Chapter 12

Having loaded their luggage and skis into the limousine, Cole gave an address to Ilary, the driver who had picked them up. Dawney thought, considering what she had seen so far, that she would most likely take them to a luxury hotel and, for the first time, wished Cole had at least had the decency to reserve two separate rooms. At worst, even if it would have meant finding an alternative accommodation in the middle of the Christmas season, and with little chance of success, she would have asked the hotelier if he could point her to an unpretentious hostel, a bed and breakfast, or a private individual renting a room not far from Cole's hotel.

Instead, to her surprise, the driver turned onto a road with a sign that said “Private Property,” then, after driving a short distance uphill, stopped in front of an old pink chalet with a large masonry terrace lined with pink, light gray, dark brown, and white marbled marble squares, a cherry wood sub-roof, and a small garden, which was snow-covered at the time and was home to three fir trees, one small and two medium-sized. The entrance to the chalet consisted of two very solid masonry columns covered with the same marble tiles as the terrace, above which was built an arched canopy of a darker wood.

Underneath was a small porch, with a cherry wood parquet floor and two wicker rocking chairs, and the front door, also made of wood, and which someone had decorated with a Christmas wreath in the colors of white and gold.

“We have arrived,” said Cole. “Welcome to the Sweet Rest chalet”

Sweet Rest...in Italian, thinking of what little she had learned indirectly from Mr. Rossini, her sister's employer, would be “Dolce Riposo.” A more than appropriate name, Dawney thought, because everything in that lodge seemed to invite calm and relaxation.

She was beginning to understand why, when he wanted to carve out a quiet moment and get away from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles, and also from the hustle and bustle of his job, Cole took refuge there.

On the other hand, however, that chalet somewhat clashed with her memory of him. Once, during a tour of Canada, the manager of Razor Edge had booked rooms for them in a lovely hotel in Vancouver, but he, judging the décor “too feminine” and “unworthy of a rock guitarist,” had trashed the suite they were staying in on the first day they arrived. The manager had taken a while to calm the hotelier down and, in the end, in addition to promising him substantial compensation for damages, had managed to get “decidedly more masculine” and “modern” rooms for both them and the other members of the Razor Edge and the other groupies following them.

Now, however, the very things he had openly shown he despised, such as soft colors, wood, and masonry, she found them in his cabin in Aspen!

“I bought it six years ago when I made my first billion dollars,” he explained to her, following her gaze. “Do you like it?”

She nodded. “It is very beautiful and also looks very relaxing.”

“Yes, it is true. That's why I purchased it,” Cole said, then, with a graceful movement, moved to the side seat and knocked on the partition wall. “We're ready to go down, Ilary.”

Dawney heard the driver's door open, then, soon after, the one next to them.

“The chalet is ready and Mrs. Grahm has stocked the refrigerator and pantry, Mr. Young,” the driver explained to him. “I will bring your bags and skis in a little while. In the meantime, you can take a seat in the dining room; Mrs. Grahm thought you would arrive tired, so she also prepared lunch and dinner for today. You will find everything in the refrigerator.”

“Perfect, we'll mean that as soon as we're rested, we'll stop by to see her and thank her in person.” Seeing Dawney's questioning expression, Cole explained to her. “She is my neighbor, she lives in the chalet just above us,” and, so saying, pointed her to a light-colored wooden chalet, which was located on the snowy mountain and about six hundred meters from his lodge, with a large outdoor terrace surrounded by a wooden gate on the first floor and a smaller one on the second floor, “when I am not here, she takes care of my cabin and, every time I come here, she has my lunch and dinner ready, even though I have never asked her to do so. She is from Val D'Aosta, Italy, while her husband is a London native. Next February fourteenth, if I remember correctly, they will be fifty years married.”

She nodded, taking good care to keep her emotions in check. Although, to herself, she thought that Mr. and Mrs. Grahm must be very romantic: it was not everyone who chose Valentine's Day, the Lovers' Day, to celebrate a wedding.

“What do you say, shall we pull in? That way, if you want, you can freshen up before lunch.”

“Yes,” Dawney agreed, “maybe it's better, otherwise we'll catch cold.”

They got out of the limousine and, while Ilary took care of their luggage, he led her the way to the chalet and, when he reached the door, opened it.

“Please, come in,” he told her, inviting her to enter.

The interior was nothing short of magnificent. Dawney registered in her mind's eye the cherry wood parquet floor, the staircase that led to the upper floor, the dark red carpet that covered it, and the handrail, also made of cherry wood, carved with images of leaves, berries, and fanciful squiggles.

“Here we find ourselves on the first floor. To the left is a living room with a view of the entire valley, and to the right is the dining room with a very spacious kitchen attached. In the basement there is a small room where I usually store my skis and boots and a bathroom utility room, for those times in the summer when I am doing small jobs in the garden and, perhaps, I am too covered with soil from head to toe to go upstairs and take a shower without the risk of getting the whole house dirty,” he explained in a joking tone.

“I understood. The bedrooms on the other hand? Where are they located?” Dawney asked him.

“On the upper floor. To the right is the master bedroom, and to the left, is the main bathroom, with a Jacuzzi, a bathtub, a walk-in shower, and a small indoor heated pool. It is the third largest room in the entire house, and that too has a view,” he continued. “Along the corridor connecting the two rooms, however, are two guest rooms, each with its own private bathroom. I have you set up in the one on the right, which is the one closest to the master bedroom, but it is also the larger one. There is also a Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom.”

She nodded. It was a logical choice: in case there were emergencies, she would hear Cole immediately and could go to him, without losing precious time, and intervene.

“Where is the pharmacy located?” she asked.

“There are two of them. One in your room, the other in the master bedroom,” answered Cole. “I also had two defibrillators purchased, just in case you needed them.”

'Smart and sensible choice,' thought Dawney.

When she had arrived, she had noticed that, nearby, there was no public green column with a defibrillator, and, that absence, had alarmed her greatly. Knowing, however, that there were two in the house, and that she would not have to alert the local emergency room to get one, reassured her.

At that moment Ilary passed by them and Dawney saw that she was carrying two suitcases, hers and Cole's, upstairs.

“Ilary, first arranges Mrs. Miller's suitcase in the guest room to the right, please.”

“All right, Mr. Young,” replied the driver and, immediately, walked to what would be her room for a month and, after opening the door, took the suitcase inside. A short time later she came out and, out of the corner of her eye, Dawney saw her carrying Cole's suitcase into the master bedroom.

He waited for Ilary to come out of the master bedroom and, as soon as he saw her, turned again to Dawney:

“I'm going to rest for an hour now, but make yourself at home. I'll meet you in the dining room and, after eating, we'll decide what to do. The doctor will arrive this afternoon, but, if the visit doesn't take too long, afterwards we can go for a walk in the surroundings with the snowshoes or, if you wish, already start doing some downhill skiing. The slopes are nearby and, behind the chalet, I also have a small private chairlift that can take us down to the main chairlift starting station and bring us back up to the chalet.”

“Okay,” replied Dawney. “I would say, first of all, it's best to hear what the doctor says. For the rest, there's time tomorrow...I warn you, though: I've never skied in my life, I don't know how to do it, so expect me to take at least ten thousand falls before I can stand.”

“Don't worry, I'll teach you,” he told her, hinting a smile. “I'm an excellent teacher.”