Christmas at the Chalet Page 15

  “Let’s talk about it later,” Felicity said as Nell’s mother appeared. “I’m glad your mother asked me to join you. The mountain air is wonderful, and I already feel better.”

  “The chef retired years ago. The new chef is Stefan’s son.” Her mother sat down and laughed. “He recommended the homemade blueberry cake. He promised to add extra blueberries.”

  The waiter brought blueberry cake with fresh cream. There were plates of eggs and bacon and mugs of black coffee.

  “This was a good idea,” her mother said approvingly, stirring sugar into her coffee. “I forgot what it’s like to eat on the mountain. Everything tastes better, and the air is so invigorating. When we were chalet girls, we all wanted to be Audrey Hepburn in the opening scene of Charade.”

  “I’ve never seen it.” Felicity ate a strip of bacon.

  “We used to watch it on the TV in our room,” she mused. “Audrey Hepburn is sitting at a mountain hut in a Swiss ski resort. She looks impossibly elegant: huge sunglasses and a beehive hairdo and skiwear by some European designer. A gorgeous man skis up and it turns out to be Cary Grant. They fall madly in love, of course,” she sighed. “The girls would sit for hours at a café on the mountain hoping the same thing would happen to them.”

  “It seems like a waste of a good day’s skiing,” Nell said, laughing.

  “I quite agree.” Her mother nodded. “Most of the chalet girls were in St. Moritz to find a fiancé. They even ranked the men by their nationalities. Italian men were sexy, but they often had wives at home. The French had titles, but hardly any money. It all went to keeping up their chateaus.” She chuckled. “I wasn’t thinking about marriage. I came to St. Moritz to ski.”

  “I’ve never seen you on skis,” Nell said, and turned to Felicity. “When we were kids, my mother used to stand at the bottom of the bunny slope with chocolate bars.”

  “You and Pete were always hungry,” she recalled fondly. “I was a good skier when I was young. And completely fearless. I broke my ankle skiing the Corvatsch.”

  “You broke your ankle in St. Moritz?” Nell asked, startled.

  “It was a week before I was supposed to go home.” Her mother sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “If I hadn’t, I might never have seen your father again.”

  St. Moritz

  Twenty-Eight Years Ago

  Patty

  Patty sat at an outdoor table at Café Trutz and dug into a plate of veal cutlets with polenta and Gorgonzola cheese.

  It was the kind of morning when Patty was glad she’d come to St. Moritz. All the bad parts of being a chalet girl—the male guests who pinched her when she served their crepes, the endless loads of laundry—seemed inconsequential when she could spend hours skimming the fresh snow and schussing to the bottom of the run.

  Todd was standing at the self-service food bar. Her stomach did a little flip. Even though they’d spent the entire week together, she still couldn’t believe they were falling for each other. He was funny and sweet, and as handsome as a movie star.

  It was lovely to share a chairlift in the morning, and to rub each other’s feet at the end of a day. And it was heavenly to sit at an outdoor table and share the house specialties: barley soup and apple strudel with dollops of whipped cream.

  Patty’s roommate was having an affair with a Swedish ski instructor, so they usually went to Patty’s room after Todd finished work. They watched American movies with German subtitles on television and nibbled leftover lamb chops.

  The second night, when Todd tried to unsnap her bra, she’d removed his hand and told him she wasn’t about to lose her virginity to a boy she’d never see again. But every night she invited his hand to venture a little further, and it gave her so much pleasure.

  Sometimes when his mouth was on hers and his hand roamed over her thighs, she didn’t want to stop. But it wasn’t a good idea. What if she felt differently after they made love? What if it was harder to say goodbye?

  “These self-service restaurants can be infuriating.” Todd appeared at the table. “I was stuck behind a Canadian woman who wouldn’t choose a dish she couldn’t pronounce. Who cares how you say gerstensuppe or streuselkuchen? They’re all delicious.”

  “How can you complain on such a gorgeous day?” Patty waved at the mountain. “The conditions are perfect. You should have joined me on the Grand Alva, the moguls were amazing.”

  “I prefer to keep my skis on the ground.” Todd buttered a slice of pumpernickel. “I have to work tonight, and it’s difficult to serve cocktails with your leg in a cast.”

  “The moguls are the best part of skiing,” Patty said. “The wind is in your hair and the sun is on your cheeks and you feel like you’re flying.”

  “It sounds sexy when you describe it,” Todd concurred. “You can tell me about it this evening in bed.”

  “How do you know we’re going to spend tonight in bed?” Patty asked impishly. “I might have other plans.”

  “I’d be jealous if I thought that was possible.” He kissed her. “We’ve spent every minute together, and you haven’t had time to meet anyone else.”

  “It’s not about meeting someone else,” she said thoughtfully. “We should do something at night besides watch a Clint Eastwood movie where everyone speaks German. We could go to a museum or tobogganing.”

  “The movies are awful; I can’t understand a word the actors say,” Todd agreed. “But you’ve been happy watching television. What’s changed?”

  Patty stabbed her sausage with her fork and blushed. She had never talked about sex with a man.

  “We’re in St. Moritz. We should go snowshoeing or take a horse and carriage ride,” she suggested. “Instead all we do is lie on a lumpy bed with itchy sheets.”

  “They are terrible sheets,” Todd laughed. “I always wonder if they’re preventing us from doing what we both want.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “We kiss until my lips are numb, and then you disappear to the kitchen for a glass of water. I want you to feel safe, but I can’t tell if you want to stop or if you’re just thirsty.” He looked at Patty plaintively. “You have to tell me what you want.”

  “I don’t know what I want.” She blushed furiously. “I’ve never talked about sex with a boy before.”

  “I know I want to make love to you,” he said hoarsely. “You’re beautiful and intelligent, and when we’re together I’m so happy.”

  “I want it too, but what if I get pregnant?” She shook her head. “I can’t risk my future for a few minutes of passion.”

  “If you like, I can go down to the pharmacist to get some condoms,” Todd said. “I’ll even keep them in my pocket so you won’t be embarrassed by your roommate finding them in your dresser.”

  “It’s not just that.” She looked up at Todd. “What’s the point? We’re leaving in a week, and then we’ll both be unhappy. It’s better to leave as friends.”

  “I don’t want to be friends.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m falling in love with you, and I hoped you’d feel the same. I can live without having sex, but I can’t imagine not seeing you again. We’ll figure something out.”

  “That’s easy to say when we’re sipping hot chocolate at a mountain café,” Patty said, trying to be logical. “But how will that work when we live in different states? Statistics show holiday romances never last. It would be less painful to part as friends.”

  “There’s that word again,” Todd said vehemently. “We’re not a statistic, we’re two people from different places who found each other in the Swiss Alps. Do you know how lucky we are? I’m not letting what we have disappear.” He stared at the skiers barreling down the slopes.

  “Let’s make a bet. I’ll race you to the bottom of the mountain,” he announced. “If I win, we vow to see each other again after the week is over.”

  “You want to race for our relationship?” Her eyes danced. “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard.”

  “It’s not cra
zy at all. I want to race for the opportunity to get to know you better,” he said. “There’s nothing more important in the world.”

  “I’m bound to win. I’ve been skiing since I was six years old,” she responded. “I’d be at the bottom while you’re adjusting your bindings.”

  “Are we on?” Todd leaned forward.

  Todd’s face was close to hers, and his eyes were emerald green. Her heart beat a little faster and she took a deep breath.

  “We’re on.” She stood up and grabbed her goggles. “I’ll meet you at the chairlift.”

  * * *

  Patty clutched her poles and pushed off down the mountain. The Hahnensee was the most difficult black diamond run in St. Moritz, but it was almost the most exhilarating. At the top it was wide and open, and Patty felt like a ballet dancer making patterns in the snow. Then it passed through a forest and became so narrow, two skiers couldn’t pass at the same time.

  Todd was crazy to race her. She had taken lessons since she was a child, and he’d never tried on a pair of skis until high school. He wavered at the top of the chairlift and she almost pulled to the side and waited for him to catch up. Then the sun glinted on her skis and she didn’t want to stop.

  The thick swath of fir trees ended, and she could make out the bottom of the run. She turned to see if Todd was behind her and noticed him skiing around the moguls. She was about to lift her poles in victory when a tree branch jutted out in front of her. The last thing she remembered was her skis flying out from under her and the sound of something crunching like a car tire on an icy road.

  * * *

  Patty opened her suitcase and flinched. It had been five days since her accident, and she was finally able to move without swallowing pain pills. Todd told her everything that had happened after she blacked out: the stretcher that carried her to the hut, and the doctor who debated whether her ankle required surgery. Thankfully it was a hairline fracture, and all she needed was a boot and plenty of rest.

  Todd had called her parents, and her father had insisted on coming to St. Moritz. The last thing she wanted was to sit at the chalet while her parents hovered over her. It was better if she went home.

  “You’re up.” Todd entered the room carrying a paper sack. “I brought chocolate croissants. The cashier at Hanselmann’s felt sorry for you and included a free nut torte.”

  “Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” Patty said.

  “Then I’ll eat them.” Todd bit into a croissant. “Why is your suitcase out?”

  “I’m going home.” Patty opened the drawer. “I have a seven p.m. flight from Zurich.”

  “What do you mean, you’re going home?” he asked in shock. “You haven’t said anything about leaving. The doctor said you should lie with your ankle up.”

  “I’ve been lying here for days. I’m going stir-crazy.” She folded a pile of sweaters. “And I’ll keep my ankle up on the plane. It will be eighteen hours of enforced rest.”

  “It’s going to be impossible to travel by yourself with that ankle,” Todd said imploringly. “How will you manage luggage and customs?”

  “The taxi driver will carry my suitcase into the station, and my father hired someone to meet me at the Zurich airport.” She took underwear out of the drawer. “Don’t worry, I’ll be handed over to my parents at LAX like an impossibly delicate soufflé.”

  “We haven’t worked out how we’ll see each other again.” He was almost frantic. “You can’t just disappear.”

  Patty noticed the look of hurt in Todd’s eyes. There was a catch in her throat.

  “There is such a thing as a telephone,” she offered.

  “We’ll be too busy when we get home. We need to make a plan now.” He gulped. “I’ll tell you what. What if I take you to the airport? I’d like that very much.”

  “You’re going to take the train all the way to Zurich?” She raised her eyebrow.

  “I can’t let you just leave.” His voice softened. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

  “All right, you can take me to the airport.” She hobbled over and kissed him.

  He kissed her back and his breath tasted like chocolate.

  “I did win the race, remember,” he whispered. “I take bets very seriously.”

  “How can I forget?” She tried to laugh “I’m wearing the boot to prove it.”

  “I mean it.” He kissed her again. “I’m not giving up on us.”

  “I believe you.” She nodded, and a frisson of excitement ran up her spine.

  * * *

  Patty was glad Todd had offered to accompany her to Zurich. They took the Rhaetian Railway and had to change trains at Chur. Her ankle started to throb and the suitcase was heavier than she thought, and by the time they reached the airport she was grimacing with pain.

  “Someone is supposed to meet me.” She glanced around the terminal. If he didn’t show up, she’d have to change planes at Heathrow by herself. There was only an hour’s layover, and she might miss her connecting flight. “My father paid him to escort me to Los Angeles.”

  “Turn around,” Todd instructed her. He was wearing a wool coat and carrying a knapsack.

  “I don’t see him, and they are about to board,” Patty said worriedly. “It’s going to take me ages to get to the gate.”

  “You turned too far.” He took her arm and positioned her in front of him. “That’s better.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her cheeks flushed and she gasped. “You can’t take me to Los Angeles!”

  “Why should your father pay a stranger to sit on a plane, when I’m going to the same country?” Todd asked. “I called and offered to accompany you.”

  “You called my father without telling me?” Patty was suddenly angry. “I’m not a package you get paid to deliver.”

  “He’s not paying me. I just changed my flight.” Todd shook his head. “Anyway, I didn’t want to stay in St. Moritz without you. You don’t even have to sit next to me on the plane. I’ll get you settled and not bother you at all.”

  “Where’s your suitcase?” she wondered. “All you have is a backpack.”

  “There wasn’t time to pack.” He shrugged. “I asked Christopher to ship it. I’m sorry, I should have said something.” He hung his head. “I was afraid you might say no.”

  “I might have,” she agreed. “California is a long way from Ohio.”

  “I have a six-hour layover,” he said brightly. “Maybe you can show me the beach.”

  She reached up and kissed him. He kissed her back and she felt something new, like a flower opening after the winter.

  “I did say you should come to California,” she acknowledged.

  “You did,” he agreed.

  “Then let’s go.” She pointed to her bag. “Would you mind carrying my suitcase?”

  * * *

  “How did we start talking about this?” her mother asked, eating a slice of blueberry cake. “Your father could charm anyone. Within a week he had moved all his stuff to Los Angeles and got a job at a restaurant so we could get to know each other. He even convinced his new boss to let him sleep in the room above the restaurant where they kept the extra furniture.”

  “He was in love with you,” Nell said to her mother. If she could only get her mother to see how much her father had loved her, perhaps she would change her mind about coming to the wedding.

  “Who knows what he was?” she answered briskly. “It doesn’t matter; that was years ago. When you are young, you don’t realize people change as often as chameleons shed their skin. Your father and I are completely different people.”

  Her mother went inside to use the powder room and Nell finished her coffee.

  “Your mother really is beautiful,” Felicity commented. “She must have been stunning when she was young.”

  Nell gazed at the skiers and suddenly had an idea.

  “My father was her first proper boyfriend,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe she regretted never seeing other men.”

&nbs
p; “You think she had an affair?” Felicity asked. “Your father was so in love with her, she didn’t have to look anywhere else.”

  “Not an affair—what if other men admired her? A director at a cocktail party, or a teacher at school? She didn’t rebuff their advances, and my father got jealous.”

  “I suppose it’s possible,” Felicity agreed. “But why would she be so angry?”

  Nell stood up and grabbed her goggles. “I don’t know yet. I’m supposed to meet my father at the gondola in twenty minutes. Will you stay and finish breakfast with my mother?”

  “What will I say if she asks why you left?” Felicity wondered.

  “Say Raj scheduled a last-minute photo shoot.” Nell waved her hand. “I can’t keep my father waiting.”

  “You really should tell them the truth,” Felicity said. “You can’t keep running around St. Moritz.”

  “I have to find out what happened so they come to the wedding,” Nell faltered. “Every time I think of walking down the aisle without my father, or not seeing my mother sitting in the front row, I can hardly breathe.”

  Nell sat on the chairlift and tried to imagine her mother at twenty-one: young and beautiful and skiing effortlessly down the mountain. People might change, but true love lasted forever. That’s what made it wonderful.

  Her father stood at the base of the gondola and she waved. If only she could make her parents see that, perhaps they would forgive each other and attend the wedding. Then she’d be the happiest bride in the world.

  Ten

  Three Days Before the Fashion Show

  1:00 p.m.

  Felicity

  FELICITY WALKED THROUGH THE VILLAGE in the early afternoon and admired the shop windows. She left Patty at the hotel after their breakfast at Restaurant Chasellas and decided to buy some souvenirs. There was a light dusting of snow, and it all looked so inviting: interior-design stores with modern Swedish furniture, a Chanel with bottles of perfume perfect for New Year’s Eve, a diamond-and-sapphire pendant at Harry Winston.

  If only things were different, she’d be tempted to splurge on something fabulous to take home: the bright orange dress at Gucci, or a quilted jacket from Escada. But Adam would never see it, so what was the point? She’d spend the next year in the slacks and blouses she wore to work and the bathrobe she put on when she got home.