Chapter 2

We brought our own equipment. It's good stuff, but it's not flashy.

"How wonderful," she continues. "Though I do hope you brought proper equipment. The slopes here can be quite challenging."

There it is. The first dig of the day.

"We're fine," I say evenly. "The kids have been skiing since they were little."

"Oh, I'm sure they have." Her tone says she's not sure at all. "But this isn't exactly a beginner mountain."

Phoenix and Aurora exchange a look. They're used to people underestimating them. It usually doesn't end well for the other person.

We head to the equipment room. This is where things get interesting.

Delphine's gear is ridiculous. I'm talking limited edition everything. Skis that probably cost more than my car payment. Boots that look like they've never seen actual snow.

She notices me looking. "These are custom made in Italy. Marcus got them for me last Christmas. The waiting list is usually two years, but we have connections."

Of course they do.

She picks up Aurora's skis and frowns. "Are these... rental skis?"

"They're mine," Aurora says quietly. She's fifteen but she doesn't back down. "I've had them for three years."

"Three years?" Delphine looks horrified. "My goodness, you must get new equipment every season. The technology advances so quickly."

I feel my jaw tighten. She's criticizing my daughter's gear. In front of my daughter.

"Aurora's skis are fine," I say. My voice has an edge now.

"Oh, I'm sure they are," Delphine says quickly. "For... recreational skiing. But on these advanced slopes, with this ice, well." She shrugs like it's out of her hands.

Phoenix steps closer to his sister. "Aurora's skis are perfect for what she does."

"And what exactly does she do?" Delphine asks. Like she's humoring a child.

"She skis," Aurora says simply.

We head to the slopes. The mountain is gorgeous. Fresh powder, blue skies, perfect conditions. If I weren't dealing with Delphine's passive-aggressive commentary, I might actually enjoy this.

"Let's start with something easy," Delphine suggests. She points to a green slope. "That way everyone can keep up."

Phoenix looks at me. I nod. Let her underestimate them. It's her mistake.

At the top, she gestures toward the gentle slope. "After you."

But Phoenix and Aurora are already looking at something else. The expert trail. Double black diamond. Steep, narrow, and definitely not for beginners.

"Actually," Phoenix says casually, "we'll take that one."

He points to the expert slope. Delphine's face goes pale.

"Oh no, that's far too dangerous. That's for professional skiers only."

"We know," Aurora says. She's already adjusting her bindings.

Before Delphine can protest further, my kids push off. They disappear down the expert slope like they were born on skis.

Which, honestly, they kind of were.

I follow them down the easier slope, staying where I can watch. Delphine comes after me, but she's obviously struggling. Her fancy gear isn't helping with her technique.

Below us, Phoenix and Aurora are putting on a show.

Phoenix hits a jump and goes airborne. He spins, flips, and lands perfectly. A small crowd of skiers has stopped to watch. Someone starts filming with their phone.

Aurora's doing something completely different. She's treating the slope like a dance floor. Every turn is perfect. Every movement flows into the next. It's like watching art in motion.

More people stop. They're pointing and talking. I catch bits of conversation.

"Who are those kids?"

"That boy just did a double cork."

"The girl skis like a professional."

By the time we reach the bottom, there's a decent crowd watching. Phoenix and Aurora ski up to us like nothing happened. They're not even breathing hard.

Delphine finally makes it down. She's out of breath and her perfect hair is a mess.

"That was... impressive," she says. But she doesn't sound impressed. She sounds annoyed.

A ski instructor skis over. He's grinning ear to ear.

"Excuse me," he says to the kids. "That was incredible. Are you two training somewhere around here?"

"Not exactly," Phoenix says.

"Well, you should be. I've been teaching for twenty years, and I've rarely seen technique like that."

Delphine's smile is getting tighter by the minute.

"They're just... naturally athletic," she says dismissively. "Beginner's luck, really."

The instructor looks at her like she's crazy. "Ma'am, that wasn't beginner anything. That was world-class skiing."

We ski a few more runs. Every time, Phoenix and Aurora show off a little more. And I can see Delphine getting more and more frustrated.

By lunch, she's given up pretending to be nice.

"It's such a shame," she says as we sit down at the mountain-top restaurant. "All that natural talent, but no proper training. No real coaching."

"They've had coaching," I say carefully.

"Oh, from where? The local recreation center?" She laughs like it's a joke. "I suppose that's fine for... hobbyists. But serious skiing requires serious investment. Years in Switzerland. Olympic-level instruction."

She's talking about my kids like they're charity cases.

"My instructor in Vail was pretty good," Aurora says quietly.

"Vail?" Delphine pauses. "Well, I suppose that's... adequate. For American standards."

I want to punch her. Instead, I smile and change the subject.

The restaurant is full of wealthy skiers. Delphine obviously knows most of them. She keeps waving at tables full of people who look like they stepped out of a luxury magazine.

"Oh, there's the Ashford family," she says. "And the Brennans. You simply must meet everyone."

She waves over a group of women who look exactly like her. Expensive. Maintained. Judgmental.

"Ladies, I'd like you to meet my... well, we've just discovered we're related." She gestures to me like I'm an interesting artifact. "This is Temperance. She's visiting from Denver."

The way she says Denver makes it sound like a foreign country.

"Temperance is an environmental lawyer," Delphine continues. Her voice drips with condescension. "She works on... nature things."

One of the women perks up. "How fascinating. Like park ranger work?"

"Not exactly," I start to say.

But Delphine cuts me off. "Oh, she handles all sorts of little environmental issues. Very... grassroots." She makes it sound like I pick up litter for a living.

My temper is rising. But before I can respond, a ski instructor approaches our table. He's young, enthusiastic, and he's staring at Phoenix.

"Excuse me," he says. "Are you Phoenix Cross?"

The table goes silent. Phoenix looks up from his hot chocolate.

"Yeah?"

The instructor's face lights up. "I thought so! You're the world junior freestyle skiing champion, right? Could I possibly get an autograph?"

Everyone at our table stops talking. The ski instructor is still standing there, waiting for Phoenix's answer.

Phoenix glances at me. I can see him weighing his options. He's always been humble about his achievements. Too humble, sometimes.

"Sure," he says finally. He scribbles his name on the instructor's trail map.

"This is incredible," the instructor says. "I've been following your career since you won worlds. Your triple cork at nationals was insane."

Delphine's face has gone completely white. The women she introduced me to are staring at Phoenix like he's suddenly grown wings.