“Okay, wow, we’re pretty booked up,” I say, squinting at the screen. “You might have to stay with your dad and his new wife.” That ought to get him out of here. Even cool, collected Reed wouldn’t be immune to the awkwardness of sleeping in his childhood bedroom while elsewhere in the house his father behaved like a lovesick newlywed.

“There must be something else,” Reed insists. “It’s only November.”

“Yes, but…” I nod rapidly, because lying doesn’t come naturally to me. “It’s the Penny Ridge Brewfest this weekend.” That’s the honest truth, although Madigan Mountain is too far out of town and too pricey to fill up on a Brewfest weekend before the ski season properly begins.

“What about employee rooms?” he asks. “Don’t try to tell me that you’ve got a full house of lift operators this early in the season.”

“Right, right.” He’s just given me another evil idea. “That’s a good plan. I can put you in a staff room.” We’ve got space on the property for more than thirty staff members. There are twelve employee apartments, plus a two-story lodge containing dormitory-style rooms.

Think Dirty Dancing, only with less dancing and more snow. It’s hard to staff a seasonal ski mountain in a tiny town, so we need to make it easy for seasonal workers to stay nearby. The smaller rooms aren’t stylish, but they sure are convenient for housing the youngsters from Denmark and Germany and New Zealand who spend their winters working for low pay and a free ski pass.

“I’ll take it, whatever it is,” Reed mutters.

“Suit yourself!” I reach into a drawer and fish out a key. It’s for unit number twenty-five, which is the smallest, darkest one. The heat pipes clank, and there’s a wicked draft under the door.

But that’s the key I offer him. And I’m not even sorry.

THREE

Middlebury College, Vermont

January Term 2011

It’s Friday morning, and Ava is smoothing the sides of a wet piece of pottery in the art studio when someone puts a work tray down on the table next to hers. “Can I sit here?” a male voice asks.

She looks up to find a stunning guy with dark, wavy hair and broody eyes waiting for an answer. “Yes. Yup. Sure,” she says in a rush of words.

He pulls out his chair and sits. “I’m Reed.”

She already knows who he is. Everyone does. He’s a vaunted all-American ski racer, known for his daredevil attitude. Athletes are everywhere at Middlebury College, but there’s something intense about Reed that has always drawn Ava’s gaze. In a sea of frivolous college boys, Ava can tell that he’s a serious person. A man. Even if they’ve never had a single conversation.

Until now.

“I apologize in advance if I try to copy off your homework.” With a frown, he pulls the plastic bag off a half-formed clay vase he must have begun earlier in the week. It’s lopsided. “This isn’t going too well, is it?”