Snowstorms & Schnapps Chapter 1

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as the rental car labored up yet another steep incline. Towering fir trees crowded the narrow mountain road, their snow-dusted branches forming a tunnel that seemed to swallow the morning light. The GPS had given up miles ago, leaving me to rely on the shaky memory of directions I’d glanced at before leaving Denver. A sensible person might have felt apprehensive. I, however, felt… well, maybe a bit apprehensive.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. Caroline Mitchell, always in control, now at the mercy of unmarked mountain roads and fickle technology. How was this supposed to prevent future panic attacks? I sighed, casting a glance at my phone perched in the cupholder. One bar of signal flickered to life. A moment later, it chimed, and I accepted the call.

“Caroline? It’s Marc.” His voice crackled over the Bluetooth speakers.

“What’s wrong?” I answered, trying to keep my tone steady as I navigated a sharp curve. “Did you send the files I asked for?”

“Yes, just sent them over. Serena still hasn’t responded yet.”

Typical. “Follow up again. Deadlines don’t move because she’s unmotivated.”

“Understood.” There was a pause, a hesitancy in his voice. “Are you sure you don’t want me to forward anything else while you’re away? It might help you relax, knowing things are under control.”

I smirked despite myself. Always the diligent assistant. “I’m trusting you to handle things, Marc. I took this trip to disconnect. So, unless the building is on fire, no.”

“Right. Right. Of course.” He sounded almost relieved. “I’ll make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“I know you will,” I said, with aggravation building. Was everyone incompetent? “You’re capable. That’s why I hired you.”

“Thank you, Caroline. Enjoy your trip.”

“Talk soon.” I ended the call, the silence settling in once more.

For a moment, I let myself consider the possibility of actually enjoying this break. The idea of relaxation was foreign, almost unsettling. What did one do without a never-ending stream of emails and meetings? I had no idea. And I wasn’t convinced it caused my false “heart attack” last week. The tests had to be wrong.

The road straightened, and as I emerged from the thick forest canopy, the sight of the cabin took my breath away — though I’d never admit it aloud. Nestled among the pines, it looked like something plucked from a storybook, all rustic charm and cozy allure. The sun hung high, casting a warm glow over the wooden beams and snow-blanketed roof.

“Well,” I muttered, “at least the pictures weren’t a total lie.”

I pulled into the clearing designated as the parking area and stepped out into the crisp air. The scent of pine was overwhelming, clean and sharp. I took a deep breath, the cold biting at my lungs. I looked around, a little unsettled that I couldn’t see any other cabins or buildings.

Guess remote means remote.

“Hello there!” A cheerful voice called out. I jumped.

I turned to see a woman approaching from the cabin’s porch, wrapped snugly in a wool coat and knitted hat. Her cheeks were rosy, and she thrust a gloved hand out to me.

“Caroline? I’m Doris, the owner.”

“Yes, hi.” I offered a polite, if not entirely warm, smile. There was a keypad for the lock. Why was she here for check-in? “The place is lovely.”

“Glad you think so. We try to make it as welcoming as possible.” She glanced up at the sky, her expression shifting. “Weather’s turning quicker than expected. They’re saying a storm’s rolling in tonight.”

I followed her gaze. The clouds were thickening, darkening at the edges.

“I wasn’t aware of any storms in the forecast.” I take it back. Marc was not a diligent assistant.

“Up here, the weather has a mind of its own.”

She hesitated.

“Well, the cabin has plenty of firewood in the shed. If you need anything, my nephew Jake is just up the road a bit. He can help with any issues.”

I stiffened at the thought. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I came here to get away from everything. Doctor’s orders.”

“Of course.” Her smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just wanted to make sure you’re prepared. Mountains can be tricky for folks not used to them.”

I managed a tight-lipped grin. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve got it under control.”

“Well, you got the code?” She asked, and I nodded and waved my phone. “My number is on the note inside, in case you have to use the landline.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Doris.”

She nodded, lingering for a second as if about to say something more, then seemed to think better of it. I think she muttered “City-diot” under her breath.

“Enjoy your stay, Caroline.”

I watched as she headed back to her car, the engine coughing to life before she disappeared down the road. She drove a different way than I came, and I wondered if she had another cabin and guest to go pester.

The silence enveloped me once she was gone.

I shook off the odd feeling of being left alone and grabbed my bags from the car.

Inside, the cabin was warm, the scent of wood smoke and something sweet — cinnamon — filling the air. The interior was a blend of rustic charm and modern convenience. A large stone fireplace dominated the living area, a fire already crackling merrily.

“At least Doris knows how to set the mood,” I mused.

I set my bags down and wandered to the kitchen, delighted to find it well-stocked. Opening a cupboard, I found mugs and glasses.

I needed a drink.

I pulled my suitcase to the bedroom and searched for the bottle of schnapps I brought. It was buried, so I dumped everything on the bed, vowing to organize it later. Bottle in hand, I made it two steps when the roof above me started creaking. I paused and looked up at the exposed beams as the groaning grew louder, then a large clump of snow slid off the roof and hit the ground outside with a muffled thud.

I let out a sigh, my heart pounding. Just snow.

I definitely needed a drink.

I poured myself a generous helping of schnapps and took a sip, the liquid burning a comforting trail down my throat.

“Here’s to disconnecting,” I said to the empty room and emptied the mug. Then I realized I wasn’t sure where I put my phone. Did I set it in the bedroom? I scouted for my lifeline, only to backtrack to the kitchen. I had placed it on the counter.

LTE mode.

I picked it up and started running around the cabin, checking every room for cell service. If I stood in the bathtub, there were two bars. The corner of the den, farthest from the fireplace, offered one bar.

A gust of wind rattled the windows, and I glanced outside. The trees swayed, the sky now a patchwork of dark clouds. Flurries of snow danced in the air, catching the fading light.

I wrapped my arms around myself. “It’s just weather.” Nothing I couldn’t handle.

Settling onto the plush sofa, I kicked off my boots and stretched out, letting the fire’s warmth seep into me. For a few moments, I allowed myself to relax, the tension in my shoulders easing.

Then the lights flickered.

I sat up, watching as they dimmed and brightened again. The hum of the refrigerator stuttered before resuming its steady drone.

“Perfect,” I muttered. “Just what I need.”

I tried to suppress the unease creeping in. It was an old cabin in the mountains. Of course, the power might be a bit unreliable. That’s why there was a fireplace and a cast iron next to it. I was fine. It was fine.

Still, the idea of being plunged into darkness out here was less than appealing.

I stood and paced to the window, watching as the snow began to fall more earnestly. Snow already dusted the ground, and a veil of flakes shrouded the trees.

“Maybe Doris wasn’t exaggerating about the storm.”

I considered my options. I could wait it out — it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to be — or I could… what? Run to the mysterious nephew for help? The thought was ridiculous. I was a capable, independent woman.

The wind howled, a low, eerie sound that mocked me.

“Get a grip, Caroline.”

I refilled my glass and settled back onto the sofa, pulling a thick blanket over my legs. The fire was still strong, its glow casting comforting shadows. I closed my eyes, listening to the crackle of the logs and the rhythmic ticking of a clock somewhere in the cabin.

The hum of the refrigerator spluttered again, but I ignored it. I wasn’t going to let a faulty power line ruin this… attempt at relaxation.

Images of pending contracts and unread emails tried to edge their way into my mind, but I pushed them back. My therapist said I can’t use work as my coping mechanism. I was here to escape that.

Wasn’t I?

I sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions. Maybe this solitude wasn’t such a bad thing. A chance to think. To breathe.

Outside, the storm continued to gather strength. The snow fell heavier, the wind more insistent. But inside, wrapped in warmth, I could almost pretend that everything was as it should be. I added another log to the fire and found myself some food.

And more schnapps.

Afternoon seemed to hit too soon. I checked my phone. 3:00PM, still LTE. The cabin grew dimmer, the edges of the room fading into shadow. I reached for the lamp beside me, but the bulb gave only a feeble glow before sputtering out.

“Really?”

I stood and tried the light switch by the door. Nothing. The hum of the refrigerator had ceased. The only illumination now came from the fireplace.

“Great.”

A louder gust battered the cabin, the windows creaking in their frames. But it was dark, cold, and I should have pulled more firewood already. Whatever’s out there is already wet. I at least knew that much.

The lights came back on and the refrigerator hummed to life. This cabin was schizophrenic.

But it was okay. It would be okay.

I sat back down, pulling the blanket tighter. Despite the circumstances, a small part of me was thrilled — a strange, adventurous whisper that I hadn’t heard in years.

Maybe this trip wouldn’t be such a disaster after all.

And the thought of Doris’s nephew — Jake, was it? — flickered in the back of my mind.

I dismissed it. I didn’t need rescuing.

Did I?