~Milan Kundera, Immortality
~Robert Louis Stevenson
"Each suite has a private, deluxe bath, two-person Jacuzzi, fireplace, daily maid service and a full breakfast. Guest accommodations include a heated, indoor pool, hot tub and sauna, fitness equipment, spa and massage services..."
Pete Shasta felt his beloved wife of five years glance at him from the passenger's seat. Lisa read from the brochure for Honeymoon Haven Inn, a romantic hideaway in the woods in upper northwest Wisconsin that attracted skiers and honeymooners. But he didn't take his gaze from the winter-slick roads.
The blizzard had started slowly that morning until it'd worked itself into a winter squall. By either luck or curse, he'd gotten behind a snowplow a few miles into town. Because Pete was following the plow, the road was in much better condition than those driving before it. That wasn't saying much under the circumstances. The stress of following the vehicle in the blizzard howling around them had him so on-edge, he didn't feel comfortable glancing away from the road ahead for an instant.
"You want a massage, baby, I'm your man," he murmured. They passed another car that had gone off the road, but a police officer had already arrived to help.
Lisa chuckled, continuing to read out loud about the full service restaurant, access to ice fishing, seven miles of cross-country skiing on groomed trails and snowmobile trails. Pete didn't intend to take advantage of anything beyond the privacy of their romantic suite. And maybe room service when they needed re-fueling. If we ever get there.
Just before he passed through a bright orange gate similar to those parks used to close up for the night, the plow turned off the road, leaving him to his own fate. They were almost there now. Slow and steady wins the race.