The Adventures Of Bette Porter And Sissee Gardner After Yale (Part 2, Chapter1)

PART TWO: Mammoth Lakes, California

Chapter 1

I graduated from Yale with a major in English Language and Literature. I knew I wanted to someday write the so-called America’s Greatest Novel. Of course I did – but meanwhile I thought newspaper work would get me started plus, I needed to grab life by the balls so I would have something to write about.

I headed west for California hoping to get a job at the Los Angeles Post. It had a national, even international reputation and I figured that was for me. I was young, brash and fearless and I believed I could just walk in, ask for a job and get it.

Guess what? I was right.

My Yale degree was a big asset and helped me get a by-line in the Travel Section of the paper. I was terribly excited about it because it meant I would be getting paid to travel extensively which would also open up endless opportunities for new experiences.

I had been on the job for about six months when my editor asked me to do a story on skiing up at Mammoth Mountain. I always took a photographer with me on my trips and this time I requested Skip Williams who was not only good at his craft but also good in bed.

It took us about six hours to drive up to Mammoth. It had been raining in L.A. and that always meant fresh powder in the mountains. In fact, we had to put chains on my VW bus at 6,000 feet with a lazy snowfall, slowing us down.

But we got to Mammoth Lakes at dusk and found a veritable winter wonderland. The snow was so fluffy and clean it made you want to scoop up a handful and let it melt in your mouth.

We had reservations at the Mammoth Mountain Inn. After we checked in to our respective rooms we had promised to meet for cocktails in the bar.

I got there first and ordered a hot buttered rum which warmed me nicely as I left the bar and wandered into the lobby where I had seen a huge fireplace blazing with a crackling wood fire. At and near the fireplace was a scattered group of beautiful people, some still in ski pants and sweaters, others in cable knits and woolen slacks. Most had a drink in their hands as conversation enveloped the room.

I stopped for a moment and watched them with interest, thinking to use the scene in my story. I scanned the faces and then hesitated, backing up to one in particular. There was a woman I thought I recognized.

I stepped closer. She had curly auburn hair that cascaded down her shoulders. She was wearing a red turtle neck sweater below which were black ski pants. For a moment she turned and I saw her lift her face with laughter. I saw those incredible doe eyes, that classic straight nose,  those generous lips and I knew those beautiful features could only belong to Bette Porter.

Just as I realized it was her, she glanced my way.