Chapter Four
On Highway 93, theroad curved gently, teasing you to trust it.And you do, without hesitation.Gorgeous mountains with sharp jawlines and dramatic shoulders edge the road, all snow-dusted like they triednotto look this good and failed anyway.
Every few kilometers, there’s a lake pretending it’s not stunning and I wanted to slow down because this was the kind of beauty that demanded eye contact.The trees whispered things you’re pretty sure were encouragement or maybe gossip.Hard to tell.
As Lake Louise approached, the mountains closed in a little and the road straightened, confident now, because it knows where it’s going and it’s bringing you with it.
It was the fastest, most scenic section of roadway I’d been on.When Tristan maneuvered the van into the paid parking lot, sliding it neatly between a pair of high-end automobiles, I was grateful for the chance to catch my breath and breathe in the natural beauty.
He cut the engine and celebrated like he’d parallel parked a yacht.
“Lake Louise, three forty-five arrival,” he announced, smugness dripping off his words.“Oh, pardon me, three forty-six.You may now disembark and enjoy your overpriced coffee and breathtaking views.”
I raised an eyebrow and grabbed my drink, holding it like it was gold.Based on the price, it very well could’ve had gold sprinkled within the dark roasted beans.“I thought Mr.Bigshot Winery Owner would’ve had valet parking at the Fairmont.”
“Alas.”He sighed, unbuckling.“They told me all the stalls were reserved for celebrities.”
“So what are you doing parked here?”
His grin flashed, boyish and maddening, and I followed him out of the van before anything stupid flowed out of my mouth that could possibly reveal my still lingering high school crush.
“Shall we?”
“First, I need something from my suitcase.”I walked to the back of the van.
“Anything you need.An Ortega?A Shiraz?”
“Actually,” my voice lowered with a tinge of embarrassment.“I want the moose I packed in there.”
“You packed a moose in your luggage?No wonder it’s so heavy.”Mocking the weight of my baggage, he pulled it close to the edge with a heavy sigh.
I unzipped and retrieved the stuffie.
“DON’T MOOSE WITH ME, eh?”He tapped the white shirt of the stuffed moose.“Appropriate.Is there a story there, or some random, impulsive airport purchase?”
“Both.”
He leaned against the van after pushing my suitcase back in.“I’m all ears.”
I sighed and stared at the moose.“Every time the kids and I travelled, I’d use one of their stuffies as our trip mascot.If it was my son’s, we used his MonCow; a stuffie that was a cross between a monkey and a cow.”
“Perfect name.”
Glancing up he was smiling so I continued.“I agree.If it was my daughter’s stuffie trip, we used Monkey-Monkey; a Curious George knock off.”I wasn’t sure why I was sharing so much of this, but regardless, my mouth continued to spill.“Each trip, the stuffie was in many pictures, and at the end of the holiday, I made the kids a little keepsake album with all the photographs.”To this day, it was still one of their favourite albums to flip through.
“Well then, Mr.Moose needs to be a part of this.”Tristan winked.“Shall we show him Lake Louise?”
