The snowflake was thick like a piece of white cotton gauze ripped off. The ends were frayed like a dozen ripped strings. With its million friend on this dark cloudy day, it sailed diagonally towards the ground until a gust picked it up and carried it across the hot pool. The hot pool was bubbling. Foggy fingers were reaching out of it. The foggy fingers were playing in the air as if they wanted to tickle the ground hugging clouds. A cross current grabbed the snow flaked and pulled it down the driveway among the cabins.
Rachel was watching from the comfort of the lodge reception that was styled with exposed rough wood, deeply cushioned couches, and a crackling, orange-flicking fireplace. A muted TV screen was playing a golf tournament thousands of miles south to an audience of nobody. Despite the emptiness, magazines and newspapers had been arranged on the coffee table as if a reading circle had just put down the books to come back after a five minute break. A gold brimmed wall clock was slowly ticking away the hours.
A gray crossover car pulled into the parking lot. The shiny metal made it stand out among all the parked cars, which were covered under two inches of fluffy white. A tall and trim elderly man climbed out of the driver's door. A much shorter and rounder woman in soft-red snow pants and winter jacket with black boots followed him. Rachel's finger tips tabbed through the prepared check-in sheets that had been fanned out only for her to see. There was only one couple scheduled to arrive today. The automatic doors swiped open. A gust of cool air pulled into the room and tingled Rachel on the bare skin under her black pant ends.
"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell. I hope you found the drive alright despite the heavy winter weather."
Mr. Mitchell stomped his feet hard on the welcome mat. Mrs. Mitchell carefully swiped the bottoms and sides of her shoes. Mr. Mitchell led the way and held his driver license and credit card to Rachel. Rachel took both of them from his hand. Her arm was furry. Not only that, her neck had fluff as well. The black Indian hair was pulled together into a pony tail. However, on the sides of her face, she had fuzz as well. She was five feet tall. Her eyes were big and round. Her brown cheeks were round knobs. Her body was trim. Her boobs were fitting for her size. She was wearing slacks and a short sleeve dress shirt. The clothes fabric and the cut had the feel of a discount store. There was no nail polish on her finger nails. The only makeup was a red lip stick on her thin lips. Yet, her eye lashes were naturally dark as if colored with coals.
"The drive was fine. I've been living in Canada for seventy years now. The odd thing was that the freeway and town were empty like a ghost town."
"Yes, we are currently on our low season. This weekend, people will come from Calgary on their time off. We are actually completely booked this weekend. You will get the best of both worlds. Enjoy a quiet time at the pool today. Have the activity and bustle on the weekend. If you look out, there is the pool. It's a cozy 40 degrees Celsius. Behind it is a Sauna. We have a changing room downstairs. It'll probably be all yours today."
"Wonderful, we like it quiet. Our boys are out of the house. I can tell you that it is crazy growing up with two boys. They constantly are doing one mischief or another. Do you have any children of your own?"
"Oh, I'm only 25 years old. I've freshly moved here from India only three months ago. I have a sister in Montreal. If I can have your initials here and your signature there."
"Sam, you can't ask her those personal questions," chided Mrs. Mitchell.
"She also likes to be treated as a human being, not just some hotel sign in kiosk," corrected Mr. Mitchell.
"I take great pride in getting to know our customers," said Rachel in almost monotone customer service tone. Yet, her face looked flushed.
"A lot of Indians take Western names, when they come here. Is Rachel your real name?" continued Mr. Mitchell to make a point.
"My Indian name is Meena."
"I will call you that if it is alright with you?"
"Of course, Mr. Mitchell. Can I give you a bundle of kindle? There is a fireplace in your room with firewood. If you need additional firewood, there is a pile in the underground parking garage."
Mr. Mitchell tipped his winter head to thank for the information. He put the bundle of kindle under his arm. Mrs. Mitchell took control of the room key cards and compound map. They stepped out into the snow shuffle outside. The sky and tree tops were invisible in some kind of foggy gray. Snowflakes reflected the light of every street lamp, car beam, and lit window. They were like glow worms dancing through the air. The snow was whirled around as if it never wanted to settle anywhere.
Patrick, the lodge manager, stepped out of the office behind the reception desk. He walked with elegant straight legs toward Rachel. He was wearing a black dress shirt. The fabric was so fine that it had a shine to it. The cut was so smooth that it made him look bigger in presence. He put his glasses on to verify what Rachel had entered into the computer.
"Always remember to log out when you are done. It's really easy to get distracted and leave the computer open. A lot of fraud happens in the service industry. You wouldn't want someone using your credentials to commit fraud," lectured Patrick. He put down his glasses satisfied.
"Culturally, you have a lot to learn about Canadians. The Mitchells were clearly in a social mood. You should have made a little small talk with them. Ask a few friendly questions and share a little about yourself. Of course, don't do that with everyone. Some people are in a rush or very private. Always follow the lead of the guest," Patrick continued his lecture. "Show me your finger nails."
"I will work hard to be the best receptionist."
