Snow Falling on Bluegrass by Molly Harper Page B

elephant’s trunk. These people need our help. So, please, give me something, give me an idea, the hint of an idea, a brain spasm that might lead to a campaign that will rescue them from traumatic vacations.”
    Jacob raised his hand. Sadie pointed at him. “Jake, I swear by Colonel Sanders’s floppy black tie, if you bring up facial hair, I will make you sleep outside.”
    Jacob smirked, but he was smart enough to school his features into the appearance of embarrassment. “How about, ‘Kentucky: Save Yourself from the Same Old Vacation?’ ”
    â€œWell, that’s more of a regurgitation of my impassioned speech, but I’ll take it,” Sadie said, writing the proposed theme in neat block letters on the idea board. She rummaged in her magic tote box and threw him an iTunes gift card. “Congratulations, Jacob, you get the gift of music . . . which you will be able to enjoy once the electricity comes back on. Now, who has another idea? One that isn’t based on something I said?”
    And with that mild bribe, Sadie’s enthusiasm was contagious. While our colleagues may have grumbled when Sadie started the meeting, they were now gamely applying themselves to the info packets she’d provided, raising their hands, making suggestions, punning as if their lives depended on it. You just couldn’t help but get pulled in when Sadie got on a roll. (She knew about the staff’s weakness for legal downloads.)
    This was part of Sadie’s evil management voodoo. Yes, she was demanding, exacting, and sometimes just a little nuts, but she also knew how to encourage people. She knew how to keep them motivated, even if it was with something as simple as caffeine, carbs, and classic rock.
    One day, I would learn her ways, and I would rule the world.

    While several of my colleagues chose napping in front of the fireplace as Sadie’s scheduled afternoon “free time” activity, I chose to explore the lodge and forage for potential supplies. My plan was to build up stock for the black market operation I would open up as my coworkers became more desperate for luxury items like chocolate, toothpaste, and dry socks.
    Or I would just hoard all the chocolate and socks for myself. Either way.
    I carried a large duffel bag as I wandered around the guest floors, picking up random items like extra toilet paper rolls and towels from the janitorial closet. I felt like a postapocalyptic scavenger, or at the very least one of those crazy ladies who smuggle out hotel linens in their suitcases. But I figured it didn’t count as looting as long as the KCT paid its bill. I eventually meandered to the third floor, where I found a large rec room stocked with pool tables and Ping-Pong equipment. There were several large, comfortable couches and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the lake. The view of the vast white lake would have been beautiful if the room hadn’t been so freaking cold. I opened a storage closet and found a veritable jackpot of snowed-in activities. Scrabble, Rook, the Game of Life, Boggle, and Monopoly. There was more than enough stuff here to keep my coworkers happily occupied.
    Stuffing the game boxes into my bag, I scanned the room for any other useful items. But unless we found a way to hand-crank a flat-screen TV, we were probably out of luck. It was a shame, really, that we wouldn’t be able to make use of this beautiful space. But the windows let a crazy amount of cold leak into the room, and this happened to be one of the few communal spaces that didn’t have a fireplace.
    I frowned as I walked into the hall and closed the door behind me. Maybe I could come back to this room next year, I thought, assuming that we all survived this ordeal and Sadie was allowed to take us more than ten feet outside the office.
    Finding your way around in a darkened hotel is more challenging than it sounds. As the light outside faded and I