Party At The Inn

Skiing or alone over Christmas? OK. Reserved a room, and printed directions on how to find the hotel. North on I-91 toward Vermont.

Then the blizzard. Couldn't see the roads I was supposed to take; saw a big drift just before driving into it. Snow over the door jambs.

Then my luck changed. Even with near white out conditions, a brightly lit Inn could be seen. Sounded like a party as I climbed the front porch.

George greeted me, "Welcome."

"Stuck in a drift at the end of your driveway," I responded. "Any room for the night?"

"We've gotten a cancellation." George announced. "My daughter Mary will show you the room. Settle in, and come down to join the party."

Mary was beautiful in a dark blue sweater. A smile that melted the snow on me.

"Mark," I introduced myself, with what felt like a silly grin.

Great party! Food, wine, music, and Mary. We danced, we talked, we caroled, we laughed.

The morning dawned crisp and clear. A blue sky day Vermont skiers prize.

"Mary, join me," I asked.

"Dad needs help cleaning up from the party," Mary said. "I'll see you tonight."

Her wink would bring me back for sure.

The slopes were outstanding! So cold, the snow made a squeaky noise under my skis.

With the roads plowed after skiing, everything looked different. Couldn't find the Inn. Stopped at a store.

"That place has been closed for several years," the clerk said with a funny look. "The owner's daughter stopped earlier also looking for directions."

I found the Inn, and a car stuck like I'd been. I fought through the drift to the driver's door.

Years later, Mark and Mary would tell their kids about the rescue, leaving out the part about the party at the Inn.