Page 71 of Our Sadie

AS TUMULTUOUS AS THE month of December was, January seems to have turned things around. Sadie takes us all snowboarding, even though she sometimes struggles to maintain her balance. We keep to the bunny slopes, falling more often than we stay upright at first. I get the hang of it, and so does Dom, but for as built as Jerome is, he’s a bit of a klutz on the snow.

That’s when he shouts out something I’m stunned to hear.

“I’m a reader more than an athlete. We can’t all be jocks like Zach over there.”

I don’t know whether to be flattered or astounded. Either way, I nearly plant myself face-first into a snowbank again.

With Maxine there during the weekdays, we tend to conduct our activities on the more PG-rated side of things. We’ll hang out in the living room by the fire. We’ll watch movies or shows in the home theater. We’ll pester the house manager as she prepares meals in the kitchen. Or at least, I do. That’s kind of our thing.

Every week or so, I’ll call or Zoom with Mom and Dad. Today, it’s a call. And right off the bat, I notice that Mom’s sounding worse, even if she’s cheerful in spirit.

“Are you having fun on your New Hampshire excursion?” she asks, her voice a rasp.

Neither of my parents know what I’m truly doing here. They think I’ve accepted employment at a ski lodge for a tidy sum. They never heard about the Fans4You incident, either. I might’ve grown up with them as my legal guardians and beloved caregivers, but it’s been a while since I felt like their carefree kid.

“I am. Got to snowboard the other day.”

“Sounds exciting,” Dad chimes in. “At least it’s not all work and no play.”

“Nope,” I say brightly. They seriously have no clue. But that’s on me, of course.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. They have enough to fret about with Mom’s numerous doctor’s visits and their dwindling finances.

“You guys need anything? I could send you a care package with New Hampshire stuff in it.”

“Ooh, that’d be nice,” Mom says at the same time as Dad replies, “Not necessary, son.” Then he backtracks.

“Unless you’d like something, Heidi.”

“I would. We’ve driven through there, but I don’t remember if we stopped to actually smell the roses.”

“We did,” Dad reminds her, sounding cautious. Mom doesn’t recall things like she used to. “Remember that pear orchard? And the pumpkin patch with the cornstalk maze?”

“Oh, yes.”

Yet I can tell from her tone that she’s faking it. She does this a lot nowadays. Falsifies her memories so Dad and I won’t worry.

We still do.

But all I can do is what I’m doing. I’m saving every dime Elegance deposits in my account for them. Though I guess I need to ask Sadie what might be around here that would be appropriately touristy enough to mail them.

As soon as I ask her, she knows just the thing.

“We could go to the Market in Meredith. It’s only about an hour and a half away, and the roads should be clear now. They have all sorts of mugs and stuff your parents might like. And I’ll stick one of our bottles of wine in, too. They come from all over, but we have plenty from right here in New Hampshire.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” I double check with her. I don’t want to raid the stores that her deceased mother and father collected.

“Not at all. We can go tomorrow.”

I’m a talker most of the time, but as Jerome drives us away from the chalet and across the most rural area I’ve ever been to, I say virtually nothing. I’m too caught up in what lies right outside this SUV’s windows. Forest for as far as the eye can see and mountains that change in elevation so that rivers and lakes become visible in the valleys.

It’s gorgeous.

Sadie’s been playing some music in the background up in her shotgun position when she turns to me.

“All right, Dom is the strong and silent sort. Jerome is a reader and gets contemplative. But you? Why aren’t you jabbering all our heads off?”

I’d be offended, but she’s not wrong.

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