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Today, Mary planned to be at her Norfolk home, getting her garden ready for winter. And instead, she was over here in Switzerland doing her darndest to push up the daisies.
Some kid about her sons’ age slid forward, big grin on his face, his chin-length curls a tangle under his beanie. “I’ll go.” He had the look in his eye like those dudes on YouTube got just before they ran and leaped into the air, strapped to a bungee cord.
Great, she was this kid’s death-defying adrenaline rush.
Chapter Six
Pitching forward at her hips, Mary gripped the center of the T bar with her right hand and jabbed her ski poles into the icy snow with the left. She propelled herself forward and away from the contraption that had (this second go-round) pushed her all the way to the top of the glacier.
When she focused on ski-boy to thank him for his kindness, he sent her a look that Mary read as disappointment.
With his helmet cam showing a green recording light, maybe he’d been hoping to post a video that went viral.
Was that ungenerous?
It wasn’t like he’d tried to sabotage her or anything. The whole way up, he’d been coaching her. “Skis parallel. Focus on your breath. Oui, Madame. You’re doing very nice job.”
And as she listened and responded with appreciation, she was also thinking that this young man was a creature of the snow. There was no way this kid had gone down the children’s slope because he hadn’t graduated past that level of accomplishment. Mary remembered the number of adults and their phones trained on her when she crawled up from the first T-bar mistake; that group wasn’t the same little school kid groups and their carers that she’d fallen beside as they moved happily down the Alp. Mary concluded that she was the subject of mountainside gossip, and she’d pulled in a group of the curious. She’d been the accident on the side of the road that tugged attention and caused traffic congestion.
Great. Just great.
“What’s your name?” The guy who had helped her through that balancing act stood there looking expectant as if the curtain were about to rise on the next scene in Mary’s drama, but she was done. She just wanted a damned cup of coffee.
Bending to release her skis, then lifting them up to hug them to her side. Mary said, “Me? I’m Joan Crawford.” She pulled up an actress’s name too historical for a kid his age to know.
“Good to meet you. I’m Fabio. I’m from Ticino.” He extended his arm as if he could point out his house.
Of course, Fabio. She had no idea where Ticino could possibly be. “Yeah? Well, thanks for being brave enough to help me to the top. Hope your day goes great.” She turned toward the chalet and walked away.
Wrestling her skis through the door, Mary trudged to the rental guy to hand in her equipment.
“You enjoyed?” he asked, accepting the apparatus and looking it over for damage.
“Beautiful country,” Mary said to the kid with the wide grin. Yeah, he knew. Wise ass. “I’ll go ahead and buy the goggles.”
He nodded and tapped the register. “You want to keep them as souvenir?” He held them up. “Or I just throw in trash?”
“Trash.” Mary didn’t want to remember this episode. “How do I get to the food?”
Mary followed the point of his finger, flinging a “Merci!” over her shoulder as she tried to walk into the restaurant with as much dignity as her abused body could muster.
Deidre sat in the warm glow of light at the window.
A pot of coffee with two mugs was on the table.
“There you are.” Deidre pulled the napkin from the table and put it on her lap. “I ordered breakfast. You’re going to like it.” She lifted the mug to her lips for a sip. “Coffee’s good.”
Mary eased her way into the chair, blowing the pain out with her breath.
Deidre, “I do black diamonds in West Virginia, and I thought, hey, I’m a little rusty.” She poured coffee into Mary’s mug, leaving enough room for cream, then pushed it over to her. “Since I haven’t skied since last year, I decided to take the easier slope.”
Mary wasn’t sure she had the strength to lift the heavy-looking ceramic to her lips. Maybe she could just duck her head and slurp.
“Girl!” Deidre pushed the little pitcher of thick cream over to her, followed by the bowl of brown sugar crystals. “I thought I might not escape with my life.” She shook her head. “I mean, up on the black diamond, I saw that the skiers wore ski pants and coats. So I figured I’d head to the slope where they weren’t afraid of falling and breaking a nail, you know what I mean? So I went to the blue slope.”
Mary stared vacantly at her. The day had been stunning. And her senses decided to take a nap.
“These chicklets in their Brazilian bikinis with the matching ski boots, working on their tans from the sun reflecting off the ice.” She put her hands on her cheeks, pressing in to make a fish face, then reached out to wrap her hands around the warmth of her mug. “I kid you not. There were patches of ice, not even any bumps to slow me down. It was like they’d just brought out the machine on the hockey rink and polished it all up. The speeds I reached, Mary, the wind caught at my lips and flapped my cheeks like I was on a speed boat. I was so jealous that you were on the bunny slope having a gentle ride.”
