What begins as a kind of Theater of the Absurd mystery of mistaken identity at an off-season California ski resort gradually morphs into something strangely sweet: a sort of Magic Realism rom-com about the roads taken and not taken. Nebraskans Vanessa and Brian are on a 20^th anniversary vacation, hoping to improve the great compromise that is their marriage. She’s a librarian, he’s…surprisingly excited by the prospect of photographing the butterfly that flits across the backdrop at the play’s outset, just as the resort restaurant’s door opens by itself.

Once inside, the very Librarian Vanessa is hailed with great joy by chef/proprietress Camelia as the mysterious and magnificent Annabella — who normally visits only in January for the ski season. It’s strange that Camelia describes life at the resort as akin to living in a dungeon, but never mind that: it’s time for a round of is-she-or-isn’t-she that threatens to enter Waiting for Godot territory, so recursive it become, spelling out its dilemmas in maddening detail without ever ceasing to be baffling. But this much is clear: all three of the resort’s occupants believe that Vanessa is Annabella, and that Annabella is their one great love. If the suggestion is upsetting to Vanessa, it’s even harder on poor Brian, who doesn’t want her talking to men handsomer than himself, let alone visiting California resorts and carrying on with them.

What seems like a breakthrough at the end of Act One proves to be more of an Inception-style entry into a new headspace (heartspace?), but at least the stakes are clearer. Bruce Turk gets to have the most fun and elicit the most laughs as the would-be lover with the outrageous French accent, but only because he gets an excellent straight man in Louis Lotorto’s Brian. Jacquelyn Ritz does well to hold her own as the confused and confusing sun about which the two men whirl.