Mine will not be beautiful. Not in the artistic way that sells. It will be colorful and sparkly. But beautiful? Not quite.
"Tell me something I don't know about this place," I say, working on my own ornament.
"About the resort?"
"Or about the mountain, the local area or something the previews don't cover."
He thinks about it as he paints. I can tell he’s actually considering the question as he doesn't just immediately answer. "There's a ridge trail about two miles east which takes forty minutes to hike. At the top there's a natural rock shelf where in January you can see the elk migration. Hundreds of them, moving at dawn. The rock shelf doesn't have a name and I’m pretty positive Justin doesn't know about it."
"Why doesn't Justin know about it?"
"Because some things should stay quiet. It doesn’t need to be another tourist area."
He just told me something he doesn't tell Justin, one of his best friends.
I feel like I've been handed something careful and specific and meant only for me.
"I want to see it," I say.
"The migration won’t happen until January."
"I'll be back in January." The words come out before I've decided to say them. I hear them land in the air between us and something in his expression shifts, like something he'd been waiting to confirm has been confirmed.
I just told him I'm coming back.
I just told myself I'm coming back.
Okay.
Guess I’m coming back.
The afternoon passes in the warm haze sponsored by mulled wine and Holly being everywhere at once with the specific energy of someone whose event is going perfectly and who is not going to relax until it's over. I buy three things from the artisan collective and a bottle of something from the wine room and photograph approximately everything.
I grab my second glass of mulled wine and notice he hasn’t had any. “I’ve noticed you don’t drink a lot in the way of alcohol. Is that a personal choice or…?”
“I occasionally will have a glass of good bourbon but for the most part, no. Many of the animals that have come to me have been a result of drunk drivers. If I’m working or driving, I don’t drink. I don’t want to make a decision that can cost an animal its life with alcohol in my system. I don’t judge others for drinking, as long as they make responsible choices.”
“I understand,” I say. He’s responsible down to his bones.
“Now, if I’m at home and not driving, and I’m not on call, which is very rare, there is only one other emergency vet in these parts, I might have a drink or two. I’m not that stuffy.”
I laugh. He’s a bit stuffy. In a way that I like. He walks with me throughout the day, and I’m so glad he is there. After I finish the second large cup of mulled wine, he takes my empty cup and replaces it with a bottle of water.
“Hydrate,” he says. “I’ve seen you drink coffee and wine all day. You need some water.”
How very Daddy of him.
“I don’t especially like water,” I say, testing his reaction.
“I don’t remember asking if you like water, baby girl.” He gives me a quick, almost unnoticeable wink.
Baby girl.
He just called me baby girl.
Before I can think too much about it, he continues. “Water is a necessity for all living creatures. We always make sure our animals have an abundance of clean water. It keeps them healthy. Do you know who else water keeps healthy?”
“Me?” I ask with a small shrug. “Lots of things have water. Coffee, for instance, is made of water.”
