Page 13 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
You and me both. Sounds like they got my email from Bree.
Jamie
I can make the 27th work. I’ll put it in my calendar now.
The dots jump and fall on the screen as I wait for him to say something else, but instead my phone rings.
“Hey,” I answer, sliding my earbuds into my ears and pulling up my calendar.
“Hey,” he says, an air of caution in his tone.
“What’s up?” I ask, knowing all too well he wouldn’t have called if he didn’t have something more on his mind.
“I was just wondering. These elopements. I know you love them, and I love doing them with you, but what’s your endgame here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, is this your way into the photography world? Are you hoping to take this full-time?” He sounds wary, probably because he knows how much I still secretly covet the opportunity.
“No. Not at all.”Lies. “It’s just a cool way to put my camera to use”—more lies—“and I feel like it’s a hobby that actually does someone some good, more so than taking pictures of people on chairlifts and sitting around fires in the snow.”Lies, lies, lies.He knows it too, sitting quiet a minute longer than he would if he believed a word of what I just said.
“Okay. I just—” Jamie breaks off. I know he wants to say“I just want you to be happy” or something like that. In the end, we both know it won’t change anything.
“I know.” I clear my throat. “So, the twenty-seventh is good, yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s good.”
“Start your next book yet?”
“Nah, taking a few more weeks off before I start. I’m working on a short story to pass the time.”
“Oh yeah? What about?”
“Scotland.” He says it like this isn’t a bit of a bombshell.
“Really?” I’m seriously shocked. He may have spent his first fourteen years of life in the Scottish Highlands, his now subtle accent only thickening to a true brogue when he drinks, but herarely talks about his time there, and by rarely, I meannever. He did in the early years, when we were in high school. When he’d go back on summer breaks to stay with his grandparents. But he cut his trip short the summer before we started college and shut down every attempt I made to ask him about it. He hasn’t been back since.
“Yeah. It felt like a good idea at the time. Not so sure about it now.”
“Well, I think that’s great, Jamie. You going to let me read it when you’re done?” I love getting first dibs—perks of being best friends with the author.
“I don’t know. This one might be just for me.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m here if you change your mind.”
“Thanks, Rory.”
I hum and lean back in my chair. “I better go do some real work, especially if I want to get up on the mountain this afternoon. It’s a perfect day.”
We hang up and I stand to stretch, my legs feeling stiff. I rub my arms and look out into the sunlight that’s just breaking through the clouds. I have a perfect view of the learning hill and notice a jacket that looks familiar—it’s pink and grey and matches perfectly with the snow bibs I bought at Target. I place my hands on the sill and lean forward, squinting, and eventually confirm that it’s little Willow, sitting in the snow. Towering over her is Breck—though I can only really tell from the wispy blond hair sticking out at the base of his helmet. He mentioned last night that he was going to bring her out today for her first time.
I bite my bottom lip between my teeth and smile, watching them talk… Willow throwing snowballs at his feet. I’ve noticed the loneliness has felt less suffocating over the last few days, and I know it’s the newness of having visitors here and getting to show them around my home.
I wish I could grab the gear that’s strewn around me and join them, but this is their moment.
Breck pulls Willow to her feet and I sit back in my chair, focusing my attention on the reports in front of me. A few hours of charts and insights and then I can forget the numbers and make my way up the mountain. Then I can fly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
