Warm Winter Love (3 page)

“I…”

“I’m over there by the window, third table to the right. And,” he looked at her uncluttered table, “I noticed you haven’t eaten yet, and neither have I, and I also saw you looking at the mountain. So, if you’re not waiting for anyone…”

“I’m not.”

“Good. I’ll tell the waiter to move you.” He stopped the young man and spoke a few words to him.

“It’s okay,” he said to Katie, “He’ll set another place. No trouble at all.” He held out his hand to her. “Sam Hubbard.”

She shook it. “Katie Jarvis.”

“And how long have you been a Cedar Crest person, Katie Jarvis?”

“Four years. I found this place by accident—read about it in a brochure—and it was love at first sight. And I’ve come back every year since. What about you?”

“Oh, nothing that long or that romantic, I’m afraid. I’m just your average skier who needed a slope in a hurry and this was the closest one according to my travel agent. She promised me lots of snow, good skiing and good food, which were just what I wanted.” He smiled at her again. “But she didn’t promise me great dinner company. That’s a bonus.”

“Uh huh!” She turned her head toward the mountain. “And what do you think of it?”

“It’s not half bad.” He handed the basket of bread and rolls to her. “It’s not half bad at all. I didn’t expect to find skiing this good here.”

She buttered a flatbread. “You’ve never skied around here before?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Out West and in New England, but here in Pennsylvania, no. Maybe I should have come before now.”

The waiter put bowls of soup in front of them.

“Would you like wine?”

“No, I’ll have a glass later. I’m going back out on the slopes after dinner and I want to keep a clear head.” She squinted her eyes. “Night skiing always disorients me a little until I get used to it.”

He handed the wine list back to the waiter. “What do you do, Katie Jarvis? When you’re not skiing, I mean?”

“I teach. English.”

“Chaucer and…?”

“And all the way through F. Scott Fitzgerald. I do the whole gamut.”

“I used to be pretty good in that subject. But that was years ago. What’s that poem—the one that sort of reminds me of this place?”

“Has to be Robert Frost’s ‘Stopping by Woods—”

“—On A Snowy Evening,’ ” he completed the title. “Yep, that’s it.”

“It’s still one of the favorite poems I teach. The kids love it. They connect with it somehow.” She sipped her soup, watching as he broke off a piece of bread and buttered it. She was surprised at how relaxed she felt talking to him—usually she avoided the other skiers except for a ‘hello’ or a few words about the weather. Skiers were normally a friendly bunch but as for talking to them away from the trails or for having dinner with them—well, she never felt quite comfortable doing that.

But if Irene could see her now! Irene always told her that she should make more friends, be more outgoing. “You’re friendly and you’re interesting, Katie. For Heaven’s sake, you’re not going to run off with them. A simple few sentences doesn’t make you a wanton lady, Katie.” Irene laughed at her own joke. “Live a little, Girl, live a little.”

And Jason! What would Jason say? She looked again at Sam. Yes, what would Jason say? What would he say if she told him that she had had dinner with a rather attractive man? And that she enjoyed it? She dipped her spoon into the soup and laughed. Jason would probably ask her what she ate.

“You’re thinking of something funny.” Sam tapped the table. “The food? Do you know something I don’t?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I was just thinking what someone…” She laughed again. “Forget it, Sam. I was just going snow-crazy for a few minutes. First days away from the classroom do that to me.”

He shrugged. “During vacation time you’re allowed to go a little crazy.”

“I really am, aren’t I? Okay, you know that I’m a teacher, but I don’t know what you do.”

He looked at her quickly. “Guess.”

“Twenty questions? This could be fun.”

“I’ll give you five. After that it gets boring.”

“Doesn’t it? Okay, you’re the president of a bank?”

“I was never good at loan applications. One down, four to go.” He moved the salt shaker to the side of the table, and she narrowed her eyes at him, trying to envision him in clothes other than the cream-colored sweater and gray slacks he was now wearing.

“You’re an artist.”

“No. I sketch a little in my spare time, but nothing serious. Three more.” He held up three fingers and then moved the pepper mill next to the salt shaker.

“Computers. You work in computers?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. Close. Partly. Go on—what do I do in computers?” His hand toyed with the bud vase.

“I don’t know what to say.” She gritted her teeth. “You think up new programs?”

He moved the flowers to the side. “Two more to go. But I’ll give you half-credit for computers.”

She cocked her head to one side. “You sell them.”

He returned everything to the middle of the table. “Okay, that’s close enough. Remind me I owe you a glass of wine.”

“You sell them?”

“The parts, the components. I devise plans for companies.”

“Where?”

“All over.” He leaned back against his chair. “All over the world.”

“You do a lot of traveling?” Katie’s voice was low.

“Twenty-five days or more a month.” He looked out the window at the snow. “That’s why I need something like this every so often. I have to relax. This does it for me.” He looked at Katie. “Wherever I am, when I get that ‘everything is going haywire’ feeling, I just stop, find a place to ski or swim or lie on a beach or whatever, and just relax. Traveling can get to you after a while.”

She thought of her father. “I know.” She pushed back her soup bowl. “And now, Sam Hubbard, I’m going back outside.” She held out her hand to him and inclined her head toward the window. “Thanks for sharing your view with me.”

He half rose. “And thanks for having dinner with me. Maybe I’ll see you around… or up.” He pointed to the mountaintop. “Maybe later.” He took her hand and shook it, and she immediately liked the way he grasped it—strong, meaningful, as though he really meant what he said.

“Yes, maybe. Thanks again.” She pushed back her chair. “Good-bye, Sam.”

“For now, at least.”

As he smiled at her once more, she knew that she would meet him again before her vacation was over. It was something she just knew.

Chapter Three

She was one of the first skiers on the slopes the next morning and it was exactly the way she liked it—calm winds, bright sunshine, brittle cold, the kind of weather that ski resorts hope for but rarely get. She loved it when it was like this. When there weren’t many people around and when she could feel that she belonged on the mountain. Belonged where no one could intrude on her thoughts or even talk to her. Sometimes when she overslept and got to the slopes there were long lines of eager, noisy people waiting for the lifts. But today had to be her lucky day—she had gotten to the top of the mountain without any waiting.

She stood at the edge of the run, listening to the wind, letting the mini-snow showers swirl around her and she blew into the air so that she could see her breath vaporize in front of her. Yes, this was her kind of day. She slapped her hands together and then reached for her poles, ready to shove off.

“Hey, snowbird!”

She turned at the sound of the voice, recognizing the tone and the teasing. “You’re up early too!” she said.

Sam was bent over, adjusting the straps on a boot. “Wait until you go down once. It’s nearly perfect.”

“What time did you get here?” She looked up at the sun. “I thought I’d be one of the first.”

“You were,” he said, and then laughed. “Only I was the first.” He moved closer to her. “You know, Katie, I once vowed that I would be number one in something. And this is it.” He gave a deep laugh that seemed to enfold her too. He was outrageous. She had never met anyone quite like him, anyone who could laugh and tease so easily. Was he ever serious?

“Go on,” he said motioning her into position. “I’ll go down after you. I want to see how you take some of those curves.” He bent down and scooped up some soft snow. “It must have snowed a little last night—all fresh, hardly any tracks in it. Go on. I’ll see you at the bottom.”

He was right. The topping of fresh snow gave the trail a better edge, and she kept her eyes straight in front of her, watching as she broke new lines on the surface. This was it, this was close to the feeling that she wanted to experience—a feeling she had waited for. She had always heard surfers talk about the quest for a perfect wave. Well, this was her almost-perfect snow wave. Someday she would find the perfect run, and then… And then what? Surely it couldn’t be any better than this. She glanced up quickly as she shot past a small pine tree, noticing how the branches swayed rhythmically toward, and then away from, her as her movements stirred the wind. She passed close to another tree and this time she felt the snow on her face as it fell from the small limbs in the wake of her passing. Yes, Katie, she thought, this is your time.

“Well, what did you think?” Sam was leaning against a fence. “Worth the trouble of getting up early?”

“Absolutely.”

“Another try?”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Yes.”

They made four runs that morning and when there were too many people ahead of them they took off their skis and headed for the coffee shop. She couldn’t remember having had so much fun at Cedar Crest. Too bad Jason wasn’t here. He would probably enjoy it even if he only sat in the lounge the whole time and just watched the scenery.

“Hey, Katie-Katie,” Sam said and she smiled at her new name. “What say we go tackle Devil’s Mist next?” He pointed to the mountain a few miles away and she shook her head.

“No way, thank you. I have a healthy respect for that slope.”

“I’ve been down it,” he said. “Yesterday morning. It’s not that bad.” He looked at her in surprise. “I thought you said you’ve been here before.”

“I have, but I just never have gone down Devil’s Mist.”

He stirred his coffee. “How come?”

She shrugged. “No real reason,” she lied, not wanting to confess to her fear. “I just never had the chance. I was always enamored of old Magic Mountain.”

Sam grinned again. “Well, let’s take it now.” He indicated her skis against the wall. “Grab them, and we’ll take the van over and give it a try.”

She shook her head again and tried to make it sound as casual as possible. “Uh-uh, Sam. Not today,” she said, and the way she said it made him look at her curiously and then drop the topic. She took a deep breath. What could she possibly tell him, a perfect stranger? That a mountain defeated her? That Devil’s Mist scared her? That she was afraid of it? No—better to say nothing. After all, she wouldn’t see him again after this week so why confess something so personal to someone she just met. She had never even told Jason.

“Okay,” he said, “if that’s out, how about some of the cross-country trails around here? Those I haven’t been on—partly because they’re so lonely and I’m hardly ever in a lonely mood on vacations. I have enough of it on my job.” He raised his hand slightly. “How about it? Are you game?” He smiled, and she saw that there was a gap between his front teeth. Small and hardly noticeable, it somehow made him seem so appealing… so trustworthy.

Katie nodded. “Sure. There’s a trail across a field about four miles away and if we’re lucky, no one else will have gotten to it yet.” She picked up her gloves and cell phone. “Give me a few minutes to make some calls.” She looked at her watch. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in about twenty minutes. Okay?”

He was waiting for her and when he saw her from across the room he smiled making her feel as though she were the one person in the world he definitely wanted to be with at that moment. She was flattered. Sam was good-looking in an interesting way. Not really good-looking as if he belonged in the movies or on TV. Not even as handsome as Jason. Just good-looking as if he would be presentable if you took him home to your mother. Katie looked him up and down and frowned. Well, maybe her mother wouldn’t approve. Sam was a bit flamboyant in his ways and that might be a bit much for her. Her mother liked her men quiet and dignified and Sam was definitely not that type. He was too easy-going, too happy-go-lucky and too full of life. He was a bit like her father. The laugh and the easy manner—that was it. Just like her father as she remembered him from when she was a little girl… from long before her parents’ divorce.

She tossed her head as though she were removing the childhood memories from her mind. That was then and this was now and Sam wasn’t her father and he wasn’t her Jason. Sam was just another man who would go on his way come Sunday. Just another pleasant memory.

She watched as he made his way toward her and she knew she was smiling. Yes, it was nice to have someone like Sam Hubbard to talk to at Cedar Crest. He was making the vacation more fun. Maybe she might even tell Irene about meeting him.

~