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“Dad,” I call out. “Mom wants to talk to you.”
He eyes me warily. “The hell does she want?”
“Fuck if I know.” Thankfully, I made sure to keep my finger over the microphone.
I hand my phone to him, trading it for the shovel. Noelle cocks her head, curious. I shrug. My dad takes the call over to the parking lot while Noelle and I resume salting the walkway. When he returns, he’s wearing an odd expression.
"Miranda wants to host her New Year's Eve party here,” he says.
I balk. "What'd you tell her?"
"That the barn wasn’t ready. She asked if I could get it ready, and I told her I probably could, if I were so inclined."
“Which you’re not.”
He shrugs. “I said I’d think about it.”
“Wait, seriously?” I’m pretty sure my parents haven’t worked together toward a mutual goal since they accidently made me.
My dad looks at Noelle. She smooths her lips together, her expression thoughtful.
"Let's forget that we’re dealing with my dad and your mom for a sec,” she says.
I fold my arms across my chest. "Easier said than done.”
"This might actually be a good way to test out the event space,” she says. “With family instead of paying customers.”
"You're thinking this could be a business opportunity," my dad says.
“Exactly. We know the guests are going to be people who either live or vacation in the area. Skiers and snowboarders. Parents with kids. Kids with birthdays, weddings, graduation parties... You see where I’m going with this?”
My dad scrubs at his beard, then heads up the freshly salted walkway toward the lobby. Noelle and I follow.
"Frida," he says once we’re inside. "Is the honeymooner cabin free December thirtieth through the first?"
Frida clicks around on the computer. "Right now it is, yes."
My dad, Noelle, and I exchange glances. She’s got a point. This would be a golden opportunity to test out the barn, if not for the fact that anything my mother touches turns to chaos. Still, if we can pull this off, then we’ll know we can handle anything a guest might throw our way.
“You think the barn can be ready in three days?” I ask my dad.
“If I can get a few extra hands, yeah.”
“I’ll help,” Noelle says. “I can order decorations and contact suppliers about renting tables and chairs.”
“Frida,” my dad says. “Got any grandkids who might want to make a few extra bucks?”
“Oh sure,” she says with a smile. “Always.”
Noelle looks like a shaken bottle of soda about to pop. She’s excited about this project. Or maybe she’s just excited tohavea project.
"We’re really going to do this?" I ask.
My dad cocks an eyebrow. "We?"
“Yeah.” Noelle grins. "We."
They both look at me.
