Part 19 (2/2)

Trevor skied off first, then Bob, then Sylvia. I took off last.

I watched as Trevor swung his skis back and forth smoothly over the snow in parallel consecutive arcs, having no difficulty. He was a good athlete, a confident skier who could handle any terrain, though he wasn't at ease on extremely steep slopes. Given that he'd skied only a few years, he'd picked up the sport quickly.

Bob, from what I could tell watching him make a few turns, appeared to be a good intermediate skier. His skis were parallel most of the time, but he skidded his turns instead of carving them. Other than the fact it was early in the season and his form was probably rusty, chances were good he could ski something more difficult, though I couldn't tell on this flat ballroom slope.

Sylvia tried to make parallel turns, but forced them, almost willing her skis to turn. I had no idea what would happen should she end up on something steeper. If she could resort to a good aggressive snowplow, and stopped often to slow her speed, she might be okay.

I liked the skis Trevor had picked out for me, fairly lightweight and not too stiff. They worked the soft snow smoothly, and the edges were sharp, should I hit a patch of ice. Though it didn't appear there would be any ice today, certainly not if the sun stayed out.

We stopped farther up and rejoined.

”Wow,” said Bob. ”The snow is great.” He was breathing hard, and I suspected the alt.i.tude had winded him.

”Yes,” said Sylvia. ”How did I do, Gwyn?”

”Fine. How did you feel?”

”Great, but of course it isn't steep at all here.”

”I'm not crazy about steep,” said Trevor. ”I like the intermediate runs, where I can cruise. And these new skis, I can't believe how great they turn. You'd love them, Bob.”

”Yeah? Maybe I should try a pair. What are they? Volkls?”

We continued down, stopping and starting several times, all managing to stay on our feet. I didn't try to show off, though I could have. I could have easily picked up speed and left them all a half-mile back in no time. But then I might also never find them again. And I wasn't about to leave Sylvia alone with Trevor.

We wound our way down the mountain and stopped in the line to a four-place chairlift. Bob and Trevor studied the trail maps again.

”It looks as if we can pick up several different trails from here,” said Bob, ”including several black runs we need to avoid, unless you and Gwyn want to ski them.” He looked up.

”Not particularly,” said Trevor. He pointed to a spot on the map. ”But here's a great one we might try, Ruthie's to Roch Run.”

Bob and Trevor both looked to Sylvia.

”Maybe I'll try that after lunch,” she said. ”So far I'm having fun on the easier runs.”

”True,” said Bob. ”And we haven't skied this one.”

We took the chair up.

It appeared to me that Sylvia was going to make all the decisions unless someone stopped her. As we slid off the chair at the next stop, I sidled over and whispered to Trevor, ”Why don't we do Ruthie's ourselves and meet them at the bottom? We're never going to ski anything good this way.”

”I can't.”

”Why not?”

But he didn't answer because Bob and Sylvia skied over to join us.

”You two go ahead and ski the difficult run,” said Sylvia. ”Bob and I can do this one and meet you at the bottom.”

I looked to Trevor.

”No,” he said. ”Let's all ski together. It's more fun that way.”

Sylvia seemed pleased with that response, but added, ”Well, I tried.”

I again followed them slowly down the slope, but I was steaming. Eventually, Sylvia crossed the tips of her skis and tumbled. Trevor rushed over to her and gently helped her up. Watching this made me so angry I thought about leaving and skiing to the chair alone, but I knew that was exactly what Sylvia would have liked.

Eventually, I cornered Trevor again. ”Are we ever going to get to ski anything?”

”Look,” he said. ”I can't leave them. Obviously, you don't see that. We're their guests. Okay?” His tone softened. ”But you go on and ski. I'll make some excuse, say your boots are hurting or something.”

”No.”

”Why not?”

”I just don't want to.”

”Then don't complain.”

We stopped for lunch at twelve-thirty, and though we could have stayed on the mountain, we-that is-Sylvia, decided to have lunch in town.

I didn't say a word as I brought my skis through the door of the condo and changed into my snow boots.

Trevor was quiet too. Then, as we walked back out the door, he turned to me. ”Would you rather I'd left you at home for the weekend? It's not my fault we're not as free as we'd like to be. But we're here, aren't we? I'm not working.”

I nodded.

”And we're skiing,” he said. ”And now we're going to have a great lunch. I'm having fun. Try to have fun with me. Please.”

”I just don't like Sylvia.”

”Why not?”

”I just don't.”

He frowned, then shook his head. ”It's because of what I said before, isn't it? About her being attracted to me. Gwyn, I work with her. I have to be nice, but I'm not interested in her. Don't go and get jealous on me. It's flattering, but it's silly.”

”I am not jealous of her. She's bossy and self-centered, that's all.”

”Okay, but she's basically my boss right now, and this deal is very important to me, so try to remember that the rest of the weekend.”

Lunch took an hour and a half, and by the time we were back on the gondola, it was past two o'clock. Again, we took an easy run, the same we had started the day on.

Midway down the slope, Sylvia skied over and stopped near me. ”I think I'm ready for that ski lesson now, Gwyn, if you don't mind. My legs feel warmed up enough to try something more difficult, though maybe not right away. What am I doing wrong?”

Trevor gave me a look, and I understood. Do not say anything that could offend.

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