Making Spirits Bright by Fern Michaels, Rosalind Noonan, Nan Rossiter, Elizabeth Bass Page B
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pushed him away. “We have an audience.” She gestured to a little girl no more than five or six years old, staring at her. The child couldn’t seem to take her eyes off them. Melanie removed her helmet and shook out the long braid she’d wound up on top of her head. She lowered herself to the child’s level. Before she could ask a question, the little girl screamed, “You’re not my mommy!”
Melanie turned when she heard a shrill cry coming from behind.
“Penelope! There you are! I told you to meet me in the lunchroom with your instructor. Where is your instructor?” the woman asked, cupping a hand across her forehead in search of the missing instructor.
The woman, who was obviously Penelope’s mother, wore ski attire identical to Melanie’s. Red-and-black Spyder jacket and black pants with red stripes running down the leg. No wonder the little girl had mistaken Melanie for her mother.
Melanie stood up as Penelope slid into her harried mother, attaching herself to her mother’s legs. “I had to pee, and that man said I had to wait till it was time to eat. I hate skiing, Mommy. I want to go home now!” The little girl started to wail, her cries attracting the attention of the other skiers at the base of the mountain.
“Don’t ever leave your instructor, do you understand?” the mother admonished. “We discussed this before.”
Melanie wanted to intervene on poor little Penelope’s behalf, but it really wasn’t her place. She stood next to Bryce while the little girl pitched a fit that could have earned her an Oscar nomination.
When the mother realized they were being watched by a large crowd, she grabbed the child by the hand. “She doesn’t like to ski,” she said to those gathered around. Without another word, she pulled Penelope alongside her and headed for the main lodge. The little girl continued to cry.
“Poor kid,” Bryce said. “If she doesn’t like to ski, she shouldn’t be forced. That can be dangerous. Grace never cared that much for skiing as a kid, and Mom and Dad never forced it on either of us.”
Surprised that Bryce would even comment on the child, let alone have an opinion about the mother’s treatment, Melanie gave a mental high five. This guy was turning out to be much more than she’d hoped for. He was not just another pretty face.
“It’s part of the Colorado heritage,” Bryce said. “If you live here and don’t like to ski, you’re not right in the head. Speaking of which, I have had enough skiing for one day. I’m pooped.”
Bryce fastened the binders of his skis together and tucked them under one arm along with his poles. Melanie followed suit, suddenly glad she wasn’t parked in the spillover lot.
They walked to the parking lot in silence, the crunching of their heavy boots on clumps of brown snow on the asphalt the only sound.
“So, are we still on for dinner? Grace and Max say that new Italian restaurant downtown is to die for.”
Melanie wanted to appear as if she were considering his question even though they both knew the answer. “Odie and Clovis are with Stephanie, so I have to go to The Snow Zone before I go home.”
“Okayyy,” Bryce said. “I’m assuming they’re your pets,” he stated flatly.
Maybe strike one. “You don’t like animals?” Melanie said. They reached her Navigator, and she removed her keys from her pocket, opened the hatch, and put her ski gear inside. She sighed with relief when she removed her heavy ski boots. Stepping into her Uggs, she smiled as Bryce watched her. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Do you like animals or not?”
“I have three dogs, so I guess you could call that a yes.”
Scratch strike one. Another mental high five.
“Really? You never mentioned them.” Melanie felt so comfortable with Bryce, more so than she had with any guy she’d known for such a short length of time. After the water incident, she’d relaxed, letting down her defenses. Whatever will be, will be. She closed
Melanie turned when she heard a shrill cry coming from behind.
“Penelope! There you are! I told you to meet me in the lunchroom with your instructor. Where is your instructor?” the woman asked, cupping a hand across her forehead in search of the missing instructor.
The woman, who was obviously Penelope’s mother, wore ski attire identical to Melanie’s. Red-and-black Spyder jacket and black pants with red stripes running down the leg. No wonder the little girl had mistaken Melanie for her mother.
Melanie stood up as Penelope slid into her harried mother, attaching herself to her mother’s legs. “I had to pee, and that man said I had to wait till it was time to eat. I hate skiing, Mommy. I want to go home now!” The little girl started to wail, her cries attracting the attention of the other skiers at the base of the mountain.
“Don’t ever leave your instructor, do you understand?” the mother admonished. “We discussed this before.”
Melanie wanted to intervene on poor little Penelope’s behalf, but it really wasn’t her place. She stood next to Bryce while the little girl pitched a fit that could have earned her an Oscar nomination.
When the mother realized they were being watched by a large crowd, she grabbed the child by the hand. “She doesn’t like to ski,” she said to those gathered around. Without another word, she pulled Penelope alongside her and headed for the main lodge. The little girl continued to cry.
“Poor kid,” Bryce said. “If she doesn’t like to ski, she shouldn’t be forced. That can be dangerous. Grace never cared that much for skiing as a kid, and Mom and Dad never forced it on either of us.”
Surprised that Bryce would even comment on the child, let alone have an opinion about the mother’s treatment, Melanie gave a mental high five. This guy was turning out to be much more than she’d hoped for. He was not just another pretty face.
“It’s part of the Colorado heritage,” Bryce said. “If you live here and don’t like to ski, you’re not right in the head. Speaking of which, I have had enough skiing for one day. I’m pooped.”
Bryce fastened the binders of his skis together and tucked them under one arm along with his poles. Melanie followed suit, suddenly glad she wasn’t parked in the spillover lot.
They walked to the parking lot in silence, the crunching of their heavy boots on clumps of brown snow on the asphalt the only sound.
“So, are we still on for dinner? Grace and Max say that new Italian restaurant downtown is to die for.”
Melanie wanted to appear as if she were considering his question even though they both knew the answer. “Odie and Clovis are with Stephanie, so I have to go to The Snow Zone before I go home.”
“Okayyy,” Bryce said. “I’m assuming they’re your pets,” he stated flatly.
Maybe strike one. “You don’t like animals?” Melanie said. They reached her Navigator, and she removed her keys from her pocket, opened the hatch, and put her ski gear inside. She sighed with relief when she removed her heavy ski boots. Stepping into her Uggs, she smiled as Bryce watched her. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Do you like animals or not?”
“I have three dogs, so I guess you could call that a yes.”
Scratch strike one. Another mental high five.
“Really? You never mentioned them.” Melanie felt so comfortable with Bryce, more so than she had with any guy she’d known for such a short length of time. After the water incident, she’d relaxed, letting down her defenses. Whatever will be, will be. She closed
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