“Hey,” said India, blushing bright red.

“You are so busted,” said Bilski.

“What’s your real name?” asked Angelica.

“Reginald, and you can blame my dad. It’s his dad’s name.” Goose made a funny face.

“My real name is Emile,” Charlie interjected.

Logan touched his chest. “Don’t blame me. I didn’t get a vote. I’m just glad you have a cool middle name.”

“I’m gonna tell them at ski school tomorrow to call you Reginald,” said Fisher.

“Are not,” Goose retorted.

“Watch me.”

“Nobody’s doing anything if you kids don’t get to bed and simmer down,” said India. “I’ll take bedtime duty tonight.”

Groans erupted, but with impressive efficiency, she herded them all down the hall to the bunk room. In the ensuing quiet, Logan added logs to the fire and put on soft, jazzy music. His father made Irish coffee for everyone, and they all sat around the fire, relaxing.

“Welcome to my new digs,” Logan said, raising his mug. “Welcome to my new life.”

“Hear, hear!” said Bilski. “Your new life is awesome.”

“Thanks.” Some days, like today, Logan was absolutely convinced of the awesomeness. Other days, like when Charlie was in a different time zone and Logan rattled around alone in the old, rambling, too-big house, he was not so sure.

“So, how is the resort business going?” his father asked. Of course he would ask. To Al O’Donnell, business was life.

“It’s a lot of work, but I have a fantastic team,” Logan said. “Karsten’s director of mountain operations stayed on. So did most of the senior staff. I get expert advice in all areas.” What he wouldn’t tell his father was that the financials were precarious. At the end of every day, he felt himself teetering on the fiscal cliff, trying to juggle the overhead with the revenues. Yet somehow he stayed on top of things and made it work. Operations were chugging along. Thanks to a dumping of snow from heaven itself, conditions were great and the daily till kept the cash flow going.

“So, are the revenues just pouring in?” his father persisted.

“Al.” Logan’s mother sent her husband a warning look. “Now is not the time.”

“Pouring in, that’s right,” said Logan.

“It seems like such a lot of work,” China said.

“I’m not afraid of hard work.”

“Are you taking care of yourself?” his mother asked. “You look too skinny.”

“I’m not skinny, Mom.”

“And pale,” she added.

“It’s the dead of winter,” he said. “Everyone is pale.”

He tried to keep it light. The dynamics of the family never changed. Or rarely did. People reverted to the old roles carved out a generation ago. His parents expected him to fail. As a dumb kid, he had cheerfully obliged them, time and time again; right up to getting a girl pregnant in high school.