The Millionaire's Winter Kiss

Flight to the Future

Sheila's heart raced as she wheeled her suitcase down the narrow airplane aisle, searching for her seat. The cabin was alive with the hum of conversations, the rustling of newspapers, and the muted thud of carry-ons being stowed away. The reality of what she was doing—flying halfway across the world to chase a dream—finally hit her. It wasn't just an idea anymore; it was happening.

She slid into her window seat, her breath catching as she looked out at the tarmac. The plane was massive, its wings stretching out like a promise to carry her far beyond the familiar mountains of Montana. Sheila buckled her seatbelt, her fingers trembling slightly with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

A young man in his twenties plopped down in the seat next to her, offering a friendly smile. "First time flying?"

Sheila shook her head, managing a small laugh. "No, but it's the first time flying this far. I'm headed to Italy for the winter."

"Nice! Vacation or work?" he asked, leaning back in his seat.

"Work, actually," Sheila replied, a note of pride creeping into her voice. "I'm going to be a snowboarding instructor in the Italian Alps."

The guy's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, that's awesome! I'm just going to visit family in Rome. You're living the dream."

"Trying to," Sheila said with a smile, though her thoughts were already drifting to the mountains that awaited her. "I've been snowboarding since I was a kid, and it's always been my dream to teach. This is... it feels like the start of something big."

"Well, good luck," he said, giving her a thumbs-up before turning his attention to his phone.

As the plane taxied down the runway, Sheila's stomach fluttered with anticipation. She pressed her forehead against the cool window, watching the ground blur as they gained speed. There was a rush of power as the plane lifted off, the world dropping away beneath them. She held her breath, feeling that familiar thrill of leaving the ground, of breaking free from the ties that bound her to the earth.

For a moment, her thoughts drifted back to Bridger's Hollow, to her mother's tearful smile and the comforting scent of pinewood that clung to their cabin. She wondered if her mother was okay, if she was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, thinking about Sheila and missing her already. The thought tugged at her heart, but she pushed it aside. This was what she wanted, what she needed—to step out of the shadow of grief and into a future that was hers to shape.

The seatbelt sign dinged off, and Sheila let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The flight attendants began their rounds, offering drinks and snacks, but Sheila barely noticed. Her mind was already racing ahead, imagining the snow-covered peaks of the Alps, the crisp air filling her lungs, the rush of wind against her face as she carved down the slopes.

She reached into her backpack and pulled out her journal, the one her father had given her for her sixteenth birthday. The leather cover was worn, the pages filled with years of dreams, doodles, and half-formed ideas. She flipped to a blank page, the pen poised in her hand.

Flight to the Future, she wrote at the top, smiling at how perfectly it captured this moment. Below it, she started to list her goals—small ones, like mastering Italian, and big ones, like opening her own snowboarding school someday. The act of writing them down made them feel more real, more attainable. Her father always said that putting your dreams on paper was the first step to making them come true.

Sheila leaned back in her seat, her fingers tracing the words on the page. "This is it, Dad," she whispered under her breath. "I'm really doing it."

The hours passed in a haze of thoughts and daydreams. Sheila watched as the night sky darkened outside the window, the stars glittering like distant promises. Somewhere over the Atlantic, she drifted off to sleep, her head resting against the seatback, the journal clutched in her hands.

In her dreams, she was already there, standing on a ridge in the Alps, the world spread out before her in endless white. She could feel the rush of cold air, hear the crunch of snow beneath her boots, and the thrill of possibility surged through her veins.

When she woke, the first light of dawn was breaking over the horizon, a soft glow that painted the sky in shades of pink and gold. Sheila rubbed her eyes, her heart swelling with the realization that she was almost there.

The captain's voice crackled over the intercom, announcing their descent into Milan. Sheila's pulse quickened as she packed away her journal and looked out the window. The mountains in the distance called to her, their jagged peaks cutting through the clouds like a beacon.

As the plane touched down, Sheila felt a surge of adrenaline, a jolt that reminded her of the moment just before dropping into a steep run. The world was waiting for her, full of unknown challenges and opportunities. She was ready to face them, to carve her own path, and to see where it would lead.

With her feet back on solid ground, Sheila took a deep breath, the air tinged with a hint of unfamiliarity and excitement. The adventure she had been dreaming of was no longer just a fantasy. It was real, it was happening, and she was ready to embrace every moment of it.

Sheila stepped off the bus and onto the snow-packed ground, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the view before her. The Italian Alps stretched out in every direction, their jagged peaks piercing the sky, draped in pristine white. The air was crisp and clean, each breath filling her lungs with a sense of renewal and possibility.

She had seen mountains before, of course—Montana's Rockies were no small feat—but these... these were different. The Alps had a grandeur, a raw, unyielding presence that was both awe-inspiring and humbling. Sheila stood still for a moment, her suitcase forgotten at her feet, just soaking it all in.

"First time in the Alps?" a cheerful voice asked, breaking her reverie.

Sheila turned to see a woman in her early thirties, bundled in a thick parka, her cheeks pink from the cold. She had a friendly smile and an air of easy confidence.

"Yeah," Sheila replied, nodding as she picked up her suitcase. "I've been around mountains all my life, but nothing like this. It's... breathtaking."

The woman laughed, her breath puffing out in white clouds. "You never really get used to it, even if you've been here for years. I'm Anna, by the way. You must be Sheila, the new instructor?"

Sheila smiled, extending her hand. "That's me. Nice to meet you, Anna."

Anna shook her hand warmly. "Nice to meet you too. We've been expecting you. Welcome to the team! Come on, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

As they walked through the small village, Sheila's eyes darted everywhere, trying to take in all the details. The village was picture-perfect, with its quaint chalets nestled against the backdrop of towering mountains. Smoke curled up from chimneys, and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses spilled out from a nearby café. It was like something out of a postcard, too perfect to be real.

"This place is amazing," Sheila murmured, more to herself than to Anna.

Anna grinned. "Yeah, it has that effect on people. It's why most of us come here for a season and end up staying for years."

They reached a small, cozy-looking chalet at the edge of the village. It was built of dark wood, with a steep roof and snow-laden eaves. Icicles hung from the edges like delicate crystal daggers. Anna pushed open the door, ushering Sheila inside.

"Here we are," Anna said as they stepped into the warmth of the chalet. The interior was simple but welcoming, with a small kitchen, a living area, and a stone fireplace crackling with a cheerful fire. "It's nothing fancy, but it's comfortable. You'll be sharing with another instructor, Lena, but she's out on the slopes right now."

Sheila dropped her suitcase by the door and took a deep breath, the smell of pine wood and something baking in the oven filling her senses. "It's perfect," she said, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. This place, this little corner of the world, was going to be her home for the next few months, and it already felt like a good fit.

Anna walked over to the kitchen and grabbed two mugs, pouring steaming cups of hot cocoa. She handed one to Sheila, who accepted it gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic.

"So, tell me, what made you come all the way to Italy?" Anna asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Sheila stared into her mug, watching the steam rise. "I guess I just needed a change. After my dad passed, I felt like I was stuck, like I wasn't really living. Snowboarding has always been my escape, and when the opportunity came up to teach here, it felt like the right move. Like I was finally doing something for myself."

Anna nodded, her expression softening. "That's a good reason. This place has a way of healing people, helping them find what they're looking for. I think you'll fit right in."

Sheila smiled, feeling a little lighter at those words. "I hope so. I'm ready to make the most of it."

Anna raised her mug in a mock toast. "Here's to new beginnings, then. May they be everything you need them to be."

They clinked their mugs together, and Sheila felt a surge of warmth—not just from the cocoa, but from the sense of belonging that was already starting to take root. The Alps might be unfamiliar, but they were also full of promise, of new horizons waiting to be explored.

After finishing their drinks, Anna showed Sheila to her room, a small but cozy space with a window that framed the mountains like a painting. As Sheila unpacked her suitcase, she paused every now and then to glance outside, each look reaffirming that she had made the right choice.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped behind the peaks, casting long shadows across the village, Sheila stood at the window, the last light of day reflecting off the snow in a dazzling display. The future was wide open, like the vast alpine horizons before her. And for the first time in a long while, Sheila felt truly excited for what was to come.