colored confetti swirled around it. Yes! This was absolutely perfect for him. Now for Irene.
“Hello. So we meet again!” She recognized the voice and turned and saw the skier she had met on the slopes that morning. “I see you’ve given up already, too.”
She shook her head. “Oh no, not completely but I decided to take it easy since this is my first day back.”
“Smart! Best not to push it.” He grinned and she noticed that the little lines etched around his dark brown eyes were extensions of his smile—a smile that seemed open and innocent and maybe, just maybe, a bit mischievous. He pointed to the baseball globe in her hand. “For a son or a nephew?”
“Neither. For… for a friend.”
“Good choice.” He reached for a small, decorated music box. “What do you think of this?”
“Good choice.” She laughed. “But then I love any music box.” She flipped the switch and smiled as the small lace butterfly atop the box flapped its delicate wings in time to the music. “It’s lovely,” she said.
He frowned. “Would a young girl like it?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely.”
“Good. Then I’ll take it. I never know what to buy her when I’m away on trips.”
“Your daughter?”
“No,” he said emphatically, “but definitely the most beautiful 10-year old girl in the world—my niece, my sister’s daughter. I tell her she’s my all-time favorite-in-the-world-female.” He rewound the toy mechanism. “I don’t get to see her too often though I do text her so I try to send her a surprise every-once-in-a-while just to let her know her uncle is alive and well.” He smiled. “And my sister gets to know where I am, which beats sending her constant e-mails.” He pointed to the cell phone in his pocket. “I hate e-mails and texting.” He gave the shopkeeper the music box and his credit card. “But they are convenient.”
She was amazed at how easy it was to learn so much about him in just a few seconds. He had a niece, a sister, he texted but didn’t like it and he had a great smile. She liked his openness and it was obvious he was used to talking to strangers.
He signed the credit slip the clerk put in front of him. “Going back to the Crest?”
“Not yet. I still have to get another present.” She picked up a woolen scarf and shrugged. “For another friend.”
“And now I know you’ve got two friends.” His laugh confirmed to her that he was used to being friendly. “Well, maybe we’ll see each other on the slopes. Thanks again for the help.”
“Anytime.” She watched him walk to the road and then put the scarf back into a stack on a table. She could have gone back to the Crest with him—she could have bought Irene’s gift another time, but best not to encourage too much responsiveness. Best to keep some distance.
She touched a little glass skier ornament, poked at the small black skis on it and then quickly replaced it on the counter. No, not for Irene—remember how many times she told you she hated snow and cold. She reached for a green decorated box—jasmine scented bath salts were really more Irene’s style.
~
The dining room was crowded and all hopes of getting a table by the windows were gone. She had forgotten to reserve one of the prized tables so that she could look out at the surroundings and watch the light snowfall that had begun within the last hour. Instead, she was seated at the far end of the room with a view mostly of the big potted palm near her. “I’m sorry,” the hostess apologized, “they’ve all been reserved. But I’ll try to save a table for you tomorrow, if you’d like.”
She gave the young waiter her order and then leaned back into her chair and listened to the low sounds of people talking and for a moment she was envious of the couples at the other tables and she wished that Jason were there with her. Oh, Jason , she thought, I wish you weren’t so inflexible—I wish you would just try this once .
She looked across the room, at
“Hello. So we meet again!” She recognized the voice and turned and saw the skier she had met on the slopes that morning. “I see you’ve given up already, too.”
She shook her head. “Oh no, not completely but I decided to take it easy since this is my first day back.”
“Smart! Best not to push it.” He grinned and she noticed that the little lines etched around his dark brown eyes were extensions of his smile—a smile that seemed open and innocent and maybe, just maybe, a bit mischievous. He pointed to the baseball globe in her hand. “For a son or a nephew?”
“Neither. For… for a friend.”
“Good choice.” He reached for a small, decorated music box. “What do you think of this?”
“Good choice.” She laughed. “But then I love any music box.” She flipped the switch and smiled as the small lace butterfly atop the box flapped its delicate wings in time to the music. “It’s lovely,” she said.
He frowned. “Would a young girl like it?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely.”
“Good. Then I’ll take it. I never know what to buy her when I’m away on trips.”
“Your daughter?”
“No,” he said emphatically, “but definitely the most beautiful 10-year old girl in the world—my niece, my sister’s daughter. I tell her she’s my all-time favorite-in-the-world-female.” He rewound the toy mechanism. “I don’t get to see her too often though I do text her so I try to send her a surprise every-once-in-a-while just to let her know her uncle is alive and well.” He smiled. “And my sister gets to know where I am, which beats sending her constant e-mails.” He pointed to the cell phone in his pocket. “I hate e-mails and texting.” He gave the shopkeeper the music box and his credit card. “But they are convenient.”
She was amazed at how easy it was to learn so much about him in just a few seconds. He had a niece, a sister, he texted but didn’t like it and he had a great smile. She liked his openness and it was obvious he was used to talking to strangers.
He signed the credit slip the clerk put in front of him. “Going back to the Crest?”
“Not yet. I still have to get another present.” She picked up a woolen scarf and shrugged. “For another friend.”
“And now I know you’ve got two friends.” His laugh confirmed to her that he was used to being friendly. “Well, maybe we’ll see each other on the slopes. Thanks again for the help.”
“Anytime.” She watched him walk to the road and then put the scarf back into a stack on a table. She could have gone back to the Crest with him—she could have bought Irene’s gift another time, but best not to encourage too much responsiveness. Best to keep some distance.
She touched a little glass skier ornament, poked at the small black skis on it and then quickly replaced it on the counter. No, not for Irene—remember how many times she told you she hated snow and cold. She reached for a green decorated box—jasmine scented bath salts were really more Irene’s style.
~
The dining room was crowded and all hopes of getting a table by the windows were gone. She had forgotten to reserve one of the prized tables so that she could look out at the surroundings and watch the light snowfall that had begun within the last hour. Instead, she was seated at the far end of the room with a view mostly of the big potted palm near her. “I’m sorry,” the hostess apologized, “they’ve all been reserved. But I’ll try to save a table for you tomorrow, if you’d like.”
She gave the young waiter her order and then leaned back into her chair and listened to the low sounds of people talking and for a moment she was envious of the couples at the other tables and she wished that Jason were there with her. Oh, Jason , she thought, I wish you weren’t so inflexible—I wish you would just try this once .
She looked across the room, at
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