she said, glancing out of the window. The quaint, pitched-roofed buildings had been covered in deep mantles of snow when they’d arrived, but now they were gradually fading out of sight. A drift of snowflakes falling like a veil was growing heavier by the minute, while the flawless blue sky that had so impressed her was rapidly turning to unrelieved grey. ‘I should get out and scout the various locations while I still can,’ she said, drawing the meeting to a close. ‘Take the night off. I’m going to need everyone firing on all cylinders tomorrow.’
‘What about you?’ a colleague piped up.
‘I’ll rest when I’m reassured about our venues. Until then…?’ She shrugged.
‘Keep in touch.’
‘I will,’ she promised.
The village proved to be a fascinating place with its glitter and sparkle, but what struck Stacey more was the resilience of visitors and residents alike as they crowded the pavements in what were undeniably extreme weather conditions.
Still, everyone was dressed for it, Stacey reasoned, admiring the beautifully decorated shop windows as she strode past in her snow boots and Party Planners padded jacket. She was heading for the gondola station as, not only was there to be a party down here, but a reception higher up the mountain at Luc’s ski lodge, as well as a firework display and a torchlit procession down the mountain. Pausing briefly to adjust her snow goggles, she studied the statue of a miniature couple in one of the windows. Placed outside the model of a typical chalet, both figures were wearing skis and staring up at each other in apparent rapture.
I should have learned to ski, she mused silently. Too late now. But the gondola would take her where she needed to be. She could just step in and out, no problem.
Craning her neck when she reached the station, she tried to spot Luc’s eyrie. It was supposed to be the biggest chalet on the mountain. She thought of it as his castle, his fortress, his ivory tower. But she couldn’t see anything as low cloud and the misting of snow had blotted out the upper reaches of the route the gondola would take.
What if the gondola stopped running? How would they transport the guests?
There was time, Stacey reasoned. They had a good few days before the party. Surely the weather would have improved by then?
The hotel manager had told her that Lucas had arrived by helicopter that same morning. Her heart went crazy all over again, just as it had the first time she’d heard it. ‘Nothing deters him,’ the hotel manager had said. ‘Bad weather has been forecast, but Señor Da Silva is an expert pilot, so he knows all about timing to escape the worst of any oncoming storm.’
Yes, he would, she’d thought then. Niahl had warned her that the weather could be unpredictable but that this resort had some of the most challenging slopes in the world, which was what had attracted Lucas to the village in the first place. It would, she mused.
Would Luc be thinking about her, as she was thinking about him?
Only in as much as he might wonder if she and the team had arrived before the weather closed in, she concluded. She hadn’t heard from him since Barcelona, confirming her belief that their night together meant more to her than it did to him. Of course he’d take for granted the fact that she’d get on with things. And why shouldn’t he? She wanted him to know he could rely on her, and that Party Planners would give him the event of the year.
She paused at the foot of the steps leading up to the gondola station. Her pulse jagged at the thought of seeing Luc again. Dragging deep on the ice-cold air, she hunched her shoulders into her jacket and drove forward into the wind. Behind her, vehicles with snow chains were crawling along. Even they were having difficulty negotiating the road. But what she’d started, she would finish. All she needed was a quick look-see so she could brief the team, and then she’d head straight back down the mountain to take a hot bath and have a good sleep before the real work began tomorrow.
STACEY ONLY REALISED what she’d taken on as the packed gondola transporting skiers to their chalets on the higher levels left its berth on the lower station. It was one thing agreeing to what had seemed a perfectly reasonable request by the Da Silva team, to hold a party in the main village before transporting guests up the mountain for the grand finale of fireworks and a torchlit descent. There was no doubt that the infrastructure was here to support that. But when the weather closed in as it had done today, she could only be grateful that she’d taken the precaution of having everything delivered in good time for the party. She doubted anything else would get through.
Luc had intimated through the head of his team that he had a novel idea for ferrying guests up the mountain for the champagne reception. Stacey had yet to learn what that was, and had put in an urgent request for more information so she could plan for whatever needed to be done.
Firming her jaw, she stared out of the window. There were always challenges, but this took things to the wire. As the ground dropped away the wind picked up and whistled around the swaying car. None of her companions seemed concerned, so she made herself relax and wait until that blissful moment when she was back on solid ground.
Snow was falling steadily when she joined the crowds streaming out of the station. She had a map but it wasn’t much use now the street had disappeared beneath a thick white carpet. Seeing a ticket booth, she stopped to ask directions and was told that she couldn’t miss the Da Silva chalet as it was the largest private structure in town. ‘Will the gondola continue to run?’ she asked, staring up at the leaden sky.
‘Of course,’ she was told. ‘Only a white-out or heavy winds could stop the service, and this weather system is supposed to move on.’ A glance at the sky seemed to confirm this. A big patch of blue had broken through the cloud. Thanking the clerk, she took the precaution of donning a pair of high-performance ski goggles to prevent snow-blindness and set off, but she had barely made it out of the station before a strong wind kicked up. The patch of blue she’d been so relieved to see soon disappeared behind a fresh bank of cloud and these clouds were thicker and darker than before.
Weather in the mountains was known to be unpredictable. Could anyone accurately predict the capricious path of Mother Nature? Somehow, she doubted it.
A heavy silence gathered around her as she trudged along. Everyone else seemed to have retreated into their houses or hotels, and even those buildings had turned ghostly in the half-light. Her heart was racing. The snow was falling so heavily now, it was like a thick white curtain in front of her face. Her heart was racing. She’d heard enough horror stories to know she should be concerned. She couldn’t even be sure if she was walking in a straight line or going around in circles. Luc’s chalet was supposed to be close to the station, and, though it might be the largest private home in the area, if she couldn’t see the other buildings, what hope did she have of finding it?
Adjusting her neck warmer so it covered her mouth and nose, she bent her head into the wind and slogged on. Going back wasn’t an option. When she stopped and turned to try and get her bearings, the gondola station had disappeared. Tugging off a thick ski glove with her teeth, she located her phone and tried to call her colleagues in the village. No signal. There was only one option left, and that was to keep on walking in the hope that something would come into view, though that didn’t seem likely in this all-encompassing sea of white.
‘Hello! Hello!’ she called out, panic-stricken. ‘Can anyone hear me?’
Silence
