Page 57 of Counting Down To You

16

I arrange the meeting with Stuart—I keep trying, but Burgers still feels odd—for the next day. After all, I’ve not exactly got a lot of time to play with. I crunch my way over a layer of freshly fallen snow on the pavement as I head toward the coffee shop in the center of town, grateful for the new boots I bought as I feel ice underfoot. I’m also grateful for the burst of warmth as I push open the door to La Forêt Café, and am welcomed by the smell of coffee, cinnamon, and gingerbread.

From a quick glance around, it doesn’t look like Stuart is here yet. I’d figured it was better to have this conversation with him on neutral territory away from the hotel, meaning that if it goes badly, there won’t be any witnesses. I suppose there is no guarantee he’ll actually show. When I sent a message, suggesting we meet to discuss, all I’d got back was an “okay.” Hardly an enthusiastic response.

I order a café noisette at the counter, trying out my very broken French, and am a little disappointed when I gather that this is not, in fact, a nutty, sugary flavored coffee, but an espresso topped with foamed milk. Still, it does make me look all sophisticated. I take it to a table by the window, where I have a view of the door. I feel twitchy as I sip coffee, trying to stop my knee from jumping. It’s silly. I’m not the one who should feel nervous here. I’m doing him a favor, not the other way around. It would be useful if I could listen to one of Robyn’s audiobooks to distract myself, but I’ve been doing so well on that challenge.

With that thought, Stuart comes through the door, bringing a wave of cold air I can feel from here. He has a hat pulled down over his ears, with wisps of gray hair peeking out beneath it. His bushy gray eyebrows are pulled into a frown over his dark eyes as he scans the café, wearing a coat that looks like it’s seen better days, overworn jeans, faded at the knees.

I raise my hand when he looks my way, work up my best client-facing smile. He acknowledges me with a brief dipping of the chin, then heads for the counter. I would have offered to buy him a drink if he’d come to sit down, but it feels odd to scurry after him.

They make his drink in record time, and he carries what looks like a black coffee over to my table.

“So,” he says, in place of “hello.” “You’re the one who’s got under Leo’s skin, are you?” He takes a seat opposite me, giving me a somewhat critical look.

“Ah…” This feels like an odd way to start the conversation, even if he must have heard that we’re “dating.” “I’m Ali,” I say, deciding that’s a safe bet. Even though I remember then that Leo has already introduced me, back at the hotel.

He waves my name away like it’s irrelevant. “I know who you are. The new guest-relations manager. And the girl Leo won’t shut up about, apparently.”

I can feel heat flooding my damn cheeks, even as I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything, because Leo is faking it. “I—”

“You’re also the one,” he continues, talking over me, “who decided it was a good idea to go hiking in the snow in an area she doesn’t know, alone, when there was snow forecast. And yet, for some reason, Leo thinks you’ll be able to help me.”

Seriously, Leo is friends with this guy? “I may not know the area,” I say stiffly, “but I do know how to hike. And I got back okay, didn’t I?”

He gives a noncommittal harrumph in response to that, sipping his coffee. “Did you buy some snowshoes?”

“I did.” I decide not to add that I haven’t had a chance to use them yet. We eye each other in a mutual sort of suspicion over the table. I have half a mind to leave and tell him that, fine, if he doesn’t want my help then I won’t force it on him. But I’m thinking of what Leo told me yesterday, about Stuart being there for him when he needed someone. I might not be able to see it, but I want to believe that Leo has a good reason for giving this man the time of day.

Which is why I pick up my tiny coffee, lean back in my chair and say, “So. Tell me about your hikes.”

He studies me over the rim of his mug. I get the impression that he’s deciding whether to answer me. Then he shrugs, a sharp, jerking movement. “I take people around the area. Offer them a bit of history, a bit of nature. Later in the year it’s good for the birdwatchers. Been doing it for years, always drawn interest.” He speaks in a rather staccato way, matching his movements.

“But you stopped offering them?” I know this already, but I want to know why.

“Yes. And now I want to start again.”

Not overly helpful, that. But I’m not sure how to pry further, given his demeanor. And right then, despite the fact I’m only here a short while, I am, technically, here on behalf of the hotel. Surely I need to get a sense of whether he’s serious about starting the business again, given that was one of Leo’s main concerns. Knowing why he stopped in the first place would help on that front.

Before I can think of the right way to ask, Stuart huffs out a breath, taking off his hat and dropping it on the table. “You don’t believe me.” A statement, rather than a question.

“It’s not that. I—”

“Don’t believe what, exactly? That I’m going to start the business again—or that I know what I’m doing?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” I say, using my best soothing voice, the one I use to calm nervous clients. “It’s just Leo—and I—we want to make sure that anything we are offering guests is of the highest quality and—”

“You can’t get more quality than nature,” he interrupts sharply. “I like skiing much as the next guy around here, but most people, they don’t stop to really experience where they are when they’re skiing. So many of them are in it for just the thrills. My hikes show you a different side of the area. And you see things you’d never see otherwise.” That, I can believe—I’d never have seen the waterfalls if I’d stuck only to the slopes. And I meant what I said at the hotel: I can see the appeal of wintery hikes.

“You don’t have to convince me of that,” I say, keeping my voice smooth and even. “Trust me, I can fully believe that hiking shows you a side of the mountains a lot of people don’t see.” I lean forward. “Look, I love the idea of offering guests hiking. I would love to be able to go on some of the hikes myself too.” As long as you don’t yell again, I think. “I totally agree that the only way to get to know an area is to spend time exploring it, and hiking is one of the best ways, in my opinion. And I love the idea of being able to see wildlife. I know it sounds silly, but I’m still thinking of that snow finch from the other day. But—”

“I’ll take you on one,” he interrupts, not letting me get to the “buts.”

I frown. “You’ll take me?”

“That’s right. On a hike. I’ll show you what it’s about, then you’ll know what kind of experience you’re offering your guests.” He runs a hand through his hair, and for the first time since he walked through the door, I sense an undercurrent of nerves.

It’s a good idea, I concede, showing me what his business is all about, rather than just telling me. Plus, I would love it. And I really do want to try out my snowshoes. But…I bite my lip. “It’s just, if you gave up the business last time, are you sure you—”