“Cam, I know you’re excited, but things are working fine as they are. Don’t be in such a hurry to change the place,” Greg said, then added in a softer tone, “It’s a beautiful day. Why would you want to disrupt any of this?”
Campbell dropped the subject. There was no sense starting an argument. It was a perfect day. During the past week the temperature had hung steadily in the upper thirties during the day and the mid twenties at night. They would station all the PoleCats on the beginner trails today, and hopefully they would place some of the heavier single-barrel snow guns on the intermediate slopes. The entire family would help for the day, and with some of the winter employees they would finish securing the rest of the snowmakers later in the week.
“Hey, Parker’s car is in the lodge parking lot,” Emery called to Greg and Sammy. “Somebody get her out here. She should be a part of this, too.”
Campbell knew her family was worried about her after last Saturday’s breakfast conversation, so she tried to remain casual about the request. “You two keep working. I’ll go see if she’d like to join us.”
She started down the hill in the truck. Try as she might, she couldn’t make sense of their last encounter, four days ago. Parker had seemed genuinely happy to see her, even if she was a little distracted by the television. Campbell could hardly hold that against her. The woman had spent her entire adult life working in politics and was entitled to be a little distant on election day. Even inviting Campbell in was a big gesture of good will, but the phone call… “Black hole of civilization.” Was that really what Parker thought of Bear Run?
If Campbell’s home and family business were so beneath her, why didn’t she just hit the road? The Carsons had done fine without her, and they could do without her bad attitude right now. Besides, if the resort was so unworthy of her, why was she working sixty-five-hour weeks for a place she considered not even part of the “real world”? Like so many things about Parker, it just didn’t add up, and Campbell was getting frustrated with all her inconsistencies.
The office door was open, and Parker smiled broadly at her.
“Good morning, Campbell.” She sat behind her desk, wearing a purple and white sweatshirt that simply read “Northwestern” in large block letters. Despite Campbell’s aggravation, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Parker was truly beautiful. In fact, she was even more attractive in the sweatshirt than in her power suits, which seemed contrived, as though they were merely a calculated part of the message she tried to send. The casual attire made her appear more real and certainly more comfortable in her own skin.
“Hey, you went to Northwestern?” Campbell asked when she found her voice.
“Yeah, who wants to know?”
“One of your biggest rivals, that’s who.” Campbell took up a playfully defiant stance.
“Which one? University of Wisconsin?”
“Yep. With honors, no less.”
“Cum laude?” Parker asked, as though that fact had piqued her interest.
“Magna.” Campbell felt herself blush slightly. She wasn’t used to bragging about herself like this.
“That’s impressive.”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” Campbell teased. “Did you think you were the only one on the mountain with a Big Ten background?”
“Well, no,” she replied, flustered, but Campbell was positive from Parker’s reaction that she probably had made assumptions about her level of education. She didn’t buy it when Parker tried to cover by saying, “I just didn’t know we were rivals.”
“You can hardly consider Northwestern a real rival,” Campbell said.
“Are you insulting my Wildcats?” Parker said with a hint of laughter.
“Never. I saw them play in Madison one year. They didn’t need us to put them down. They managed to do that fine all by themselves.”
“I’ll get you for that one.” Parker smiled. “Maybe we’ll have to go down to Madison for the game next year.”
Campbell’s heart ached at the thought of returning to Madison. She knew her expression changed immediately, and she tried to cover it quickly but managed only to mumble a noncommittal, “Maybe.”
Parker must have realized she’d said something that caused Campbell to withdraw, because she stopped chuckling immediately. They both fell into an awkward silence before Parker reassumed her professional persona. “What can I do for you?”
“You can stop coming to the office on Saturdays, for starters,” Campbell replied matter-of-factly. The vivid reminder of Lynn had spoiled her kidding mood.
Parker regarded her seriously. “I do my job the best way I know how. If you have a problem with that—”
“I do.”
“You do what?” Parker asked, seeming confused.
“I have a problem with how you’re doing your job.” Campbell was tired of this conversation.
Parker flushed, either with anger or frustration. “I don’t see where working too much has ever deterred someone from researching effective marketing strategies. So unless your degree is in marketing, I suggest you stick to your own work and let me focus on mine.”
Campbell chuckled at Parker’s defensiveness. The hint of color rising in her cheeks was more flattering than the glow of the florescent lights. Were there any more pleasant ways to make her blush? “You’re missing the point.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re doing the wrong kind of research. The keys to marketing this place aren’t in those books,” she said, pointing to the conference ledgers Parker had strewn across her desk. “People come here, and come back, for the mountain, and the mountain is out there.”
Parker glanced out the window as though she had barely noticed the onset of activity on the slopes. “What are they doing?”
“We’re placing the snowguns today. It’s the unofficial start of winter,” Campbell explained patiently.
“You’re going to start making snow?”
“No, we’re going to start making snow.”
At Parker’s questioning expression, Campbell picked up her coat from where it had been draped over the back of her chair and handed it to her. “If you really want to learn about this mountain, put away the books and start experiencing it.”
“You think this will give me some extra insight that will help my job?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Campbell was learning that she got a lot further with Parker when she appealed to her sense of professionalism. While Parker might pass on an opportunity to get out on the slopes, she wasn’t likely to miss the chance to see another side of the business.
Parker shrugged. “I guess it never hurts to learn something new, especially if it might affect my livelihood.” She took the coat Campbell held out to her, their fingers brushing lightly in the exchange and leaving Campbell to wonder if the contact was accidental or perhaps more intimate.
Once outside, Campbell motioned for Parker to help her with a snow cannon. Together they shoved the carriage into position and hitched it to the back of the truck. “This is a PoleCat snowgun. We’re going to take it up to where Sammy and my dad are.”
“Okay.” Parker shrugged and climbed into the truck.
“The PoleCats will be stationed all over the base area, the flats on the mountaintop, and the beginner slopes.” As Campbell relayed the information, she watched Parker carefully for any sign of boredom, afraid she would find this type of work beneath her. Parker, however, seemed interested in taking it all in, which was promising.
“What about the intermediate trails?” Parker asked, glancing toward a trail with a sharper incline that was coming into view.
“These machines are too top-heavy to be placed on steep terrain. We’ll station some of our single- and double-barrel guns on our longer, heavy-traffic blues and blacks.”
“Blues and blacks?”
Was Parker serious? “Blue trails are intermediate ones, and black trails are for experts.”
“Oh, right. That’s how they show
up on the trail map, right?”
“Right.” Campbell nodded, caught off guard that someone who worked at a ski resort would be so clueless about the basic trail-rating system, but she didn’t have time to probe further.
“Hi, Sammy. I hear you’re getting ready to make some snow,” Parker called as soon as the truck stopped.
“We should start tonight,” Sammy said, with his characteristic broad, boyish smile. “Pretty exciting, huh?”
“Sure is.”
Parker’s smile fell somewhere short of exuberant.
“So this is a family affair,” Parker noted as they started off down the mountain again.
“Most things around here are.” Campbell wondered if Parker was ready to work alongside the family. She depended on the mountain now, just like the rest of them, and that bond could be as thick as any blood relation, but she doubted Parker understood that yet.
They stopped next to a large storage shed around the corner from the main lodge, where several of the snowguns were already uncovered and assembled on their metal sled frames, and quickly loaded several guns into the truck bed. Campbell watched appreciatively as Parker helped lift the heavy machinery. Despite her slender frame, she was anything but frail. When she pushed up the sleeves of her sweatshirt, revealing the subtle flex of her biceps, Campbell’s temperature rose for reasons that had nothing to do with their shared physical exertion. “Those guns we just loaded were Snow Giant single-barrel snowguns,” Campbell said. “They’re a lot more powerful than the PoleCats, so we’ll move them all over the mountain for most of the season.”
“You won’t need them all winter, will you?” Parker was quickly accepting the role of student.
“Man-made snow is much denser and therefore more resilient, so even when we have a good snowfall, we’ll make snow at night too and mix it with the natural stuff,” Campbell answered. “We don’t like to have too many blowers running during the day while the skiers are here.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” Campbell moved the steering wheel to send them up the mountain at a better angle.
“Why not run them when the skiers are here?”
Campbell chuckled. “You’ve obviously never skied in front of one of these before.”
Parker stiffened, her deep brown eyes clouding over. “No, but I know about skiing. I spent two spring breaks in Colorado listening to my brother obsess over back bowls and moguls.”
Campbell wasn’t sure what had set Parker off, but she had clearly been offended. What nerve had she inadvertently hit? “I didn’t mean to imply anything.” She measured her words carefully. “These guns shoot a high-pressure mix of air and water that freezes almost immediately, pelting anyone nearby with considerable force. They’re loud and strong and pumping out lake-water snow that doesn’t taste very good if you breathe it in.”
“That doesn’t sound pleasant,” Parker said, her tone much more level.
“That’s why we run them at night as much as we can, but of course in the fall and spring we sometimes need to go around the clock to keep the base layer thick enough to ski on.”
The conversation halted as they reached the first station and stopped the truck. Emery was waiting there with his twin sons and Noel, and after quick introductions they all set to work unloading the snowguns.
“Here’s a station,” Campbell said as she pointed to two pipes protruding a few feet out of the ground just on the edge of a line of trees. “One pipe is for the water pumped from the lake, and the other is for the compressed air. They both feed into the barrel of the gun here and are expelled into the air at very high speeds.”
“And that freezes into snow and makes huge piles,” one of the twins added.
The other boy jumped in. “Then you ski over them and get big air.”
Campbell was pleased to see Parker reward the boys’ enthusiasm with what appeared to be the beginnings of a genuine smile. She was even happier to see Parker turn that little grin toward her, causing her breath to emerge in shorter bursts. This less-guarded version of Parker was much more likeable than the one she had previously come to know.
The excitement in everyone’s voice was evident. Even Noel joined the fun by saying, “I’m going down a blue this year.”
Campbell laughed. “Only if you take me or Sammy with you.”
“Or Parker?” the child asked, staring expectantly up at them.
Parker had an unmistakable expression of concern and, inexplicably, Campbell had a sudden urge to protect her. “Only if Parker wants to.”
Parker smiled nervously at the child. “Campbell is probably a better teacher than I am.”
Campbell realized Parker hadn’t made the statement out of modesty. She appeared genuinely concerned, and her furrowed brow and tightly pressed lips were much less alluring than the earlier look of happy amusement. Something was wrong, but before Campbell could question her further, the kids were clambering to unload the snowguns. She returned her attention to the current task, but she definitely needed to figure out what was going on.
Campbell spent much of the rest of the day trying to piece together Parker’s odd reactions. They had placed well over half of the snowguns, and Parker even became an asset to the team by the end of the day. She was a quick learner and eventually warmed to the more technical aspects of the task, learning the intricacies of snowmaking. Campbell doubted that Parker appreciated the finer points of working alongside the Carson family or felt any meaningful connection to the land, but at least she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. She hadn’t seemed concerned about the physical labor either, never once shying away from lifting or towing anything. Had Campbell misjudged her? Parker obviously would never be a happy member of the Bear Run team, but perhaps she had more depth than the “fragile bourgeois sensibilities” Campbell had accused her of.
In fact, the only times Parker had seemed concerned was when they talked about skiing. Campbell couldn’t figure out what would cause such reactions in a woman who was normally so self-assured. Then it all started to come together. Parker didn’t know the color code of the slopes, the purpose of the snow guns, or if she could keep up with a five-year-old. Parker didn’t know how to ski.
Campbell’s temper flashed hot. She had been about to let Parker off the hook, only to find out Parker had misled her and her family about something so central to their lives. The woman was maddening. Early on, she could have simply stated that she didn’t ski, and no one would have held it against her, but no, she was too stubborn to admit she was less than perfect in any way. Now she had dug herself into a hole she wasn’t likely to find her way out of, and it served her right.
Campbell wanted so badly to give in to her sense of self-righteousness, wanted to feel vindicated in knowing she had simply misread Parker, and she wanted to take pleasure in exposing her. Instead, she felt frustrated that she was already thinking of ways to bail Parker out.
Chapter Seven
Parker stood up and stretched out her back. She had been hunched over her desk for hours and was starting to doze off. Yawning, she looked out the window at the mountain and its looming gray clouds. The snowguns had been blowing for almost a week, and huge piles of snow were appearing at random intervals all over the slopes. The entire scene was rather surreal. Not much natural snow had fallen yet, so the parking lot was covered by the occasional puddle, but on the other side of the building, a winter wonderland was springing up. The piles of snow hadn’t developed out of thin air, and she was unusually proud of having helped create them.
Working alongside the Carson family made her feel part of something larger than herself. Her involvement wasn’t as thrilling as her work in politics and certainly didn’t matter as much in the grand scheme of things, but it was something. As she recalled the afternoon she helped place the snowguns, she realized again how much she had enjoyed working by Campbell’s side. She had isolated herself since arriving at Bear Run, but now it was good to have someone to talk to, even if they did occasiona
lly trade barbs.
Sammy and Campbell were driving the massive snow groomer on the beginners’ hill. The large, yellow, tanklike machine that had been parked out back when she’d arrived that morning seemed rather ominous despite its cheerful color. Set on conveyor treads half as tall as she was, it featured a huge corrugated metal plow that Campbell and Sammy had been using to push the piles in the beginners’ area for several hours so that they all blended into one even layer of man-made snow. The area now resembled a small frosted square of cake, with the rest of the icing heaped in haphazard globs.
Parker returned to her desk. She had finished analyzing the conference ledgers, having reorganized all the records and plugged the data into a spreadsheet that allowed her to study the information in a number of ways. No trend jumped out at her like she had discovered with the season passes. The conferences were exactly what she would expect. A lot of church groups, some Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops, and some academic departments from nearby colleges held events and annual retreats there. The small resort also pulled in some local businesses from time to time. As far as she could see, the conference center wasn’t lacking anything, but it wasn’t outstanding either.
She flipped through the information for the tenth time in the past two hours. She had obviously missed something, failed to consider some angle. A soft knock on the door roused her, and then Campbell stood in the doorway, her hair peeking out from underneath a stocking cap and her blue eyes hinting of mischief. In her hands was a pair of thick black plastic boots.
“New pair of shoes?” Parker asked, and smiled. Something about this woman made her feel warm inside. They hadn’t exactly hit it off, so their connection was inexplicable, but unmistakable. Of course it didn’t hurt that Campbell was built like a wilderness goddess. Her tan skin and rippling muscles were certainly hot enough to raise Parker’s body temperature a few degrees.
“Yeah, they’re Kenneth Cole and so this season.” Campbell affected a superior tone.
“Oh, my God, they’re divine. I’ve always wanted a pair just like that.”
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