“We are not?—”
Cindy looked up when MJ didn’t finish, following her sister’s gaze to the hall.
“Was that Benny?” MJ whispered.
Cindy’s chest sank a little. “I hope not. He shouldn’t hear any of this.”
“I’ll go check on him,” MJ said, drying her hands on a dish towel.
They exchanged a glance—equal parts dread and affection for the boy they both adored—then MJ disappeared through the arched doorway.
Cindy turned to eye the mountains again, smiling at the snowfall. This was definitely what her ex-husband would call a great, big glorious powder dump.
Nothing made Flying Jack Kessler happier than a few feet of fluffy, ski-perfect snow on his beloved slopes.
She closed her eyes and willed the memory away.
Jack was a long-closed chapter of her life, and she couldn’t ever hear that laugh again any more than she could fill this place to the rafters and save Snowberry Lodge.
But MJ was right with all her ruthless optimism. They had to try. They had to.
Nicole Kessler trudged up the path from the street-facing parking lot to reach the ski shed the morning after Thanksgiving, her boots sinking into snowdrifts as she forged her way to work.
Almost there, she took a moment to notice the Utah mountain skies were heartbreakingly blue around the ridgeline, freshly washed from the storm. That sight would bring joy to all the avid skiers about to descend on Park City for the start of the season.
Nicole could speak their language, and she would, all day today, when skiers came into the Snowberry Lodge Adventure Shack—AKA the ski shed—to buy and rent everything they’d need to hit the slopes.
But speaking their language didn’t make her one of them. Yes, she catered to ski lovers all winter long, who chatted endlessly about the conditions, the runs, the lines, the crowded slopes, the cost of lift tickets. But she hadn’t put on a pair of boots and bindings for…what?
Nineteen years.
Well, eighteen years and ten months, to be precise. January would be the nineteenth anniversary of her accident, and shestill couldn’t imagine what it would take to get her on the slopes again.
She kept her history well hidden from her customers, and with what was going on at the lodge? The worry in her mother’s eyes and the agony in Aunt MJ’s? She’d faked the ski love with every person on the property because Nicole’s little piece of the Snowberry pie was helping to keep this place afloat.
Digging into her bag for the keys, she studied the building, which wasn’t actually a shed at all. Situated about fifty yards across a wide drive from the main lodge, the shop was a converted barn painted bright red with a dark green tin roof and a massive display window. Behind the glass was an ever-changing array of ski apparel, boots, helmets, and gleaming skis and poles.
A sign for the shed at the street entrance to Snowberry Lodge invited locals and tourists to buy and rent anything they’d need for the slopes in the winter, plus bikes and hiking gear in the summer. Here, they’d pay much less than they would at the resorts or even in town.
Off to the right, a carport housed the lodge’s shuttle van and a muddy UTV that Nicole loved to take through the trails in the warmer weather. The van was gone now since Brianna Larsson, her roommate, co-worker, and bestie, was at the airport picking up some new arrivals.
Unlocking the oversized front door, she walked into her spacious, high-ceilinged shop, its open floor ringed by a railed loft where all the skis stood like colorful soldiers.
On the main floor, racks of apparel, shelves of accessories, and displays of gear filled the warm, well-lit space.
With undeniable pride, Nicole scanned the store and her merchandise, satisfied that everything was arranged to catch the sun that poured through the high windows around the second-floor loft.
Nicole might hate skiing—with a passion—but adored her little retail paradise. Since she’d turned fifteen, she’d worked at the ski shed, helping Grandpa Red run this end of Snowberry’s business.
All the way through high school and four years at the University of Utah, Nicole worked here every holiday and summer, slowly but surely putting her touch on the place.
As a business major with a minor in retail management, taking over the ski shed had been a natural move, and Grandpa Red had been more than happy to retire at seventy-five.
For the past seven years, Nicole had expanded the merchandise, improved the displays, and launched some successful ad campaigns.
She also hired Brianna, her closest friend from college and an avid skier, to help with lessons when she started that business. Brianna had brought a new energy and excitement, and had taken over running the shuttle service, too.
She loved this job so much that she couldn’t bear to think about the kitchen conversation last night. Sell Snowberry? She groaned at the very idea, vowing to somehow slay her own sales numbers and be able to help with that tax bill.
