Slippery Slopes Read Online Free PDF Page A

and people want something original. Three, you come first, so don’t forget to deal with what you want, too.”
    “And you?”
    “I have to find a computer and see if I can get to William sooner than planned.”
    “I wish I had one to lend you, but …” Melissa thinks. “Any public terminals?”
    Dove shakes her head, momentarily sidelined. Then she gets it. “I know—Matron. She has that massive wall of them in her office.”
    Melissa looks at Dove like she’s gone crazy. “Um, yeah, in her private, off-limits office.” She stands up, clears her cup and saucer, and warns Dove. “Don’t let love send you packing. And by that I mean, Don’t get busted. I need you here.”

5
    D OLLY’S WAREHOUSE HULKS INTO the white sky, the brick exterior set back from the street and filled to the brim with trinkets and treasures. Once inside, Melissa takes a form and miniature pencil, along with her budget notes, and begins searching for ideas for the ball. If Dove says the scavenger hunt isn’t a big deal, fine. We can just give coupons for prizes, or bags of candy — something small. But the Winter Wonderland Ball is something else.
    Pictures from balls past lined the walls of the Main House. Dating back to the 1920s, the balls had been major affairs, complete with horse-drawn carriages, exquisite dresses, and themes that rivaled Hollywood award shows. Three years ago the whole resort had been turned into Venice, Italy, with the snow colored blue to look like water and sleds made to look like gondolas. The year after that had been Snowflake, with a three-ring circus of events, each one more elaborate than the last. But last year’s event is the one that Melissa can’t shake off. How can I compete with a murder mystery party that was so intricately planned that international papers were convinced the death was real and picked the story up, only to have it turned into a movie? The girl who’d planned that was whisked off to Los Angeles to come up with other ideas for films.
    “Can I help you?” a salesman with a mustache asks Melissa.
    “Just looking,” she says. “For the Winter Wonderland Ball,” she adds, so he doesn’t think she’s browsing for no reason. As soon as she says that, his face changes.
    “Ohh, planning the ball. Come this way.”
    From his pocket he produces an old-fashioned skeleton key and leads Melissa behind trays of jewelry, boxes overflowing with expensive perfumes, and gift bags filled with name-brand clothing and sporting gear.
    “Where are we going?” Melissa asks, more than a little wary of following this salesman to God knows where all by herself. “No offense, but I have to get going on this project. And I’m meant to be at the chair lift in an hour.” Skiing with the professional ski team, Melissa thinks, remembering breakfast and how it was all she could do not to crawl across the table and into James’ lap, telling him everything. Instead, she took Matron’s advice and regaled the team with stories to make them laugh—mainly at her own expense. The time she fell off the lift and wound up in someone’s lap, the time her snow pants ripped on the way down and caused a big draft. They’d laughed at those tales, even James—though he refused to look at her. It’s like I repulse him, Melissa thinks as she hesitantly follows the salesman through a creaky metal door. If I were Charlie or Dove, I’m sure James wouldn’t look away. Gabe, meanwhile, had given her more than one lascivious look, as if to announce to the entire table that he’d kissed her, that he’d gotten to her first.
    “Here we are. Backstage.”
    Melissa steps inside the cavernous room and gasps, the sound echoing over the amazing spread before her. “Whoa. Wow. Wow again.”
    “Feel free to look around—and when you decide on a theme, let me know.”
    To her left are life-sized elephants made out of papier-mâché. To her right, a full-sized merry-go-round. In front of her, animals of all shapes and