Chapter 8
HANNAH
Maya texts me early, asking if I want to join her on the slopes today. It’s been a while since we snowboarded together, and it’ll be nice to do something other than take pictures all day.
Taking a quick body shower and removing any extra hairs on my chin and mustache line, because PCOS symptoms stop for no one.
I throw on my favorite snow gear and braid my wavy, red hair.
I’m about to add my favorite blue beanie when my phone begins to buzz on the bedside table, my mother’s face flashing on the screen.
Shit, I forgot to call her!
Picking it up, I answer with a cheerful, “Hello, Mom!”
“Hey, sweetheart! I haven’t heard from you yet. Is everything okay?” Her voice, a sing-song of childhood memories, warms my heart.
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. Things got a little hectic up here.” I start to pick at the little hole I found on my knee. Great, hopefully this pair holds out for the week.
“Oh, is everything okay with Maya and her parents?” she asks in a concerned voice. Leave it to Mom to figure out that something is wrong in under ten seconds.
I take a deep breath and begin the story of why I’m here, how I overheard their accountant, right down to a possible plan Maya and I might have conjured up last night on the ski lift.
I still have to work out some kinks, but I’m hoping tonight her parents will try at least one more time to save their second home.
“Gosh, you would go every winter break after Christmas to that place. I can’t imagine it shutting down after so long.” Mom hasn’t been here since my dad’s death. It’s hard for her, even after all these years, to come back to a place where my dad was so heavily involved.
Both Maya and my family would travel during February break, spending time with kids our age while the adults had their time with late-night dinners and dancing.
Days were spent skiing or snowboarding together.
Now, my dad is gone, my mother works forty hours a week at a well-paying job she hates, and the Gomezes are about to lose a family business that brings people together.
My heart feels heavy at the thought of a possible reality if we can’t convince her parents to try our idea.
I’m not ready to give up just yet.
Mom pulls my focus back with her next question. “How are you feeling?” The question she poses really means, ‘Hey, I know your PCOS sucks, but please tell me you’re following your doctor’s orders.’
I shrug like she can see it through the phone.
“All right. Less headaches, better sleep.
I'm still struggling to lose weight in my midsection.” Flashbacks of Liam and me tangled in bed sheets, my shirt hanging loosely over my chest as I ride him.
Hurt hits me hard at the memory, making my hands shake, trying to keep my phone steady against my ear.
It was never for comfort; it hid my insecurities. Eventually, not even a regular bathing suit seemed comfortable enough to wear in public.
Shaking the memory away, breathing deeply in and out through my nose, I continue to pick at the hole in my snow pants.
“How is your blood work?”
I groan internally. Because she’s a good mother, I can’t fault her for asking all the questions about my physical health, but it’s a battle only I can face alone. “I go in two weeks for a follow-up. I’ll find out soon if my levels dropped.”
Rapid knocks are heard outside my cabin door, and I silently thank a higher power for the interruption. “Hey, Mom, I gotta go. I’ll keep you posted when the results come in, okay?”
Our brief exchange ends with I love you. She cares deeply, and I’m thankful for that.
I open the door to find Maya in brand new, neon-pink snow gear, gripping her white snowboard, smiling from ear to ear. “Morning, sunshine!”
I snort. “What’s with the new clothes?” She looks like a beacon for one of those starlets on the Las Vegas strip.
“My new, optimistic mood needed a makeover.”
“So, looking like a life-size Barbie was the only option?” I loved Barbie growing up, but this is so out of character for Maya.
“You’re a bore. Let’s hit the slopes before I trip you in a snow mound.”
“I feeeeeeel the love.” Grabbing my black snowboard with various stickers stuck on over the years, we make our way to the ski lift, trudging through a fresh layer of snow.
She throws her arm over my shoulder and squeezes. I’m forever grateful to have her by my side.
We head in line for the lift; some small groups are ahead of us, young teens in their snow gear, excited to join the morning ride.
The sun begins to rise above the mountains, creating a warm, yellowish glow across the horizon.
The smell of cold snow and the brisk air touching my face like an icy kiss keep my anxiety at bay.
To think, Snowy Peak Resort can disappear in the blink of an eye if we can’t convince her parents to try one more time.
Simultaneously, we sit on the next seat, rising up the mountainside. “How are we going to present this idea to your parents?”
Maya looks over her shoulder, watching the next pair take their seats. “I was thinking of just word vomiting the pl—”
She freezes, her eyes bulging from her eye sockets. “Fuck!’
I whip around, trying to spot who she’s staring at. The two males who took the seat behind us are a little further back, talking to one another, completely unaware of Maya hiding behind me.
“Who’s that?”
“Gift card dude! AH! He’s fucking EVERYWHERE!”
Maya rocks the seat as I cling to the bar for dear life. After the swaying stops, I take a deep breath, making sure we stay put. “I mean, he’s staying here, so…”
Maya sinks further in her seat. I have to keep her from slipping out to her death by gripping the collar of her jacket.
She faces the front again, forcing me to throw my arm over her shoulder for extra coverage. “As long as I’m off and down the hill before him, I can escape without being seen. I should be in the clear.”
I try to get my arm back, but she tugs tighter. “Or you can just confront him now and move on quicker?”
A look of horror paints her face. “And expose myself to a possible second date?”
“You can say no, you know?” But we both know Maya doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She would say yes to a third and fourth date to avoid hurting anyone's feelings.
The alternative is to hide…exactly what she’s doing right now.
“Just keep looking forward, I don’t think he knows it’s me.” Maya peeks around us one more time, then shivers. “Gosh, I can’t believe this.”
“All right, can we return to our scheduled program?”
She waves me aside. “Yeah, yeah, let’s continue.”
“I was thinking we would showcase a PowerPoint? Compile all the reasons we should have the event and how it can benefit the resort. I started it last night,” I say with a hopeful smile.
Maya shakes my body, once again rocking not only me but our seat. “I swear, without you here—”
“Stop shaking the seat!” I interrupt, barely keeping my mind occupied from how high we are rising. “Are you trying to make me shit my pants?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you did that.”
“At least mine wasn’t diarrhea.”
She holds up her hands in surrender. “You win.”
Our stop is approaching, and Maya, suddenly antsy, swings her legs back and forth. “Okay, so, PowerPoint, check. Can we meet before dinner to finalize it?”
Inches separate us from the landing. “Yes, it would be good to give a presentation to your parents, give them a visual that it could work.”
A staff member approaches our seat, ready to usher us off safely.
Maya wastes no time and hits the ground running, knocking the staff member into the snow.
“See you at the bottom!” she screams while strapping her snowboard to her feet.
Meanwhile, I help the poor soul who got clotheslined by Maya’s body.
She’s gone by the time I help the staff member up, and Gift Card Dude jumps down with his friend, completely oblivious to what transpired moments ago.
I shake my head—not at all surprised by her theatrics—and make my way over to the beginning of an intermediate trail, the Jigsaw, strapping myself securely to my snowboard and adjusting my goggles over my eyes.
I let the course take me to a faraway place, where my anxiety is nonexistent, my PCOS dormant, and Snowy Peak Resort is safe.
Just before dinner, Maya is sprawled out on my bed as I sit on the couch, going over the finer details of our neatly organized PowerPoint. When I say neatly, I mean I organized all her chaotic thoughts. Funny, how I can’t keep up with my room back at home, but a PowerPoint? No problem.
We add pictures of possible event ideas and what Snowy Peak can offer for food and refreshments. Maya suggests a thorough bullet-point system, so that her parents don’t ask a million questions and derail them from our actual pitch.
“Do you think this will work?” she asks, biting her lip.
I blow a loose strand of hair away from my face. “If we are persuasive enough and make sure they understand it’s not the end, then yeah, I think this could work.”
“I don’t think I can eat,” Maya admits.
“You can’t avoid the dining hall forever. Eventually, you and Gift Card Dude are going to run into each other.”
“It’s not that. I’m worried, Hannah. What if my parents toss this whole pitch out the window? What if they already have buyers lined up and we just wasted our time?” Her bottom lip quivers, tears pooling in her big, brown eyes.
Closing my laptop, I force her to scoot over and join her on the bed. “It won’t happen because we’re going to convince them, and let the record show that we have done exceptionally well in the past in convincing your parents of crazy ideas.”
She smiles. “Remember when we convinced them to get our belly buttons pierced at the same time, and your mother nearly had a stroke because it got infected?”
“Yeah, and then I had to get rushed to the ER, while yours got stuck in your drawstrings and ripped out, and you were bleeding everywhere? Only later did we find out our rooms were right next to each other.”
We stared at each other for a moment, soaking it in, then laughed like it wasn’t the most traumatic event we shared.
“All because they took us to Martha’s Vineyard that one time over summer break.
You convinced my parents so easily that your mother was already okay with it.
I realized then my parents loved you so much they would believe anything that came out of your mouth,” Maya adds, coming down from our laughing fit.
I smile at the memory, knowing we have matching scars on our belly buttons. “So, when I say we can convince them?”
Maya sighs in defeat. “Then we can convince them.”
We make her parents sit in their room while we set up the PowerPoint after dinner.
Maya sits bouncing her legs on one of the lodge chairs, eyes darting back and forth between her parents and me.
Her anxiety is making it hard to focus. Front and center for everyone’s attention, I use my computer to sift through slides, explaining our reasoning for trying new event ideas.
“I think after some thought, Maya and I believe we can bring in more revenue by planning a special event,” another click, and our first slide details possible ideas, neatly organized.
“With some research of neighboring resorts, the common factor is they all host events, whether it be paint night with wine, crafts for kids, or even a karaoke night. Although the slopes are the main attraction, we see that offering other activities entices more people to attend. People like variety. Why not give it to them?”
Maya stops bouncing, leaning forward, elbows on knees, biting her nails.
I start. “Here are some possible ideas for added events that could help bring in new and returning customers.” I watch Jill and Anthony read the list, catching eyes with Maya, giving her a hopeful smile.
She surprises me by jumping to her feet, coming to stand beside me.
“Mom, Dad,” she addresses them in a formal tone that makes them laugh.
“This place means everything to me, to us, the whole family. It would be a terrible idea not to give it one more try and save a place that has been a second home not only to us but also to others. Please, let us try these events, or some of them?”
At least she waited til after I handled presenting our PowerPoint before blurting out a desperate plea. Even more shocking is that Maya sounds coherent rather than a hot mess.
Anthony looks at his wife, silently exchanging some weird mental thought between the two, and says, “You’re right, Maya. We didn’t try hard enough.”
I hold my breath, gauging Maya’s reaction.
She freezes all movement. “I was?”
Jill lets Anthony take the floor to explain. “We gave up too easily, and that’s not who we are, and that’s not how we raised you. So, I made a phone call to a friend, and I think we found a way to hopefully save this place after all.”
My eyes widen, mouth agape. “Are you serious?”
Jill nods, smiling. “Twenty-five years in the business, we sometimes forget the people we meet along the way if we ever need a favor…”
“And to not hesitate and give them a call,” Anthony finishes, then adds, “so, we called up our friend Tommy Jones.”
“Holy shit,” I exclaim, excitement radiating through my body. “He’s one of the youngest Olympic male coaches in North America.”
“Lucky for us, he came here with his daughters for vacation, and we asked if they could fit one more spot on their tour.” Anthony drapes his arms around Jill, squeezing her shoulder.
“That would mean…” Maya pauses, calculating the idea in her head. “We can ticket the event, set up ads, and gather more crowd attraction?”
She takes the words right out of everyone’s mouth as Anthony nods, confirming. “Precisely. People don’t have to stay at the resort, either, to attend the event; it can be ticketed to outsiders as well.”
Jill beams from where she sits. “And, lucky for us, we have other great contacts from local vendors who owe us a few favors.”
Holy shit, this might work.
Maya is barreling toward her parents, squeezing the crap out of them. “Whatever you need us to do, we’re here to help!”
Jill looks over at me, smiling from ear to ear. “As long as Hannah stays.”
My heart swells as I join them for a group hug.
For once, something might actually work out for the better.