Papa’s eyes lit up as he set down his glass and answered my sister. “The rope pulled me up the mountain with limited effort. Theo’s system is genius.”
“Did you go fast on the way down? Were you afraid?” Fiona asked, her eyes wide.
“I was not afraid, but remember, I skied in Switzerland on holiday as a child,” Papa said. “I’d forgotten how exhilarating it is.”
“Dear me, I do hope you won’t make me do it,” Mama said. “I’m not keen on heights or speed.”
Papa flashed an indulgent smile her way. “You, my love, will stay in the lodge sipping a hot toddy and watching your husband conquer the mountain.”
“That sounds lovely,” Mama said, smiling back at him, looking pretty in a beaded cream dress with her golden hair piled on top of her head. Long white gloves ran the length of her arms.
“What’s the lodge like?” Fion
a asked. “Will it be fancy?”
“I was imagining it more rustic,” Phillip said. “With large beams and high ceilings.”
We all turned to look at him.
He flushed at the attention. I had the feeling he hadn’t meant to speak.
“Are you familiar with ski lodges?” Mama asked.
“Not really,” Phillip said. “I imagine them that way, for some reason.”
“Do you fancy architecture?” Papa asked.
“Nothing so complex as that,” Phillip said. “Cabinets and furniture suit me fine.”
“We don’t have a furniture shop in town,” Cymbeline said, her eyes sparkling. She’d inherited Papa’s excitement around business. If she’d been born a man, I could easily see her opening a business of her own. Now, if all went well, her best hope was to work for my brothers. She was a born leader but needed something to focus on or she got herself in trouble.
“True enough,” Papa said. “I’d like to have one so we are as independent from the city as possible. As it stands now, people make their own or have them shipped at great expense on the train. Perhaps you could make something for us in the barn to show me an example of what you can make. A business loan could be arranged if I like what I see.”
I stole a glance at Phillip. He was leaning forward slightly with his spoon hovering above his bowl. “I’m not a braggart, Lord Barnes, but I’m skilled. Where would I get wood?”
“We have a forest of it right here.” Papa pointed toward the windows. “Cedars, firs, quaking aspens. If you can cut it down on my land, you can have it.”
“I’ve not cut down a tree before,” Phillip said.
“I have,” Cymbeline said. “With an ax. There’s nothing to it.”
“You could take him out, Cym, and show him how we do it in Colorado,” Papa said.
“I’d love to,” Cymbeline said. “You have to be patient, chipping away at it one swing at a time.”
“Patience is something I’m good at,” Phillip said.
“Don’t forget the triangle part,” Fiona said.
“Right. You make a forty-five-degree angled notch in the trunk,” Cymbeline said. “We’ll show you.”
“Girls chop down trees in Colorado?” Phillip asked, looking from Cymbeline to me, then to Papa.
“We do whatever a boy can do here,” Cymbeline said with a flash of rebellion in her eyes. “If we want to, anyway. Jo doesn’t care for rough jobs, but I do.”
“The noise it makes when the tree falls scares me,” Fiona said. “But I try to be brave so Cymbeline doesn’t get impatient with me.”
“I worry about their safety, of course,” Mama said. “But these girls know the woods as well as their papa. However, might I suggest that a trip to the local sawmill, where they have cut wood, might be more efficient?”