CA 35 Christmas Past by Debra Webb

“Yes. I’ve been here
before.” The tension he felt at the question showed in his posture.
                The room phone rang.
                Jason was thankful for
the interruption.
                Molly picked up the
receiver. “Hello.” She listened a moment. “Sure. Okay.” She got up, held the
receiver out to him. “It’s for you.”
                Jason pushed up and
walked over to the sofa and took the phone. “Thanks.”
                She got up, grabbed her
plate and wandered back to the cart. To give him some privacy, he supposed.
                “This is Jason Fewell .” Jason listened as the desk clerk explained there
was a problem with his rental car. The agency had left a document at the desk
for him to review and sign. “Sure, I’ll be right down.” He placed the receiver
back in its cradle. “There’s an issue at the front desk with the rental car. Some kind of form. I’ll be right back.”
                “God, the fruit is
marvelous.” She moaned as she sank her teeth into a strawberry.
                A new kind of tension
tightened in Jason’s belly. A few minutes out of the room would be a good
thing. This lady was getting under his skin way too fast.
                “I’ll save some for
you,” she called after him as he headed for the door.
                “I can always order
more,” he reminded her before slipping out.
                The corridor was empty.
Who would hang around their room when on vacation in a snow-covered paradise
like this?
                Other
than him?
                And
his roommate?
                Jason shook his head.
He wasn’t sure if she was staying close because she felt sorry for him or
because she was lonely, too.
                Too…That truth rattled
him.
                He was lonely.
                That admission had been
a long time in coming.
                He hustled down the
stairwell. Tomorrow morning he should run. The thinner air would be somewhat
limiting, but staying in shape was essential. Too hard to
come back from a few days of laziness.
                After pushing through
the door to the first floor, he strode across the grand lobby and bellied up to
the front desk.
                “I’m Jason Fewell . You have something here for me to sign.”
                Two female clerks stood
behind the counter. They exchanged a look that said they had no idea what he
was talking about.
                “I’m sorry, sir. Did
someone call you?” the one named Carrie asked.
                Jason nodded. “He said
his name was Austin.”
                Another of those looks
passed between the two.
                “Sir, we don’t have an
Austin at the front desk.”
                Confusion tugged at his
brow. “Maybe he works in the manager’s office or in reservations?”
                Both heads shook. The
one whose name tag read Ellen confirmed, “No, sir. We don’t have an Austin on
staff at all.”
                “But the call,” Jason
countered, “was from inside the lodge.”
                “If the caller knew
your room number,” Carrie explained, “he could use any of the house phones.”
She gestured to a table in the lobby. “Maybe a friend is playing a prank on
you.”
                Realization tingled at
the base of his skull. He didn’t bother explaining that he didn’t have any
friends here. He knew exactly what was going on.
                MOLLY PULLED A SWEATER over
her head. She had a bad feeling about this call to the front desk. Why would a
rental agency drop off a form at the lodge without calling Fewell first?
                They wouldn’t.
                She shoved her feet
into her boots and headed for