Stacy Barclay turned down the tree-lined drive and her eyes went wide. This was either a winter wonderland or the scene of some horror movie. She stopped the car and turned to Kylie in the passenger seat.
“When you suggested out of the way, I didn’t think you meant…” She waved a hand at the snowy forest that seemed to have swallowed them up as soon as she’d pulled off the main road.
Brit leaned forward from the backseat. “I think it’s kinda cool,” she said. “I’ve been checking out their website. This place is gonna rock.”
She held her iPad so it was visible from the driver’s seat. Stacy rolled her eyes. She’d seen the pictures when Kylie made the reservations. Sure, the place looked amazing and supposedly had just been renovated, but she knew from experience things weren’t always what they appeared. Too many places posted images that were heavily processed and taken from some magic angle to make the spaces seem bigger.
“You said you needed a break from it all,” Kylie replied from the passenger seat. “We all wanted skiing, but not someplace with the usual ski crowd. Plus, this is only a few hours from the city—perfect for a long weekend. Besides, no matter how bad it is, I guarantee we’ve been in worse. So, drive.”
Stacy blew out a breath and rolled forward. Kylie was right. They had stayed in some pretty scary places. The three of them had been best friends since childhood and traveling together since their first trip without adults when they’d all turned sixteen.
Kylie was the queen of all things tech and had a gift for finding cool places no one had ever heard of before. They always had a great time, or at least a great adventure with wild stories to share after—like their post-high-school-graduation trip to San Felipe, Mexico that had included lost luggage, a bout of food poisoning and almost getting mugged, only to be rescued by a trio of handsome young men from Guatemala.
“How the hell did you snag reservations with only a two-week notice?” No matter how much she trusted Kylie, Stacy wasn’t ready to let it go. It was the last month of a busy year, and she had thought this trip would be a celebration. She’d wanted to share it with her best friends someplace quiet.
Except she’d learned this morning she hadn’t gotten the promotion she’d put in for and deserved. What was worse, the guy who did had a less impressive portfolio and less experience. He was, however, a man and his father played golf with the Vice President of Operations. Fucking old boys’ network.
“Would you relax.” Brit’s voice had that big-sister vibe she could sometimes get. “It’s time to forget work for a while.”
Stacy loosened her grip on the wheel. Brit was right. This may not be the celebratory trip she’d planned on, but it was still just the three of them enjoying some much-needed downtime.
“The directions say to follow the road around and take the right fork up to the house,” Kylie said, as Stacy approached a bend in the long drive. “Park in the gravel lot to the side.”
The trees opened up, and Stacy caught a glimpse of snow-covered cabins and a huge outdoor pavilion before finally focusing on the gorgeous Victorian house at the top of the hill.
“Anyone else getting summer camp vibes?” Brit said. “This has a sort of vintage feel—like Dirty Dancing.”
Kylie laughed. “Except that was in summer. And why do we still talk about that movie? It’s ancient.”
She was right. The movie was more her mother’s era. Yet, they’d all watched it countless times to the point where Stacy could probably still quote the entire thing.
“Is this place gonna be like totally empty or something?” Brit craned around as she gazed out the windows. “I mean, Stacy’s right. You booked on Thanksgiving, and they had an open weekend two weeks later?”
Kylie still hadn’t answered the question, and Stacy was starting to get nervous when she pulled up to the house and found several vehicles already parked. Kylie hopped out before their car had come to a complete stop.
“Ye of little faith.” She pointed down the hill to the line of cabins. Every one of them had skis standing on their porches and cars parked along their sides.
“Hi! You must be Kylie, Stacy and Brit.” The warm, rich baritone carried in the chilly air and all three women turned toward the main house. Kylie sucked in an audible breath while Brit made some squeaking noise. Stacy mentally checked that her mouth was closed.
The man was big and broad-shouldered, and everything you pictured if someone said to combine a sexy lumberjack with a splash of old-school hipster then make him hugely tall. He came down from the porch as she popped the trunk. In the blink of an eye, he had the three of them and all their bags inside the big house.
“I’m Nate Stewart,” he said as they shook hands and made introductions. “I’ll turn you over to my wife, Cat. She’ll give you the tour and get you to your rooms. Someone’ll bring your bags up.”
If Nate Stewart was a giant, his wife was the opposite—a petite redhead wearing jeans and a turtleneck, but everything about her screamed class and money. Except there wasn’t a trace of snobbery in her warm welcome and pleasant chatter as they went through a hall and into a large sunroom then on to the rest of the house.
“The rooms all have coffee pots, microwaves and mini fridges,” Cat said. “There’s a small kitchen downstairs that guests can use, and we do three meals a day. There’s a handful of restaurants in town, but it’s all pickup this time of year and most close early.”
They climbed a flight of stairs, and Cat explained there was a small elevator, but it was out of the way. She turned down a short hall.
“You lucked out a bit,” she said. “We had a cancellation, and we were able to get you into three adjacent rooms. The original design was meant to accommodate families, so the majority of the rooms have connecting doors. These days, most folks choose cabins.”
Well, that answers the question about short notice reservations.
Cat stopped at the end of the hall. Everything about the place felt like you were in someone’s very-well-decorated home and not a hotel or lodge. Colorful runners covered the hardwood floors and there was not a sign of ugly wallpaper anywhere. Simple holiday decorations graced the stairwell, making things feel festive, but not in your face. It was warm and welcoming and very personal and looked even better than the pictures online.
Cat handed over three keycards. “Will you be eating dinner here?”
Kylie and Brit glanced at Stacy. After a long drive, she had no desire to try to figure out food.
“Yes, please,” Stacy said. “That would be terrific.”
Cat pulled out her phone and tapped a few times, then pocketed it. “We do dinner in the dining room—downstairs and to the right. All the info for meals, snow tubing, skiing and everything is in the binder in your rooms, and the phone list is there as well as instructions for downloading the app for keyless entry. If you need anything or have questions, please call. Someone will be happy to help. Enjoy your stay.”
She waved over her shoulder, leaving a wake of something that smelled vaguely of Christmas cookies, and Stacy turned to her friends.
“We’re in some alternate dimension,” she said. “First, unless I open that door and find a hell hole, girl, you outdid yourself.”
Brit nodded agreement. They faced their doors in the time-honored tradition they’d observed every time they vacationed together. Stacy smiled at her friends. The first moments were always exciting. They counted to three then opened their rooms at the same time.
“Holy shit.” Brit let out a low whistle.
“Fuck, I’m good.” Kylie laughed with what sounded like relief.
As for Stacy, she hadn’t expected much from the small Catskills resort, whose online info claimed it was still a work in progress. The once thriving family-run place had been shut down for over a decade. Then Cat had picked up her grandmother’s property and decided to make a go of it.
The room in front of her belonged in a magazine. Sunlight streamed through big windows and made the room’s wood floors gleam. The bed was sleek and modern—no antiquated four-poster here—dressed in crisp white linens and sitting on what had to be the plushest area rug ever.
“I don’t know how you found this place. I don’t care how much we’re paying for this place. I don’t care what body part you had to sell to get these rooms. Wow.” Brit came and poked her head over first Kylie’s shoulder then Stacy’s.
Stacy finally noticed her bags, already sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed. Her bags. How anyone had made sense out of the jumble in the car’s trunk was beyond her. She shook herself and stepped into the room, halfway expecting the illusion to shatter. It didn’t.
“Let’s get these adjoining doors open.” She had the middle room and marched over to throw the locks on first one door, then the next. Brit opened her door and toed the doorstop into place while Kylie banged hers open, stuck her hands on her hips and looked around as if surveying her handiwork.
Each room had a bed, a comfy-looking chair with an ottoman, and a small desk and chair in addition to the promised mini fridge, coffee pot, and microwave. A spacious closet with a built-in dresser lined one wall, and a flat screen television hung opposite the bed.
“Moment of truth,” Brit said as she opened Stacy’s bathroom door. Then she stood there with her mouth open, pointing at the clawfoot tub. It wasn’t like they’d never seen these things before. They’d stayed in everything from bug-infested hostels, and some nice ones, to five-star hotel suites. It was that none of them had expected this out of the way place to be so well done.
“Okay, it has to be said, the pics on the website don’t do this place justice.” Stacy flopped onto her bed. Perfectly comfy. The online images were clean and modern, but somehow, they’d all been thinking they were idealized pictures. Computer-generated concept images or something. She’d certainly thought mountain lodge equaled wood paneling and plaid flannel everywhere. Speaking of plaid flannel…
“Did you get an eyeful of Nate Stewart?” Leave it to Kylie to voice what Stacy was thinking.
Brit shared those thoughts, judging by the way she fanned herself and fell back on the bed. “They’re both ridiculously hot.”
She rolled over and eyed Stacy. “How long has it been since you’ve had a boy toy?”
Kylie jumped between the two of them. “Too long! I know that much.”
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