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CHAPTERONE
CHANCE ENCOUNTERS
SCARLETT
I like a plan.
Lists.
Checking things off the list.
Occasionally I write things down after I’ve done them just so I can cross them off, but mostly, I need the lists to survive.
It’s more than a compulsion to be organized, it’s an absolute necessity. Without my lists, I wouldn’t have kept the Landmark Mountain Lodge & Ski Resort afloat.
Big things, little things, it’s all there.
Months ago, my list looked something like this:
Laundry.
Email.
Make a dentist appointment.
Family dinner at Granddad & Grinny’s house, 5 p.m.
Find a new supplier for the resort’s linens.
Fire James B and Lori S BY TUESDAY, no more putting it off!
Pick up taquitos and clementines from Cecil’s.
Pay the electric bill.
Today’s list had three things on it:
Drive to Boulder.
Watch my life be signed away forever.
Get back to Landmark and figure out what I’m doing with the rest of my life.
And as of thirty minutes ago, I’d crossed off the first two things on the list…but for the past twenty, I’ve driven aimlessly around Boulder.
That wasnoton the list.
I keep passing the boutique hotel where my best friends Holly and April brought me for my twenty-first birthday a couple years ago, and on a whim, I pull into a parking spot in the front when one opens up.
I stare at the exterior for a few minutes and the next thing I know, I’m getting out of my car. The wind whips around my bare legs as I hurry inside the hotel, barely taking in the grand lobby as I walk toward the check-in counter, but instead, I take a last-minute turn and head to the bar.
I’ve already detoured so drastically from my plan to drive the two hours back home once the dreaded meeting was over, what’s my rush anyway? It’s not like I have anything to return to anymore.
Nothing about this is my typical M.O., but right now, I need to hear the buzz of conversation and laughter around me. I just don’t think I can face home tonight, not when everything has been forever altered. I slide onto the barstool and the weight of exhaustion hits me hard.
It’s been the longest day…the longest eight months, really. I’m tired to my bones.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks over her shoulder.
