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At the start of the second week, I tweak a few things and move a couple of the instructors around based on my observations and client feedback.
I’m out on the mountain, watching as Scooter takes one of his students on the lift to an intermediate slope, when Langford calls to me from the door of the equipment rental room.
“What’s up?” I ask as I make it to him.
“I need a favor. I realize it’s too soon to be asking for one, but here I am,” he says.
“Whatever you need,” I assure him.
“I need you to do a group beginners lesson for me.”
“When?” I ask.
“Now?”
It’s a question.
“I don’t work with beginners,” I tell him.
“I know, but none of them wanted Morris bossing them around on the slopes, and you are the only other one with wiggle room in their schedule. Besides, they requested you specifically, and they are kind of … well, you’ll see,” he says as he leads me to two women, decked out in brightly hued ski outfits.
“Hi, Zoey,” an older woman with white hair and a big smile bellows and waves.
I walk over and extend my hand in greeting.
“Ah, nah, that’s too formal for Balsam Ridge. We hug it out here,” she says before enveloping me in a tight embrace.
“Welcome to our world,” another woman murmurs.
She is a tall, younger blonde who looks vaguely familiar.
“Zoey, you remember my sister-in-law, Taeli, and her mother, Leona? You bartended at Taeli and Graham’s wedding when you first got to town,” Langford reminds me.
“Oh, yes, that’s right. It’s great to see you guys again.”
“You too. We’re so excited to get to spend the day learning from a famous skier,” Leona says.
“Hardly famous,” I say.
“Nearly famous?” she asks, looking between me and her daughter before waving us off. “It doesn’t matter. I have a magazine with you on the cover, and that’s famous enough for me.”
Langford’s mother and six other women join us.
“Oh, good. We’re all here now,” Leona chirps.
I look back at my boss. “So, there are nine.”
He nods.
I turn back to them. “I usually do private one-on-one training instead of group lessons, but I’m sure I can come up with some easy and fun things for you guys.”
“Ansley, Jena, and I have skied before,” one girl says.
“Which ones?”
“This one and that one. I’m Erin, by the way.”
I give my attention to the one standing with her fingers above two of the others’ heads. She was at the wedding too, I note.
