Page 70 of Stuck With the Smokejumper

“This is absurd,” Dani says, wiggling her toes in the water. “Nobody's going to see these. They're going straight back into work boots Monday.”

“We'll know,” Cassidy says.

“That's the whole point,” Tessa agrees.

We talk about polish colors and whether the technician judges us for our current level of foot neglect. The conversation drifts into what everyone's doing once the season ends.

“Probably back to the resort,” Tessa says, when Dani asks. “Bozeman side. Same as most winters.”

“And after that?” Cassidy asks.

Tessa pauses, like this is the first time anyone's asked her to think past next season. “I have a very sophisticated five-year plan. It mostly involves not making a five-year plan.”

That gets a laugh out of all of us.

“I go back to actual responsibility,” Dani says. “Substitute teaching, mostly. Sometimes paraprofessional work. Missoula, usually.”

“You? In charge of children?” Tessa says. “You can't even get this crew to stop arguing about spoons.”

“Kids are more reasonable than adults. Lower stakes.”

“That's fair.”

“Cassidy goes back to school,” Dani continues. “Environmental science, right?”

“Late August. Two years left.”

“And Trevor?”

Dani probably means it as a casual question, but Cassidy's cheeks go pink.

“Trevor and I aren't dating,” she says, too fast.

“Okay,” Tessa says.

“You've gone into town with him three times,” Dani points out.

“We've gotten food.”

“Together.”

“People do that.”

“On dates,” Tessa says.

Cassidy doesn't have a good comeback for that, mostly just goes pinker, and admits she doesn't know what happens with Trevor once she's back at school. He's off doing winter construction work somewhere in the western part of the state. It's too new. They haven't figured out the logistics. They might not have to figure them out at all, if it fizzles the way summer things sometimes do.

I recognize that uncertainty a little too well. Tessa doesn't know where she'll be in five years. Dani has a whole separate life the rest of us barely glimpse. Cassidy and Trevor are staring down the same unresolved distance Beck and I are. The crew house feels permanent while we're all living in it together, but it never is. People come here for a season and then scatter when the work ends. I've always understood that. It just matters differently this year.

By the time our toes are done, painted a deep summer red that will not survive prolonged contact with hiking boots, I've got an idea. I take a picture of my feet, framed carefully, angled so my calves are clearly visible too. Nothing scandalous. Just enough.

Tessa glances at my phone screen and raises an eyebrow.

I don't explain. I send the picture to Beck with a short message about the pedicure, then put my phone away and go back to enjoying the afternoon with my friends, not checking every two minutes, not worrying that he hasn't answered yet. He's back with his crew today. He could be anywhere, doing anything. That's fine. We're already learning what trying looks like.

His reply comes a couple hours later, once we're back at the crew house.

Made it. Already put in a full day. Then: The toes looks great. Still more interested in the legs.