The Christmas List: A Novel
: Chapter 9

The Snowed Inn was a large Victorian with three great gables set above a wraparound front porch. White Christmas lights outlined the building, creating a thin halo in the pale fog. Broad red ribbon was wrapped around the porch’s supporting pillars giving them the appearance of giant peppermint sticks. The two front doors were garnished with pine wreaths adorned with silver and red baubles.

Kier parked his car. When he reached for his cell phone on the seat next to him his hand found a pool of water and his phone in it. He lifted it, dripping. The screen was blank, Kier pushed the buttons on the keypad but nothing happened. He angrily threw it on the car floor. Then he climbed out of the car, grabbed a small sports bag from the trunk, and walked up the steps into the inn.

The Snowed Inn had originally been built at the end of the nineteenth century as a home by Clayton Daly, a successful silver prospector and co-owner of the Daly-West Silver Mine. When Daly was killed in an explosion in the mine, his wife had tried to support her family by turning the home into a boardinghouse. Within a few years World War I lowered the price of silver and as prospectors left the town, the building became just another relic of a ghost town. When developers rediscovered the city in the late sixties the old building was revived as a bed-and-breakfast and had done well ever since.

Just inside the door, under a daguerrotype of Clayton Daly, was a crescent-shaped walnut counter. Behind it stood a portly, silver-haired man wearing a red flannel shirt and brown corduroy pants with blue suspenders. He smiled as Kier entered. “Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to the Snowed Inn.”

Kier, still angry about his phone, was in no mood for pleasantries. “I’ve got a reservation,” he said curtly. “It’s under Kier.”

“Yes, Mr. Kier, we’ve been expecting you. You have a very pleasant secretary, I might add. Your secretary left a credit card number with me, so if you’ll just sign right here I can take you right up to your room.”

Kier signed the registry. “Do you have Internet access?”

“We have wireless in every room. The access code is printed on the keycard sleeve. How many keys do you need?”

“Two, but I want to leave one here. My companion won’t be here until eight or so.”

“Very good,” he said, lifting a pen. “Her name?”

“Traci.”

He wrote her name on the key sleeve. “Traci. Do you need help with your bag?”

“Of course not. Just call my room when she arrives.”

“I’ll be sure to do that. You’re right around the corner and up the stairs. My name is Fred if you need anything. We begin serving breakfast at six.”

“What time does it end?”

“Eleven. Have a good stay.”

Once inside his room, Kier set his bag on an end table, then pulled out his laptop and logged into the hotel’s network. He checked over his e-mails and the Dow Jones, then closed his computer and walked over to open the television cabinet. The remote was on top of the television. He lay back on the bed and surfed channels until he came across the University of Utah Utes playing the ASU Sundevils. The game was only halfway through the first quarter; he propped several pillows up behind him and lay back to watch. Before the end of the first quarter he was asleep.

When he awoke, the room was dark except for the glow of the television; a weatherman was talking in excited tones about the blizzard. Kier checked his watch: 10:22. He instinctively reached for his cell phone, then remembered that he no longer had one. He picked up the room phone and called the front desk. “This is James Kier in 211. I was expecting a guest; has she called?”

“No sir, but I’ll call you the moment she arrives. The weather has probably delayed her.”

“Probably.” He hung up and dialed Traci’s cell phone but she didn’t answer. This didn’t surprise him since she made it a point to never answer calls from phone numbers she didn’t recognize. It crossed his mind that she could have been stuck in the canyon or worse, but he let it pass. She got me all the way up here; she better have a good excuse. He lay back, angry. Within a few minutes he fell asleep again.

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