Nicole snorted. “Don’t let my Aunt MJ or my mother hear you call that old.”
Brianna came around the counter, digging into her candy bag. “You ready for Vermont?” she asked. “Three days with The Legend!” She wiggled a candy worm. “You know I never get enough stories of Flying Jack Kessler.”
Nicole rolled her eyes, long used to Brianna being starstruck over Dad’s impressive ski resume and reputation. “All he’s going to do is try to put skis on me. The winter visits are always the hardest.”
“I say face your fears, Miss Kessler, and let your father—a two-time Olympic competitor who won silver in the FIS AlpineSki World Cup—teach you how to ski again. He’s Jack Kessler. I mean, come on. I came of age listening to him doing color commentary for every Alpine event I ever watched.”
As a wannabe-but-never-was championship skier, Brianna knew the sport inside and out.
“And I came of age with him jetting off to Vancouver or Sochi or wherever ESPN sent him. Honestly, you probably know his voice better than I do.”
Brianna angled her head. “You’re usually happy to see him, Nic. What’s wrong?”
“We have big problems at Snowberry,” she said, not bothering to sugarcoat it with her closest friend, and easily admitting what was on her heart. “A fat tax bill is due, and we do not have the cash to cover it. We’ll have to be late, pay fees, and it’ll be even more next year. My mom thinks it might be smart to sell the whole place.”
Brianna abandoned the candy bag, tossing it on the counter to step closer. “Nic! I knew business was slow and that the new resorts have eaten into bookings, but…wow. Really? Sell? How can you? This place has been in your family since Park City was founded.”
“Not quite, but darn near,” she agreed. “Short term, we have to build the business over the holidays, which are usually our boom time. If we could, Mom can cover the tax bill. But long term?” She huffed a breath. “I don’t know. This place is worth a lot of money and selling it would be…easier.”
“And awful,” Brianna said.
“I’ve added a ton of inventory to our sale, because we’re all trying to come up with some kind of miracle to save December’s numbers.”
Brianna stared at her, narrowing eyes that cut right down the middle between green and brown. Slowly, she nodded, then started snapping her fingers as an idea hatched. “You know whatyou should do?” she asked, pointing a finger at Nicole. “Get your dad here.”
Nicole drew back. “Are you high on gummy worms?”
“I’m serious.”
“What good would that do?”
“He was the sleigh ride king of the mountain,” she said. “I’ve heard the stories. Everyone wanted to ride with Flying Jack.”
“The stories are true,” Nicole said, grabbing so many old memories from her childhood. “Dad ran that sleigh so fast, it was a wonder hedidn’tfly. And with Red all dressed up like Santa? They were the Snowberry glory days. Whistler loved it. But Copper?” She made a face. “He slipped off the trail on his first ride the same Christmas my dad moved away. Trauma all around and the sleigh’s been still ever since.”
Brianna lifted a brow. “I’m telling you. Get your dad to bring his Hallmark movie magic back to this place. That’ll help bookings and I assume the rides aren’t free.”
“They cost a pretty penny and are worth it,” Nicole agreed. “And it would help reservations to run that sleigh. Other resorts might have spas and lift access, but no one has sleigh rides.”
“The ultimate winter adventure fantasy and Instagram perfection,” Brianna said. “Get Jack to come back for one month and give sleigh rides, Nic.”
If only it were that easy. “He’s not coming back. You know the history of him and my mom.”
“I remember when you were dealing with the divorce freshmen year,” she said. “We had some tough conversations in the dorm lounge.”
Oh, they had. They’d been next-door neighbors in Chapel Glen, their freshman dorm, but their roommates were both pretty weird, so Brianna and Nicole bonded immediately. They’d shared many personal stories, including the heartache of Nicole’s parents’ split.
“Then you remember that Mom filed for divorce because she thought it would be a drastic enough move to get him to retire from ESPN, which she not so lovingly called ‘the other woman.’” Nicole huffed out a breath at the memory. “But he wouldn’t retire, and, in true Flying Jack form, he actually left on Christmas so he couldflyto a time trial for Men’s Super-G.”
“Well, that was his signature race,” Brianna said. “Not that it forgives a Christmas departure.”
“Well, I’ve forgiven him,” Nicole said. “Just like he’s forgiven me for quitting skiing.”
“That’s a little different,” Brianna said. “You darn near died at nine years old.”
Nicole just shook her head, never a fan of the subject of her accident. “Anyway, my parents split up and…that’s that,” she said.
“But is that trulythat?” Brianna challenged.
