The Man Most Likely

Chapter Three

The Al Johnson Memorial Uphill Downhill Race commemorated the exploits of a pioneering mail carrier, but in typical Crested Butte fashion, it featured competitors in zany costumes, a carnival atmosphere and an excuse for locals and visitors alike to party.

While Angela wouldn’t be caught dead barreling up a six-hundred-foot incline while dressed in a large, pink bunny costume or similar outlandish garb, she was happy to volunteer her services handing out hot chocolate to race participants and fans at the base of the Silver Queen lift. From there, participants made their way to the starting point at the bottom of the North Face lift. Racers could choose to ski the entire course by themselves, but many opted to form relay teams, with one racer handling the uphill portion, the other the downhill. Keeping with the spirit of commemorating Al Johnson’s legacy, the uphill racer had to deliver a letter to his or her team member.

Other than that, anything went, and did. As she dispensed paper cups of cocoa, Angela saw teams dressed as a hot dog and a jar of mustard, Betty and Barney Rubble, twin tigers and Batman and Robin.

“Zephyr looks almost ordinary in this crowd,” said Trish Sanders, who was serving coffee next to Angela.

“Is he racing?” Angela asked. Though she’d never personally met the colorful snowboarder and rock guitarist turned talk-show host, Zephyr was the kind of person it was impossible to ignore.

“No, he’s filming for his show. Oh, there he is. With Max.” Trish pointed to where the blond-dreadlocked boarder was interviewing a burly skier who was dressed in a Colorado Avalanche hockey uniform.

Max Overbridge owned the snowboard and bicycle shop just down from the Chocolate Moose. A second man in a hockey uniform joined him. “Who’s that?” Angela asked.

“Eric Sepulveda, a ski patroller,” Trish said. “Looks like he and Max have teamed up for the race.”

“Can a thirsty volunteer get a drink here?” A petite woman with a short cap of white-blond hair approached the refreshment booths. She was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever who wore a red search-and-rescue vest.

“Casey!” Trish leaned over the table to hug the blonde, then turned to introduce Angela. “You know Casey Overbridge, right? Max’s wife?”

“I’m one of her best customers,” Casey said. She accepted a cup of hot chocolate from Angela.

“Are you and your dog working today?” Angela asked, nodding at the Lab.

“We’re on call,” Casey said. “Though I hope we don’t have to rescue anyone. Mainly Lucy and I are here as publicity for Search and Rescue.” She patted the black Lab, who grinned up at her and wagged her tail.

Casey straightened and looked past Angela. “Bryan!” she called and waved.

“Hey, Casey.”

Angela’s stomach fluttered at the sound of the familiar low voice behind her. Then Bryan was standing beside her, handsome in a blue-and-gray sweater over gray pants and black boots. She smoothed the fake-fur collar of her parka, glad she’d decided on the curve-hugging wool skirt instead of jeans.

“Hello, Angela,” he said, his eyes meeting hers.

“Hi, Bryan.”

“You aren’t racing?” Casey asked.

Bryan shook his head. “The hotel’s hosting the awards ceremony,” he said. “I’m coordinating that.”

“How do you like your new job?” Casey asked.

“It’s good.”

“Do people always dress so strangely for this?” An older man joined them. He, too, wore a sweater over gray pants. A name tag identified him as Carl Phelps, manager of the Elevation Hotel. He stared as a large carton of French fries and a bottle of ketchup skied past.

“This is pretty normal for any kind of Crested Butte celebration,” Bryan said.

“They certainly don’t have anything like this in Michigan,” Carl said, as a man in a flowered housedress over long underwear accepted a cup of coffee from Trish.

“They don’t have anything like this anywhere else,” Bryan said. “It’s one of the things that makes Crested Butte special.”

“Or at least different,” Carl conceded. He turned to Bryan. “Is everything ready for the awards ceremony?”

“It’s all set,” Bryan said.

“I’ll be filming the whole thing for my show.” Zephyr joined them and held up his video camera. “A hundred percent digital and state of the art.”

“Sweet.” Bryan examined the camera. “Where did you get this?”

“Trish gave it to me for Christmas.” Zephyr grinned at his girlfriend, who beamed back. “It pays to hook up with the right woman.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Casey said.

“Too sweet for me,” Angela said. “And I’m a woman who loves sugar.”

“Everything seems to be running smoothly here,” Carl said. He clapped a hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “You and I have business to attend to inside.”

Bryan’s expression clouded, but he quickly assumed an all-business attitude. “Of course.” He nodded to the group. “I’ll see you all at the awards ceremony.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Casey said.

“I’d better get busy, too.” Zephyr shouldered the camera once more. “I’m going to film the uphill and downhill segments of the race.”

“I can’t get used to seeing Bryan with his nose to the grindstone,” Trish said. “Any other year, he’d be out there with Zephyr, clowning around with the racers.”

“Some of us do have to work for a living,” Angela said. For some reason she felt the need to defend Bryan. There were worse things than a guy hanging up his beer steins for gainful employment.

“Yes, everyone has to grow up sometime.” Trish laughed. “Except, of course, Zephyr.”

Angela studied her friend as Trish turned to serve coffee to a couple of tourists. Like Angela, Trish had her own successful business. She was known around town as a smart woman who had everything going for her. People were still scratching their heads over her relationship with the lovable but extremely laid-back Zephyr. Angela figured it had to be true love. Why else would two such different people be drawn together?

“Angela, tell me more about this theater fund-raiser,” Casey said. “I saw some flyers around town.”

“The money will go to license new scripts and pay for new scenery and costumes,” Angela said. “And we’d like to offer a summer program for children.”

“Will you be supplying the chocolate?” Casey asked.

“Of course.”

“Then I am so there,” Casey said.

“Bryan’s helping you put this together, isn’t he?” Trish asked, rejoining the conversation.

“Yes. He’s the liaison at the hotel.”

Trish nodded. “Zephyr mentioned it. Apparently, he’s decided he needs to fix Bryan up with someone. He was asking me last night if I knew any single women who would be a good match for him.”