Page 18 of Ghost of Ex-mas Past
“Honey, you’re not the only one.” Mom pats Bea’s hand.
“Okay, but you’re choosing not to ski, and that’s totally fair. But like, we went to Pithole for years and no one ever skied there.”
“That’s because Pithole was a pit hole,” Yvette says.
That’s not entirely accurate because my dad grew up in the area and that’s where he learned to ski, but Dad doesn’t defend his hometown, either because he’s warmed up to the luxuries of Here, New York, or because the chicken tenders basket he got is getting cold and he’s too busy eating it.
“Well, you know we went to Maine for our thirtieth anniversary,” Erik says, slinging an arm around Jody and pulling her into a snuggle.
“I won the over-sixty beginner race that week,” Jody adds proudly.
“Fine. And you two I get”—Bea points between Yvette and Lance, who live in Chicago—“because lake-effect snow and Montana boy. And I know Naomi went with friends from her running club. But you two?” Now she points at Kayla and Jasper.
“What, are you saying Black people can’t ski?” he teases.
“No, I’m saying someone who grew up in Louisiana and now lives in Florida doesn’t have many opportunities to learn to ski.”
“My athletic prowess knows no bounds.”
“I think the real question,” Yvette interjects, “is why don’tyouknow how to ski?”
“Well.” Bea frowns and picks at her french fries. “I guess I haven’t had anyone to go with.”
There’s a heavy moment of silence around the table while Erik and Jody give each other concerned looks.
“Well, that’s going to change today,” I say. “You’ve got a lesson in half an hour.”
Bea looks up. “Wait, what? I have to take a lesson? Why can’t one of you teach me?” She looks pointedly at her sisters.
Kayla holds up her hands. “Last time I tried to teach you something you told me I made you look like a vampire.”
“You had used a concealer two shades too pale and black mascara!”
“I was eighteen and in beauty school!”
“Girls, enough,” Jody says.
“Dad?” Bea asks.
“Sorry, pumpkin. I’ve got my own snow bunny to keep track of. Besides, you know what they call a slow skier? A slope-poke.”
There’s a collective groan.
Bea pouts. “So I’m the remedial skier. Great.”
“You didn’t ask Charlie to teach you,” Kayla says, lifting an eyebrow.
I interrupt. “She doesn’t have to because she’s taking a lesson and I’ve already lined up the instructor.” My plan is to hit the slopes with my dad and Bea’s parents for a while and then check on Bea after her lesson and see if she wants to do the bunny slope. She’ll do way better with a professional ski instructor than with me anyway. I’m good enough for a small-town ski resort, but she’ll get more out of a paid lesson.
Besides, I’m happy to treat.
Bea and Naomi pester Jasper on his skiing skills while everyone else finishes their food, and then we hit the slopes. I’m in line for the ski lift with the rest of the family, but I can see Bea over by the bunny slope. I keep glancing over as we get closer to the lift, growing more and more concerned by what I see.
The ski instructor is a young guy, maybe early twenties, and something he says makes Bea laugh. Her dimples come out in full force and he touches her arm. Objectively, he’s a good-looking guy, but he’s too young for her, right?
What interest would she have in dating a college kid?
“Okay, we’re up,” Jody says, followed by a “weeeeee” as she slides down the tiny incline to get in position for the chair. Dad and Erik got on the previous one while I wasn’t paying attention, so now I’m going to be riding with Bea’s mom.
