Ethan

  The drive to Silver Ridge was nothing short of breathtaking.

  The mountains loomed large overhead, their peaks dusted with snow. The road followed the contours of the land, curving around hills and dipping into valleys, offering glimpses of distant ridgelines and slumbering meadows.

  I caught her in the rearview, Samantha rolled down her window slightly, letting in a breeze that tousled her hair. She looked out at the passing scenery, a contented smile playing on her lips. “It’s beautiful here,” she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

  “Yeah, it is,” I agreed, adjusting my eyes back to the road. “This place has a way of making you forget about everything else. It’s peaceful.”

  I glance back to my rearview I to see Samantha staring at me. We exchanged some witty banter but I lost track of it as I caught glances of Samantha’s eyes.

  Geez the woman was just striking.

  I turned back to the road determined not to look at Samantha’s eyes and eventually we settled back into silence.

  We drove in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the occasional laughter from the backseat. As we climbed higher into the mountains, the views became even more spectacular, with deep valleys and twisting rivers roaring with both winter runoff and rain.

  Silver Ridge was getting closer, and with it came the sense that we were leaving behind the simplicity of the campsite for something more complex. The town might be high-end, but it was more than just luxury; it was a place where people like Victoria and Samantha felt at home. And for today, at least, they were inviting us into their world.

  As we continued our drive, the landscape began to shift subtly. The trees grew denser, their trunks thicker and more ancient, as if they had been standing guard over these mountains for centuries. The road widened slightly as we neared Silver Ridge, and the first signs of the town started to appear. We noticed small cabins tucked away in the forest, their chimneys puffing out thin trails of smoke, and the occasional rustic sign pointing to trailheads or scenic overlooks. Bigger homes and bigger estates appeared and passed many a fancy car. I continued to drive.

  It was then that Samantha began to talk. It was like we were on a guided tour.

  I’ve been coming to the area for years, and I know about Silver Ridge—kind of. I know it's rich. I know it's exclusive. What I didn’t know was that Silver Ridge was divided into two distinct parts: the Old Town and the Mountain Village. According to Samantha, the Old Town was the heart of the community that had been around since the early 1700s, a place where history met charm. It was nestled in a valley at the base of the mountains, its streets lined with historic buildings that had been carefully preserved over the years. The architecture was a mix of old Victorian houses, quaint shops, and small cafés with outdoor seating. Cobblestone streets wound through the town, leading to a central square where a grand old clock tower stood as a reminder of a bygone era.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  The Old Town had a timeless quality to it, as if it had been plucked straight from the past and set down in the middle of these rugged mountains. It was the kind of place where you could lose yourself for hours, wandering through bookstores filled with rare editions or sipping coffee at a corner café while watching the world go by.

  But beyond the Old Town, up the mountain, was the Mountain Village—a world entirely different yet seamlessly connected to the town below. The Mountain Village was the modern face of Silver Ridge, a luxurious retreat of interconnected construction built to cater to those seeking both adventure and comfort. The building up here were sleek and contemporary, made of glass and stone, with balconies that offered breathtaking views of the surrounding peaks. High-end boutiques, gourmet restaurants, and luxury hotels built with interconnecting bridges and elevated walkways catered to the well-heeled visitors who flocked to the area year-round.

  Mountain Village was unlike anything in the world. It was as if a medieval castle had a baby with a mall developer and clung to the mountains like fungus. Despite that rather gross description, it was pretty amazing to see.

  The two parts of the town were connected by a gondola that ran from the Old Town to the Mountain Village. The gondola looked like an experience in itself. As it glided silently over the treetops, it offered passengers a panoramic view of the entire valley, the mountains rising up on all sides like sentinels. In the winter, the gondola was packed with skiers and snowboarders eager to hit the slopes, while in the summer, it carried hikers, mountain bikers, and sightseers up to the trails that crisscrossed the higher elevations.

  As we neared the town, the girls in the backseat grew even more excited, their voices overlapping as they talked about everything they wanted to see and do. Maya and Lily had never been to Silver Ridge despite visiting the area often, and the idea of exploring a place so different from their usual surroundings had them practically vibrating with anticipation.

  “We should definitely take the gondola up to the Mountain Village,” Samantha suggested, turning to look at me with a grin. “The view is incredible, and the girls will love it.”

  I nodded, still feeling a bit uneasy but trying to push it aside. “Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, though the thought of spending the day in such a high-end place still made me a little uncomfortable. But seeing how happy it made Maya and Lily, I knew I’d go along with it, no matter how out of place I felt.

  We drove into Silver Ridge, passing quaint shops and historic buildings of the Old Town, the cobblestone streets bustling with activity. Tourists wandered in and out of stores, their arms laden with bags from local artisans and high-end retailers alike. The central square was busy, with children playing on the playground equipment around the clock tower and couples strolling hand in hand.

  The town felt alive, vibrant in a way that made it clear this was more than just a tourist destination—it was a community. Even amidst the luxury, there was a sense of warmth and welcome, a feeling that everyone was here to enjoy the beauty of the mountains and the charm of the town, no matter where they came from.

  The whole thing totally subverted my expectations.

  “Old Town first,” Victoria suggested from the backseat, her voice filled with excitement. “Do you see that parking structure over there, Ethan? I have a spot on the ground floor.”

  I pulled into the structure, and Victoria pointed out the parking spot.

  We got out of the car. “Now,” Victoria said, clapping her hands together, “There’s a little café I want to show you all. Best hot chocolate in the state, and I won’t hear any arguments.”

  Hot chocolate? Yum. No argument here.