Page 57 of The Jinglebell War
“We can’t get there that way.” I know this resort like my face. All the slopes and runs, even the out-of-bounds back country runs my siblings and I did when we were on our own, are imprinted forever on my memory.
Mom’s grin is effervescent. “We can now. Come on.”
I shrug and follow, hoping she’s not losing cognitive function in her advanced age.
When I see the shiny new lift in a part of the resort that used to only be forest, I stop short. Mom laughs at my expression.
“When the hell did this happen?” Growing up here, the only way to ski the back bowl was to hike up. It was a pain but also a great way to keep out less experienced skiers.
“This is the first year it’s operational.”
“It was my idea.” Hudson skis up, his smile as wide as my mother’s. “Makes a day on the bowl a hell of a lot easier.”
I just stare at the lift. I’d imagined this place never changing, like it was frozen in time until I came back.
“Last one up is a loser!” Mav shouts as he skis past us and into the lift line. Not that there’s anyone in line. Riverton Resort covers over 3500 acres and has 200 trails. Even at our busiest, the lift lines stay pretty short and right now, two weeks before the Christmas holiday, is not a busy time for the resort.
“Come on,” Hudson says. “Let’s see if you still got it.”
I look over at Mom and she waves me off. “Go with your brother. I’m sure your father won’t be far behind these two.”
“He’s bringing up the rear with Cal,” Hudson says.
“Don’t tell me Cal convinced Dad to try boarding.” Cal is a devoted snowboarder and the only reason he or Dad, for that matter, would be bringing up the rear is if Dad’s finally trying it out.
Hudson’s expression is grim as he skis toward the lift. “Dad’s on skis. He’s just slower than he used to be.”
Somehow, being back on these slopes from my childhood, I’d forgotten Dad isn’t the athletic man he used to be. If it were anyone else, I’d be surprised a man in his condition would be out here today at all, but I doubt anything short of being in a coma would keep Dad off the slopes.
“Bite your tongue,” Mom says.
I laugh with Hudson as I follow him to the lift, but it feels hollow. How much have I missed?
“Where’s your woman?” he asks as soon as we’re seated and headed up.
I take a moment to enjoy this new view of the mountain before I look over at my brother. “She’s back at the lodge. She’s not ready for the bowl.”
He nods. “How’d the lesson go?”
“Not great. She’s got the worst balance on skis of anyone I’ve ever seen.”
His brows disappear beneath the lip of his helmet. “You should take her out to do something else. Don’t make her sit in the lodge all alone after a miserable morning.”
“Mom thinks I should dump her for not being into the family sport.”
Hudson snorts. “Mom thinks we should all be single and do whatever she says for the rest of our lives.”
“You’d date a woman who can’t ski?”
His expression turns wistful. “I’d date anyone who’d put up with my long hours and overbearing family. I like Blue. She’s chill and she’s funny. You need more of that in your life.”
I stare at him. “The family trouble maker needs someone chill and funny? I thought you’d say I need someone to keep me in line.”
“Nah. That’s what Dad would say. You were always getting into trouble, but you never seemed to have fun with it. It was more like you were trying to prove something. You need someone who has your back, which she obviously does, and you need someone who can help you realize you’ve already proven everything that matters, and it’s time to have some fun.”
“She’s mayor of Yuletide. She’s driven and ambitious. I know she can seem like a party girl, but she’s—”
He holds up his hands, ski pole straps around his wrists. “Dude. I get it. She’s great. But she can be ambitious and also fun. She can be serious and also the kind of woman who reminds you to let go of the last of your fucks and have a good time for once in your life.”
