Chapter 6
Chapter six
Hayden
“Thank you so much for taking David out today,” his wife gushes as one of our instructors leads him out the door. “He’s been looking forward to it for months.”
“This is his first time on the mountain since the accident?” The file says it is, but since I didn’t book this lesson, I want to verify. Plus, more information is never a bad thing when dealing with disabled riders. You never know what minute detail might make their experience better.
“It is. Losing your sight is hard enough, but the idea that he wouldn’t be able to ski again…
” She pauses for a minute to blink back a stray tear.
“It sounds silly, but skiing is a part of him. It was the thing he did for himself. Everything else was for others, but skiing was for him. Without this…” She swallows, offering a grateful smile. “This will save him.”
I have to fight my own tears as I accept her thanks. “I’m so happy to hear that. Will you be skiing, too?”
“I’m afraid I’d be too much of a distraction today.
I’ll join them later in the week when David’s got a few runs under his belt.
” She presses her lips between her teeth before offering another teary smile.
I see her out the door, then head back to my office to check my emails and follow up with more prospective guests.
Three weeks into the season, we’re slowly but surely gaining steam.
Holiday bookings are full, and by all accounts our clients are enjoying their experience.
It’s a dream come true in many ways, and not just because it means my job is most likely secure.
The difference we’re making is undeniable.
I like to think that means my cousin, Mike, would be proud of me if he were here to see this.
He passed three years ago from complications of the diabetes that took his sight before claiming his life, but not before we got to make some really great memories on the slopes.
I know what the mountains meant to him, so if I can give that to others…
yeah, I think he’d approve. I just hope I can keep up with demand as word spreads.
So far, I haven’t had to turn anyone away, though the need for instructors might soon make that a reality. I’m hesitant to bug Carter about that though, because I’ll first have to admit I’m not using the one he already gave me.
Ryder Vorhees.
He and I have fallen into a cordial existence.
Aside from the snarky comments about me being cold, he doesn’t speak much, which just about makes his presence tolerable.
Day after day, he comes in, cleans the place up, and leaves.
He doesn’t just half-ass things either, which would be easy to do since the building already looks a little worn after decades of use, but so far, he’s been thorough enough I haven’t found anything to complain about.
If the first day hadn’t clouded my opinion of him, I might be tempted to think he’s a decent guy. The silent, brooding type with a trace of sadness people like me yearn to fix.
Fortunately, he showed his true colors that first day, and every day since seeing as how he can’t hide the faint scent of alcohol that lingers on his skin.
But—and this is hard to admit—the guy is legitimately the hottest man I’ve ever seen in the flesh, so it’s really hard not to pretend he’s a civilized human as long as he’s not talking.
Once he opens his mouth though, I remember why he’s been relegated to tasks that don’t require interaction with the guests.
No sooner does that thought cross my mind than I look up to find Carter knocking at my door. Please let this be unrelated to Ryder.
“Hi.” I paste what I hope is a genuine smile on my face. Were it not for his charity case, it would be—just another reason to dislike Ryder, I guess. He makes me leery of Carter when I don’t want to be. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing official, I just wanted to see how things are going.” He takes a seat on the chair in front of my desk and crosses an ankle over his knee.
“Really well. We’re fully booked over Christmas and New Year’s, and I’m taking reservations for spring break.”
“What’s the feedback been so far?”
“All positive. The guests are grateful for the opportunity to get on the slopes, and there haven’t been any hiccups with lift tickets or equipment that would complicate the experience.” Carter nods along as I speak, absorbing the information.
“What about advertising? Promotions? What are we doing to bring attention to the program?”
This, more so than the actual instruction, is my area of expertise, and I have to force myself to speak slowly so my excitement doesn’t turn my words to mush.
“I’m updating our current ads with quotes from our recent guests about the positive experience they had.
I’m instituting a rewards program to help offset the cost of lift tickets and equipment for repeat visitors, and I’d like to talk to you further about offering free or discounted options to people who can’t afford to visit but would benefit from the experience.
I’ve got some other ideas about special events we could host next season, which we’ll want to start advertising for in the next month or so I would think, and… ”
“I assume you’ve run the numbers on all these ideas?” There’s an amused gleam in Carter’s eye as he brings my focus back to the logistics.
“Of course.”
“Okay, send my assistant a note about how much time you need to go through everything in depth and she’ll schedule a meeting. And Ryder? How’s he doing with the guests?”
Dammit. I was hoping to avoid this. Since I can’t, I’ll at least own it by holding my ground. “He doesn’t have much interaction with the guests.”
“He’s been here three weeks and hasn’t been interacting with the guests? Why the hell not?” A slight line appears between Carter’s brows as his lips settle into a firm line.
“I can’t put him out there looking and smelling like he bathes in alcohol.” It’s probably not wise to match Carter’s expression, but on this I’m firm. I just have to hope he respects that.
“Are you saying he shows up drunk?” The frown deepens as a vein seems to pop out of his forehead.
“I’m not sure about drunk, but hungover, yes.
And I don’t care if he’s your friend or not, that’s a liability the center can’t afford.
” Thank God I’m sitting down, or my knees would’ve buckled trying to catch my stomach before it hit the ground.
But I’m too committed to this program to let it go down because my boss has a personal interest in one of his athletes.
That sounds a little callous, and given the way so many corporations treat employees as numbers instead of people nowadays, possibly unfair.
Carter’s desire to look out for someone on his payroll really is admirable, and something that I wish other companies would do more of.
That said, our mission is to help people, and Ryder strikes me as someone who’d be better suited to receiving help than offering it. Preferably at the nearest AA meeting.
“Why didn’t you bring this to my attention sooner?”
“With all due respect, the purpose of this program is to assist the guests that come here, not the instructors. My focus needs to be on them, not Ryder.” My heart is beating a mile a minute, yet somehow, I avoid the urge to fidget under Carter’s stoic gaze.
“I don’t think there needs to be a distinction between who we serve.”
“You’re saying I should knowingly pair a guest with someone that may or may not be coherent enough to instruct them?” I can’t stop my jaw from falling open. “That’s not what they’re paying for.”
“I’m saying healing goes both ways, and Ryder won’t heal unless he’s on the mountain. We have to find a way to get him there.”
I’m not expecting Carter to be so adamant given the solid business argument I just made, which has me confused.
Ryder and I may do our best to avoid each other, but yes, even I can see there’s something broken inside him.
On more than one occasion I’ve questioned whether I’m being fair to regard him with such contempt when there’s clearly something deeper than just a bad attitude at play.
Then I get a whiff of his prior evening’s activities, and—given the suffering of the people we help here—I find myself getting pissed at the callous way he flaunts his addictions.
Still, I’d be lying if I said part of me wasn’t compelled to fix his perpetually distant look.
It’s my career, after all, and I’d like to think I’m good at it.
But the people I typically work with want to make a change, and I don’t get the impression Ryder does.
That means Carter’s ask is futile. So why is he so determined to see it through?
“Putting him on the mountain in his current state is a big risk. Why is it so important to you that we make it happen?”
The line between Carter’s brows fades as one on his forehead replaces it, his gaze drifting to his lap. “If he remembers he loves to ride that just might save his life.”
That’s a far more dire reason than I could’ve imagined, and while it strikes me as a little dramatic, the undeniable worry in Carter’s tone has me almost ready to concede. Almost.
“I can’t do that unless he shows up ready to work. It’s not fair to the guests, the other instructors, or the program as a whole. I hope saying that doesn’t cost me this job, but until he takes this seriously, I can’t do what you’re asking.”
The frown returns as Carter brings his eyes to mine.
“I’m not in the habit of firing people who are making sound decisions.
Ryder doesn’t belong on the mountain unless he’s sober, and I’ll sort him out so he’s ready.
But it is important that we get him riding, so if he’s not meeting expectations you need to loop me in sooner. ”
A wave of guilt washes over me as Carter’s words hit my ears.
Despite our difference of opinion on Ryder’s presence here, he’s still my boss, so he deserves to be kept informed.
And as I now know, I didn’t have any reason to be secretive since he agrees with me about needing Ryder to be alcohol free to work with the guests.
I’m skeptical about whether he can do that, but that doesn’t give me license to deliberately withhold information.
“I will.” My voice is softer than usual after that subtle reprimand, but if Carter notices he doesn’t comment.