Page 30 of Landing Liam

“Your father forgot his camera,” the woman groans, holding up a camera bag. “And with this possibly being your brother’s last competition, we have to have all the photos.”

“Last?” Mia clicks her tongue dismissively. “Highly doubtful.”

Liam’s last competition? My ears perk up. Why would it be his last?

“Is your brother a snowboarder?” I ask, trying to sound offhand as the woman disappears into what must be an office.

“Oh yeah,” Mia says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “And don’t tell him I said this, but he’s pretty good. He’s also got an ego the size of Antarctica.”

I chuckle at her bluntness. “Don’t all athletes?”

“Totally,” she agrees with a grin.

“I hope this doesn’t sound too forward,” I say carefully, testing the waters, “but why would this be his last competition?”

Mia doesn’t hesitate. “He’s old.” She says it so matter-of-factly that I burst out laughing.

“Old?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “How old are we talking?”

“Thirty-one.” She crosses her arms with mock seriousness. “Practically ancient.”

Her dry delivery catches me off guard, and I laugh again. “Well, that’s as good a reason as any to retire, I guess.”

Before Mia can respond, the blonde woman reappears with the missing camera bag in hand. “Got it,” she announces triumphantly before walking over to us. She extends her hand with an easy smile. “I’m Jenny.”

Her warmth takes me by surprise. It’s not every day the family of someone you’re writing about feels this… genuine. “Margaret,” I reply, shaking her hand. “So nice to meet you.”

“What brings you to the mountain?” she asks, her tone polite but curious.

“Work,” I say vaguely. “But I couldn’t pass up the chance to check out the local art.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Jenny says with a wink.

“I’m going to take a look around, if that’s alright?” I ask, eager for a chance to breathe and digest everything I’ve overheard.

Mia nods. “Of course. Let me know if you have any questions.”

As I move toward a display of paintings, I hear Jenny’s voice drop to a more maternal tone. “How are you feeling? Nauseous? Can I get you anything?”

Mia lets out a soft laugh. “I’m fine, Mom. Just tired.”

Jenny seems like a good mom—attentive, warm, supportive. Just like my mom was. A pang of nostalgia tugs at my chest, but I shake it off, focusing instead on the artwork in front of me.

Then I hear Mia, quieter now, but still clear enough for me to catch. “Can we talk about the family group chat?”

Jenny sighs. “I don’t know why you kids all have to gossip about each other. Can’t Liam like a girl without the entire family putting their two cents in?”

Like a girl? My heart stutters. Could they be talking about… me?

“What do you know?” Mia presses, her curiosity palpable.

“Nothing,” Jenny exhales. “He wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Figures,” Mia grumbles. “He must really like her, though. He’s never been so wound up before.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Jenny says, her tone soft with affection. “He’s always been so focused on snowboarding. It might be good for him to focus on something else for a change.”

My cheeks flush, and I duck my head, pretending to study the painting in front of me as their conversation continues to unfold within earshot.