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Pop is carrying on that tradition with his grandsons.
We get to work, and by the time Mom and Taeli—Graham’s wife—show up with lunch, we have one of the four panels of Snowflex screwed into the anchors and secured.
“How did it go with Zoey yesterday?” Langford asks as we settle around one of the outdoor picnic tables.
“Fine,” I say as I tear into a chicken salad sandwich.
“You two get along?”
I nod as I swallow. “Yep.”
“Can you elaborate?” he asks.
I look at him. “I took her to town. We had breakfast at The Hot Little Biscuit with West and Corbin. I showed her all the places to eat and shop in town. Drove her by Shining Rock Winery, the general store, and festival grounds. Then, we came back here and had dinner with some other staff members. What more do you want to know?”
“I want to know that you two aren’t going to be at odds all season,” he says.
“Is that why you made us spend the day together?”
“I hoped it might help,” he admits.
“Don’t worry; boss lady and I will get along fine,” I assure him.
“Good. I’m counting on it.”
We finish eating, and Caleb and Tucker leave with Mom and Taeli while the rest of us get right back to work.
The last panel is secured just as the sun goes down.
We’re all exhausted, but Corbin calls and talks Weston and me into meeting him for dinner at Appalachian Ridge Brewery, where his girl, Maxi, bartends.
Graham drops us off at my truck, and I drive us into town.
Corbin is waiting when we arrive, and the three of us take seats at the bar.
Maxi brings us all a cold draft, and we order a pizza to share.
“You guys get that fake snow on the mountain?” Corbin asks.
“Yep. It took all damn day,” Weston says.
“Looks like this resort is going to be anall hands on deckfamily affair,” Corbin says.
“I don’t recall your ass hauling turf up the mountainside today,” I quip.
“I was on duty, but don’t worry; Langford is coming to the firehouse tomorrow to talk to the guys about Ski Patrol.”
“He’s recruiting from your guys, huh?” I ask.
“Yeah, he needs men and women who are certified emergency medical techs and familiar with rescue and transport on the mountain terrain. He’s offering pretty good pay to supplement some of our newer recruits’ salaries. I just have to crunch the numbers on how many hours they can safely work when off duty from the firehouse. Langford wants them over there, training on that dry-slope thing with you guys, to make sure their ski skills are sharp.”
“Makes sense,” I say.
“That new boss of yours is a looker.” Weston changes the subject.
“Who, Zoey?” I ask.
“Yeah, Zoey.”
