Kayla stopped with her fork poised in midair. “Tom? Tom who?”
Élise rolled her eyes. “You should try looking up from your phone occasionally. There is a whole world going on out here.” She beamed at Elizabeth. “Me, I like Tom very much, and he grows the best tomatoes. He has good hands, I think, and I love a man with good hands. Sean, he is the same.”
“Tomatoes?” Kayla’s face cleared. “Oh, that Tom.”
Brenna, relieved at the change of subject, sipped the tea Élise put in front of her. Given that her friend was holding a hot pan, she decided not to tell her it was disgusting. “I love Tom. I’ve known him forever.”
“He has been very patient.” Elizabeth took a sip of tea, paused, swallowed and pulled a face. “I confess I didn’t find it easy after Michael died. But Tom has been a good friend to me, and friendship is the best basis for any relationship, isn’t it?”
“This is true,” Élise said, “but you are never too old for good sex, as Alice is always telling us. And now you might as well pour away that tea because I can see you all exchanging looks and forcing it down. And next time ask me for coffee.”
* * *
“GUESS WHAT?” JESS BOUNCED into the kitchen the following morning. “School is shut again. Snow day! Can we ski powder? Dad? Are you listening? Why are you staring out the window?”
Tyler stirred. “What are you doing here? I thought Grandma was dropping you at school.”
“I just told you, snow day!” Jess frowned and dumped her bag on the floor. “What’s wrong?”
Guilt mingled with thoughts that threatened to set his brain on fire.
He’d texted Brenna twice, and she hadn’t answered.
He had no idea where she was.
“Nothing is wrong.” Restless, Tyler grabbed his jacket. Maybe it would help to be out in the mountains. “Get dressed, we’re going skiing.”
Jess tugged on her boots. “Are we inviting Brenna?”
“She’s teaching.”
“Dad, what’s going on?” Jess stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her. “Something has happened, hasn’t it?”
“No. Get your coat.” He was out of the door before she could ask any more questions.
They skied a few runs together, then Tyler coached her, making her do the same run over and over again, repeating turns until he was satisfied. And she didn’t complain, not even when she caught an edge, fell and tumbled down the slope toward him.
She lay, winded, staring up at the sky. “I guess I messed that one up.”
He stooped and hauled her to her feet, rescuing her skis. “Your weight was wrong on the inside ski. You’re spraying snow, which means you’re sliding not carving, but aside from that little lapse, you’re doing good. Really good.”
And Brenna was right. He was enjoying teaching her. Far more than he’d ever anticipated he would.
Jess emptied snow out of her gloves and scraped it from the front of her ski. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Go on.”
“You’ll think I’m a wimp.”
“Tell me.”
Jess shrugged and shifted her gaze to the top of the slope. “When I’m up there looking down, before I start, I’m scared.”
“Of course you are.” Tyler reached out and brushed snow from her jacket. “We all are.”
Her eyes widened. “Even you?”
“Oh, yeah. You ask any racer, and he’ll say the same. If he doesn’t, he’s lying. Most of us know how it feels to fall, and in that moment before you start when you’re looking down the hill, you start to see the worst that could happen. And let’s face it, when you’re flying down at those speeds, it doesn’t take much to make you crash—you hook an edge or take a wrong turn—” he shrugged, not wanting to dwell on the chilling options “—it’s not that you don’t feel fear, but you control it. And that takes discipline. What people don’t realize is that it’s not only a physical challenge out there, it’s an emotional challenge.”