought makes me feel sick, and I realize its nuts for me to be here. I'll go back downstairs, get in my car, and pretend I didn't stop by. What if I actually saw Monica Johnson right now? Who knows what I might do? I'm sure it wouldn't be pretty.

“He's not here,” says a gruff voice from the hallway behind me.

I turn to see old Mr. Snyder leaning on a push broom and looking just the same as ever in his old, yellowed T-shirt topped with an unbuttoned, faded, plaid flannel shirt, tails hanging out. I wonder how long he's been standing there watching me. For whatever reason, I feel embarrassed.

“Oh, hello,” I tell him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean if you're looking for Will Sorensen, he's not here.”

“Did he move out?”

“No, I mean he's not here ‘cause he's at work.”

“And where would that be?”

“He's a cook over at that Italian restaurant—that Terrazio place.”

“Do you mean Terrazzo de Giordano?” I ask in surprise.

“That sounds about right. It's that fancy-schmancy place over on First Avenue.” He rolls his
eyes.
“Little too rich for my blood, but at least it pays the rent.”

“That's great.” I feel an unexpected thrill of happiness for Will. That's quite a place. Good for him.

“Ya want me to tell Will you stopped by?”

“Sure,” I say. “Tell him hello for me.”

He seems to study me, softening just a little. “And you're doing okay too?”

“Yes.” I smile at him. “I'm still living at home with my mom in Black Bear. But I got a good job, and things are looking up.”

He nods, then returns to his sweeping.

Although it makes no sense, I decide to take First Avenue on my way out of town, slowly cruising by Terrazzo de Giordano. I've eaten there only once, but it's an impressive restaurant, both on the outside and within. I try to imagine Will working in the kitchen there, and I hope he's happy. I hope his life has really turned around. I'm tempted to stop in and say hello, maybe even order something light on the menu. But for some reason I can't. Even so, I think about Will as I drive away. I remember that dinner he made for us and that amazing evening we spent together. It still seems surreal— sweedy yet disturbingly weird. And something that's best forgotten.

To distract myself from these unsettling thoughts of Will, I decide to stop at the mall. I've been so good about not spending money since returning to Black Bear that I think maybe I'm due for a few new things. Also, thanks to losing some weight, I could use a smaller pair of jeans and maybe some winter clothes for my job at the resort. I realize this will mean using my credit cards, which I've paid down some, but I also know that I'll have a paycheck at the end of the month that should cover this expense. Plus,
I remind myself, my image as the director of marketing at Black Bear Butte is important. In a way, any wardrobe improvements should be considered a work expense.

By the time I'm done shopping and loading my bags into the car, I've decided that living in Black Bear might be a real blessing to my pocketbook. Especially if I avoid any unnecessary trips to the city and particularly to the mall. Still, I found some good sales, and I tried to shop sensibly. I avoided the overpriced designers like Armani and Gucci in favor of Liz Claiborne, Ralph Lauren, and DKNY. Even so, it all adds up. I don't even want to think about what it actually adds up to, but I know I'll get statements by the end of the month. But I'll look stylish in my new job. And my jeans will fit. Also, I got a couple of really great coats that are perfect for the ski resort. One I can even use for skling—a navy-blue North Face parka—and it came with some slimming ski pants that match. All in all, I think I made the right choices.

I will start saving for my own apartment as soon as my bills are paid off.

Life at home isn't intolerable, and it does save me money to stay there. In the following weeks, Mom and I are both busy with work and life, and we seem to call a truce. Not that we were fighting exacdy. But there has definitely been some tension in the air, especially when I do something with Ross, which is fairly often. To be
fair, I probably get a little uptight when I see that she's still going out with Todd. Not that I want a chance with Todd. I've decided the poor boy probably has an Oedipus complex, which I find rather pathetic. But the idea of my mom being a cougar still doesn't sit well with me.

At least life at work goes fairly well. My marketing plan hits a few snags, but I just consider these challenges as opportunities to prove myself. When I work hard enough, I usually find a way around problems that often turns out for the best. All in all, I think I'm seriously on track. And that feels pretty good.

We have a big celebration at the lodge just two days before Thanksgiving because the resort is officially open. We're not especially crowded, but that's the way Ross likes it, for the first couple of days anyway. It gives the employees time to get up to speed. By this weekend, the place should be running like “a well-oiled machine,” or so Ross assures us all as we lift glasses of champagne at the end of a busy day.

“Fifty-one inches of snow is a record for us this time of year,” he tells everyone. “I think it's a good omen for the season. Mother Nature is being kind to us.” Then he winks at me. “Of course, I've also heard that certain people have been talking to the big guy upstairs about the snowfall as well. I guess we should give credit where credit is due.” He talks a bit more about projections for the season and how there will be bonuses for everyone if things go as planned. The general spirit of this crowd is upbeat and optimistic. I just hope that it will continue throughout the season.

“Is Nathan coming home for Thanksgiving?” I ask Ross as I pull on my coat at the end of the day.

He frowns and shakes his head. “They're in the midst of some special training right now. I won't get to see him until Christmas.”

“Do you have plans for the holiday?”

“To be honest, I've been so obsessed with the mountain that I haven't really given it much thought.”

Well, I know the lodge is closed for Thanksgiving Day, and the idea of this sweet guy sitting at home by himself is just too sad. So without really considering the ramifications, I invite him to come to our litde family get-together. I actually expect him to decline.

But his eyes light up. “Hey, that sounds great. What time?”

I give him the details, hoping that Mom won't be upset. “It's just my sisters and Callie's family,” I explain. “No big deal.”

“Sounds good to me.”

To my relief, Mom is perfectly fine with this. “Of course you should've invited Ross, Cassie. No one should spend the holiday alone.” As it turns out, she's already invited Todd too.

By Wednesday afternoon, Callie and Andrew and the twins have arrived. With Jack and Joe running around like wild things, Mom's house suddenly seems to have shrunk in half. Later that night Cammie arrives with a nice-looking young man in tow! She introduces us to Clay Hartford, a young intern who graduated from med school two years ago. Then she shyly holds out her left hand to show us a small diamond ring, and we all let out the appropriate squeals and congratulations. Cammie informs us that
a small Christmas wedding is in order and that she and Clay still plan to head off to Uganda following her graduation.

It's so good to be with my sisters again, but I'm disappointed that Cammie is a bit preoccupied with her beau. Of course Callie is distracted by the rambunctious twins, who seem to suffer from some undiagnosed hyperactivity disorder. So my time with them seems rather secondary. However, we all gather to help Mom in the kitchen the next day. Meanwhile Andrew and Clay ride herd on the twins and try to watch a little football.

“I can't believe how great you look, Mom,” says Cammie for like the hundredth time. “It's so amazing.”

“Don't you think she could pass for forty?” says Callie.

“You girls,” says Mom, but I can tell she loves it. Then she looks at me. “Doesn't Cassie look great too?”

Cammie and Callie look over at me and nod and smile, but I can tell they're not impressed. However, they didn't see me a month ago. They don't realize how far downhill I'd gone.

“Cassie is dating Ross Goldberg,” continues Mom.