Chapter One #2
As Lily approached the head of the line the liftie, Desi, signaled for the next group of skiers to wait and waved Lily and Shelby forward.
The dog jumped into the lift chair, and Lily settled beside her.
Shelby lay down, her head in Lily’s lap, as the chair rose into the air.
Lily buried her gloved fingers in the thick ruff of fur around the dog’s neck.
She reached the mid-mountain lift and rode it up to Top of the Mark, the highest lift-served terrain.
This was the view touted in all the advertising for SkyCrest resort— snow-crowned peaks set against a turquoise sky.
In addition to the lift-served runs accessed from “the mark,” gates provided access to acres of hike-to terrain.
At the top of the lift, the chair slowed. Lily stood as her skis made contact with the ground and Shelby bounded gracefully off the chair and toward the ski patrol shack at the edge of the tree line a few yards away.
She was opening the door to the shack when Hunter trotted up behind her, followed quickly by Scott. Lily braced herself for a confrontation over her “jerk” remark, but he said nothing. “We’ll leave the dogs here while we patrol,” he said as he moved past her into the shack.
He was filling a water bowl for the dogs when she joined him inside. Both canines lapped noisily as soon as he set the bowl on the floor. “Come on, Hunter,” he said, and opened the door to one of the kennels in the back corner of the hut.
Hunter obediently trotted into the kennel and curled up on the memory-foam pad there. Without Lily even asking, Shelby loaded into her own kennel. She was curled up, plumed tail over her nose, and asleep before Lily even closed the door.
Dogs secured, she followed Scott back out of the lift shack and stepped into her skis again while he secured the door. “Let’s make a run down May Day,” he said. “On the way up I got a complaint about kids hucking off the rocks there.”
Hucking—or jumping—off the rocks above the ski runs presented a real hazard to both the jumpers and skiers below them.
Patrol had roped off the area several times, but the ropes were easy enough to take down, and a group of local teens, supplemented by more daring visitors, regularly congregated in the area to test their mettle and the agility of the patrollers.
So far, they had all escaped apprehension.
“Hey, Lily!” They had not skied far when a boy hailed her. She slid to a stop as nine-year-old Jackson Endicott skied up to her. Small for his age, with pale blue eyes, Jackson usually wore an earnest, slightly worried expression.
“Hi, Jackson,” Lily said. “What are you up to?”
“I’m waiting on Dad.” He looked up the slope, where a black-clad man had stopped to talk to a couple in matching red ski suits. “He’s always stopping to talk to people.” He looked back at Lily. “Where’s Shelby?”
“She’s taking a nap right now,” Lily said. Aware of Scott waiting beside her, she gestured to him. “This is Scott Linden,” she said. “Scott, this is Jackson Endicott.”
“Nice to meet you, Jackson,” Scott said. He even sounded friendly.
“Are you coming over tonight?” Jackson asked.
“I sure am. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Cool. Oops, there goes Dad.” Jackson jammed his poles in the snow as his dad sped by. “Gotta go.” He rushed off, skis scraping as he worked up speed.
Lily and Scott set off behind him at a slower pace. “How do you know Jackson Endicott?” Scott asked.
“I was his nanny when he was a baby,” she said. “Before he started school.”
“Then I guess you’ve been inside their chalet.”
“Yes.” And their summer home in Maine and their winter retreat in Taos.
“I still babysit for Jackson sometimes when his dad has to be away.” Tonight was a client dinner.
Though the Endicotts had a live-in housekeeper, Denny Endicott preferred to have Lily stay with Jackson.
And since he paid twenty dollars an hour and all the food she could eat, she was happy to oblige.
“How do you know the family?” she asked Scott.
“I don’t know them, but I know of them. Denton Endicott is always in the news.”
“Hmm.” Lily didn’t pay that much attention to the news.
“The New York Times did a profile of him a few months ago, about the proprietary navigational software he’s developed. Apparently, it’s a pretty lucrative business.”
“I guess so.”
“He might be a good person to approach about donating to the avy dog program,” Scott said. “SkyCrest supports our avalanche dogs with some funds, but you know how expensive training and upkeep can be. We’re always looking for private donors.”
She gaped at him. “You want me to hit him up for money?”
“Why not? The program is something you’re passionate about. Maybe he’d like to support it. You may not think about these things, but I have to.” Not waiting for an answer, he sped up, quickly outdistancing her.
She was still processing the exchange when shouting ahead drew her attention.
She skied around a curve and almost collided with a boy on a snowboard who zipped in front of her across the slope.
A second boy braked to avoid hitting her and fell over backward in the snow.
Lily hurried to help him up. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“That man grabbed my brother,” he said.
Lily followed his gaze behind him, to where Scott stood, his hand clamped on the arm of a slightly older boy in a baggy blue jacket and wide-legged plaid pants. Lily looked back at the boy at her feet. “Were you hucking off the rocks?” she asked.
He stuck out his lower lip. “We made sure nobody was coming before we did it. We weren’t hurting anyone.”
“Come on, get up.” She offered her hand to the boy. He hesitated, then took it, and she helped him to his feet. Then she pulled out a pair of scissors.
“You’re not going to take my pass, are you?” the boy wailed.
“You can pick it up next week in the pass office,” she said as she cut the nylon tie that attached his ski pass to his jacket. “That is, if this is your first offense. Second offense means you’re done for the season.”
“That’s not fair!” the boy wailed. Up ahead, his brother was giving Scott grief. Lily skied up to join her boss.
“I got the brother’s pass,” she said.
“You people are going to hear from our dad,” the older brother said. He was red-faced, frost forming on the nascent moustache above his thin upper lip.
“He’s welcome to give me a call,” Scott said. “I’ll tell him how you were trespassing in closed terrain and endangering your own life and the lives of others.” He pocketed the boy’s pass. “Now ski down and go home.”
They watched the two boys head down the run. Scott looked at the rocks above the run. “We need to go up there and restring the ropes.”
“Easier to ski over from Daisy Chain,” she said, naming the run that led above and behind them.
“Then let’s do it.”
They spent the next hour restringing the ropes, closing a narrow section of a run where the snow had melted off to expose rock, and redirecting skier traffic away from a lift that was temporarily closed due to a malfunction.
Working with Scott wasn’t as bad as Lily had feared.
He didn’t try to tell her how to do her job, and he was pleasant with the public.
When two girls skied up to them, he stopped what he was doing and gave them his full attention.
“Do you have any trading cards?” one, who looked to be about eight and wore a helmet with bunny ears, asked.
“Of the dogs,” her friend with a bright purple helmet asked.
“Here you go.” Scott offered cards featuring Hunter at the wheel of a snowmobile.
The girls squealed in delight, and squealed again when Lily passed over cards featuring Shelby’s photo. “Where are the dogs?” purple helmet asked.
“They’re resting up,” Scott said. “Running around in the snow wears them out.”
“Give them kisses for me,” rabbit ears said. She hugged the cards to her chest. “I just love dogs.”
“So do I,” Scott said, his grin almost as big as the girls’.
Seeing him like this stunned Lily. “Who knew you were such a softy,” she teased.
His smile faded. “Yeah, well, I only wish the rest of our job was as easy as interacting with kids.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got a meeting I need to get to. You should check back in at the ski patrol hut.”
“See you later,” she said, and skied away. But she stopped at the top to look back at him—a tall, graceful figure gliding down the slope. Working with him this morning hadn’t been so bad. He was good at his job, and good with people. If only he could see her as an ally, not an imposition.