Page 56 of The Jinglebell War
“She’s fine.” Mom doesn’t say another word until we’re on the gondola that will take us to another lift that will take us to a spot where we can hike up to drop into the bowl.
Of course, we get a gondola car to ourselves. It’s one of the many perks of being the owner of the resort.
I think I’m in the clear and am preparing to make the requisite small talk when Mom leans forward. “Please tell me you aren’t serious about that girl.”
I was always that kid who took criticism from my parents to heart. I took it to heart, then said ‘fuck it’ and did the complete opposite of whatever they wanted. “You don’t even know her. Blue is a good person. She’s kind and funny and ambitious. All of which you’d know if you gave her a real chance.” The idea that my mother could find fault with Blue as a match for me is mind-boggling.
Mom’s eyes widen. “You’re serious about her.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m serious about her or not. You don’t know her well enough to suggest she’s not good enough for me. Unless you’re judging her based on her pink hair or her lack of wealth, but I’ve never known you to be judgy like that.” She honestly never has been to my knowledge. When I was a teenager, she would have been happy for me to date anyone if it would have kept me out of trouble and in school.
“I know she doesn’t like to ski.” Mom purses her lips and leans back in her seat. “Can you imagine a Riverton with a partner who doesn’t like to ski, or at least board? She’d be miserable living here.”
My mother is old school enough to believe skiing is far superior to boarding, even though three of her sons are avid snowboarders. “I’m not a Riverton anymore.”
Her gasp and hurt look make me regret my words almost immediately. I’d just assumed my father would have discovered that in his research of me and that he’d have told my mother.
“What I mean is,” I say gently, “I don’t get onto the slopes very often anymore, and I’m not working for the business. It won’t be a problem for me to have a partner who doesn’t like to ski.”
Mom smooths her ski pants with her gloved hands. We’re close to the top and I figure that’s the end of the conversation, but I’ve forgotten how much my mother likes to have the last word.
“You’re not working for the family currently, but you are still a part of this family and someday, you’ll be back here. You need a partner who loves this mountain as much as we do. A partner who spends her time productively.”
The gondola opens on those last words. A shot, I’m sure, at Blue for reading celebrity gossip. Mom gets out of the gondy car before I can answer.
Which is probably for the best. As annoyed as I am, I’m not likely to say the right thing. I get that Mom just wants me back in the fold and she thinks the right partner will bring me back to them. She’s wrong, but her heart’s in the right place.
I wish it would be in the place of wanting whatever makes me happy instead of just thinking about what she wants, but that’ll never be my mother. She’s warm and loving, but she’s also the kind of person who goes after everything she wants with blind determination. She’s convinced herself what she wants is best for me.
Trying to convince her otherwise would be a waste of time.
The next lift is a standard chair that takes us higher into the mountains. Mom talks about the season, how much snow they’ve gotten and how visitor numbers are looking, like we didn’t just have a fight about the woman I’m dating. Pretend dating.
That’s Mom. She’ll let it drop for now, but it’ll never be forgotten.
I listen, glad to hear that the business is doing well, and take in the views. I feel the beauty of this place down to my soul. Yuletide is only twenty minutes away, but Sugar Valley will always feel like home.
Today, even the branches of the pine trees are snow-covered, the mountain peaks in the distance lit by a bright sun, the sky a brilliant blue without a cloud in sight.
The lift carries us over the bra tree, where skiers have for years thrown bras, beads, panties, and whatever else they feel like tossing there. Today there’s a pair of neon pink boxer shorts hanging from a branch.
I chuckle at the sight. “Some things never change.”
Mom sighs. “And some things do. I’m going to miss this place.”
I swing my head to look at her, shocked, but the lift has reached the top. We disembark, and I grab Mom’s arm and pull her to the side before she skis off. “Are you moving?”
Her eyes widen. “Why on earth would we move?”
“You said you’re going to miss this place.”
Relief brightens her expression. “When we retire. Your father has some idea of seeing the world, so we won’t be here as often.”
She skis away, and I follow a moment later, feeling off my axis. Hudson told me they were retiring, but I can’t imagine them not here.
Whether or not I want to admit it, my parents are getting older. As much as they drive me crazy, I’m an adult now with a life of my own. Maybe it’s time to let go of a lot of my shit if it means I get to see more of them.
I almost fly past Mom before I realize she’s stopped and waiting for me. She lifts one arm, ski pole in hand, and waves me over. “This way.”
