"I've been exploring," Jane said. "And I'm amazed. This is really some place you could just move into and live in. There are jigsaw puzzles in the cabinets over there. And extra blankets and pillows and even a vacuum and cleaning supplies, besides the extra boots and mittens, in the closet by the front door." She paused warily. "This doesn't mean anybody expects me to clean, does it?"

"No. But normally there isn't any daily maid service. The units are only cleaned thoroughly between guests. Of course, we're an exception because they're trying to sell us on the place and we're getting the VIP treatment."

"I'd guess, though, that the real cream in the fridge is your doing."

Just then the girls stumbled into the living room, sleep-stupid but eager. "Mom! Isn't this place great?" Katie asked, running a set of mauve-taloned fingers through her tangled hair.

Shelley's daughter, Denise, forgot for a moment that she was a teenager and not only sat down next to her mother, but leaned into a hug.

"It's wonderful, Katie. What are you girls doing today? Trying out for parts in a horror movie?"

"Huh?"

"Your fingernails," Jane explained.

Katie held her hands out and stared at them as if they didn't belong to her. "Euuw, gross! Fungus city!"

"We met this ski instructor yesterday—" Denise said.

They both squealed in ecstasy.

"He said he'd give us a lesson if we'd come over there," Katie continued.

"Where is over there?" Jane asked.

"Down the road. We take the shuttle. Nobody even has to drive us. We just need lift tickets and money for ski rental and boots and poles and lunch—"

"About ten dollars, then?" Jane asked.

"Ten dollars! Mom!"

Shelley intervened. "Girls, everything you want to do here is free and there's lots to do. Starting with breakfast. Go get dressed and you can come down to the lodge with us." When they'd gone, she said, "I saw the ski instructor in question yesterday. He's a thirty-five-year-old lech."