by J. A. Huss
“They all left. It’s just us. Well, my mom is sleeping and your mom is making cookie dough for the decorating party after the ballet. I think my mom is stressed, Five. My dad said we should get her something special for Christmas while we shop, but she’s not the kind of person who likes expensive trinkets, and that’s all they sell in the Village.”
“Yeah,” I say back, mulling this over. “She does deserve something nice. She always cooks for us. And she throws the best birthday parties. What kind of things does she like? Maybe we can take the limo and go somewhere else?”
Rory’s eye open wide. “The limo?”
“Let’s take the limo. Let’s take the limo,” Oliver starts chanting.
“Will your mom let us?” Rory asks, her hopes high.
Now this is a way to make an impression, am I right? Taking your princess out in a limo for a festive day of Christmas shopping. “Let’s go ask.”
The three of us walk into the kitchen where Ashleigh—I’m allowed to call her Ashleigh in my thoughts—is busily banging baking sheets and grabbing mixing bowls from the cupboards.
“Hey, Mom, can we take the limo shopping? We want to buy Ronnie—”
“Aunt Ronnie,” Ashleigh corrects me, as she searches through a drawer looking for something.
I roll my eyes. “—Aunt Ronnie a special present.”
“Yeah,” Rory chimes in. “And she won’t think some over-priced gift from the Village is special. It says last-minute, Aunt Ash.”
“That’s true,” I say, pointing a finger at Princess. “She works so hard, Mom. She needs a special present.”
Ashleigh stops what she’s doing, immediately suspicious of my intentions. I shoot her my innocent smile, but that only makes her scowl.
“My dad says do it up right, Aunt Ash. I feel we need to expand our horizons to find the perfect gift.”
“Hmmm,” Ashleigh says, thinking this over. “You’re right. She’s sorta down today. And she was up all night with Cindy, so she’s exhausted. Where do you think you’re going to go?”
“There’s an antique store in Copper,” Rory says, her hands pressed together like she’s begging and her little feet jumping up and down a little. “We could find something really cool there, I know it.”
My mom frowns. “Copper Mountain?” She tasks her tongue. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, come on, Ashleigh.” I do that on purpose to make her take us seriously. She trains her eyes on me, ready to pick a fight about what you call adults. But I hold a hand up. “We’re not kids. It’s not snowing. There’s no ice on the roads. It’s a limo, and Richard has been our Vail driver for ten years.”
“He’s not on call today, Five. It’s Christmas Eve. So no. You kids will have to find something nice for her in town.” And then she turns her back and returns her attention to the baking.
We walk back out to the foyer and when we get there, Rory has a royal pout on her face. “We’re never going to find anything good, Five.”
“I know!” Oliver says. “We can get her a new stroller for Cindy.”
I shoot him a look.
“Don’t be stupid, Oliver,” Rory says. “She’s tired of babies. She’s got six kids. She doesn’t want a new stroller. She wants something cool that makes her feel special and pretty. Like some new Frye boots. Or tickets to see Metallica. Or a new leather jacket. Or…” Her words trail off but her eyes light up. “Oh my God, I have the best idea.” But then her face falls again. “But it’s back at my dad’s shop.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“Never mind,” she says, clicking her tongue. “It’s pointless to even talk about it, because we can’t go all the way home.”
“Hmmmm,” I say.
“I know that hmmm,” Oliver says. “It says Five has an evil plan.” He rubs his hands together like a mad scientist.
“What if I can get us to Fort Collins? Do you know exactly where it is?”
Princess crinkles her face at me. “How would we get back to FoCo? It’s two hours away.”
“Well, we don’t technically have to be back here until six for dinner. And it’s only eight-thirty in the morning now. So we have tons of time.”
She smiles a smile that matches Oliver’s mad-scientist palm-rubbing. “Tell me.”
“We can Uber.” I smile as I say it. Uber is the teenager’s gift from God.
“Won’t Ash and Ford get an alert if we use the app?”
“Pffft. What do you think I am? A child? I’ve had my own credit cards since I was eleven.”
My princess hooks her arm into mine and leans her head on my shoulder. “You’re my hero, Five.”
Wow. Life lesson learned. Find a way to give a woman what she wants and you turn into her hero.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s walk down to the Village and call from there. I bet there are a ton of cars today.”
“Will they take us all the way to Fort Collins?” Rory asks.
“They will if we pay them enough.” That’s one lesson I learned growing up Aston. Money talks.
Chapter Six
“I don’t get why you’re giving me the silent treatment,” I say as we drive Sparrow over to the Vail theatre for the last Nutcracker dress rehearsal before the performance tonight.
“Sparrow,” Rook says, an edge to her voice. “Do you want me to hang out with you backstage and do your hair and make-up?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says. I look at my thirteen-year-old daughter in the rearview and smile. She’s so perfect. Her dark hair, her blue eyes. They are the same blue as Rook’s. The same blue as mine. Electric.
But I don’t like the idea of modeling. Rook knows this. I’m the one who should be giving her the silent treatment for telling Sparrow yes before we talked it over. Once, when Sparrow was six and Starling was just a new baby, Antoine took pictures of them. And since they both have bird names, like Rook, Elise thought it would be cool to dress them up in feathers and make them look like birds. Sparrow was holding Starling in her arms, her long dark hair falling over her face as she leaned down to give her new baby sister a kiss.
It was the most beautiful picture I’ve ever seen.
But lots of other people felt the same way. Antoine had it up in his office and every time a client came, they asked about it.
They asked about Sparrow, specifically. Was she available?
Was she fucking available? Antoine’s photographs are more child-friendly these days—he mostly does fashion now. But back then he had a few lingering clients for the erotic stuff.
I saw red.
Normally I’m a pretty easy-going guy. I don’t get worked up and I take it all in stride, knowing that there is a solution for every problem. But I punched that guy in the teeth that day. I almost got arrested. Antoine had to smooth things over so the client didn’t press charges. Antoine ended up doing the shoot for free.
I do not want my daughter’s face plastered all over the world like mine was. I do not want people to look at her and remark on her weight, or her legs, or whether or not she’s graceful or she can hold a pose that reminds people of a cat. It’s no one’s damn business.
Rook knows this. She was there that day.
I huff out a breath.
And yet here I sit getting the silent treatment.
I pull into the Vail theatre and stop at the backstage security guard and flash our pass. He nods at Sparrow, who looks like a dancer, even when she’s not in her costume or leotard.
“Do you want me to come in too, Sparrow?” I ask her, smiling into the rearview mirror.
“We got this,” Rook says, grabbing her purse. Sparrow is already halfway out of the backseat, pulling her bag filled with shoes, make-up and whatever else they use to put on a show behind her.
I grab Rook’s hand before she can make her own escape and pull her close. “Why are you mad at me? I never said a word. I should be the one mad at you.”
She crosses her arms. “Are you mad at me?” she challenges.
�
�No, but you know I don’t like the idea of her modeling. I hate the thought of people looking at her.”
“You do realize she’s a ballerina, right? You do realize that there will be three hundred people watching her tonight?”
“It’s not the same,” I say, weary of this fight before it even starts. “It’s dancing.”
“It’s the same thing. They want tall, skinny girls to dance, Ronin. They want girls who can work hard and dedicate their lives to the art. It’s the same thing. So I don’t understand why she can’t model for this equestrian catalog.”
“Well, you already told her she could, Rook. So if I say no, then I’m the bad guy.”
“That’s not the point. I want you to be happy for her. She doesn’t want to be a model, Ronin. She doesn’t even want to be a ballerina. She wants to be a veterinarian. But along the way she wants to explore these other things. She loves riding. The job isn’t about the modeling, it’s about the location where they’re doing the shoot. A big horse park down in Parker where she dreams of show jumping one day. And while we’re on that topic, you complain about that too.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Well, why don’t we just forbid Starling from skiing then? That’s dangerous. Hell, let’s just stop them from walking across the street when we get home. They might get hit by a car.”
“There’s risks, and then there’s risks. Starling out on the bunny hill with Ford is—”
“Bunny hill?” Rook laughs. “Are you kidding me? When’s the last time you went out there to see her ski?”
I sigh. I’m totally losing this battle. Because everything she said was true.
Rook opens her door and starts to get out, but then turns back. “I want you to enjoy them, Ronin. I want you to enjoy the skiing, the catalog shoot, the show tonight. The jumping she may or may not do next year. Because these kids are all growing up way too fast, and you’re going to miss out on memories if you don’t stop and enjoy it.”
Rook gets out and closes the door, walking to the backstage door where Sparrow is waiting. I wave at them. Only Sparrow waves back.
Hmmm. Am I working too much? Is that what’s she saying? And what kind of skiing is Starling doing? I really don’t go out on the slopes much. I’m busy running the Fort Collins theatre and we have film festivals twice a year. The prep work is never-ending. As soon as one festival ends, it’s time to get ready for the next one. Six months is barely enough time to make it come off without a hitch. To make it perfection.
But I’m home every night for dinner. I do go see Sparrow ride because she takes lessons out at Spencer’s farm with Kate and Rory and Belle. And I catch all her shows and recitals.
But Starling… she might get the short end of the deal from me. She’s only six, so I guess I just figured she was too young to miss me at all her little kiddie activities. Soccer, and T-ball, and tennis.
Hmmm.
A car honks behind me and I wave to the eager stage parent who needs to drop off a daughter for rehearsal and ease the car forward.
I’m going to see what Starling is really up to out on those slopes.
Chapter Seven
“Here, Dad,” Kate says. “Let me put this on you.”
“What’s that?” I ask, not taking my eyes off Starling as she navigates the freestyle area of the terrain park.
“Just a colored armband so the kids can find you easily.”
“What?” I ask, looking down at the swath of red fabric. “Why do I need this? We only have Belle, Ariel, Jasmine, and Starling out here today.”
“It’s crowded, Dad,” Kate says, looking down at a clipboard.
“Why do you have a clipboard?”
“Hey,” a guy says next to me. “That’s your kid right there?” He’s pointing to Starling.
“Nah, my buddy’s kid.”
“How old is she?”
“Ummm…” I have to look at Kate for this.
“Six.” Kate laughs.
“She’s good.”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back on my heels a little. “I’ve been coaching her since she was three. She’s a natural.” I look over at the guy. “My kids ski too.” I nod at Kate, who is busy talking to a group of other kiddie skiers. “But it’s not their love, you know? Starling loves it.” God, I love that about her.
“Does she compete?”
“Oh, hell yes. I make her mother put her in every competition they have out here.” Rook loves that Starling is a skier and she told me to spare no expense making her happy on the slopes. I secretly think she’s doing it for me as much as for Starling. Ash and I have skied a lot since the kids were born. Nothing serious. But ever since Rook decided Starling needed ski lessons, I’ve gotten my passion back. I can see myself in this little girl. So much.
“What do you think about my kid?” the guys asks. “He’s the one in the black and red.”
“Ah,” I say. “I’ve been watching him since he got here. He’s good. How old is he?”
“Thirteen.”
“Perfect age,” I say.
“For?”
“Oh, you know. This is the perfect time to let him loose. Just let him do his thing. When I was his age I was up here every weekend in the winter. You guys local?”
“Denver.”
“Yeah, that was us too. But my parents had a house up here, so we came as much as we could.”
“He’s totally into it.” We watch the boy do some aerials. A three-sixty, then a switch and grab. “I just fired his coach. That guy was so unreliable. Never even showed up at the last competition down in Loveland.”
“Really?” I ask, looking back to Starling. I told her I’d take her on the terrain park after she warms up and we’re just about ready.
“Yeah, so I’m glad I ran into you guys.”
“What?”
“Um…” Kate is suddenly next to me with her clipboard. “Dad, this is Mr. Shalons. His son is Randy. And he’s signed up for…” She clears her throat. “Two hours today.”
“Right, two hours,” the boy’s father says wistfully. “I know your daughter said it was a one-time thing. But if you guys are local, then I’m interested, Mr. Aston.”
“Interested in what?” I give the guy a classic sidelong Ford glance.
“Regular lessons. I’ll pay, man. I know you’re a busy guy, you have no time for my kid’s dream and all that. But I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Like what?” I ask, my mood going sour fast. I have a long history of criminal activity. It’s well behind me now, but it only takes one reminder to wipe away all the amnesia people have around here.
“Oh, you know, your shows. Spencer Shrike. You’re a benefactor for that film festival up in Fort Collins.”
“You’ve done some research.”
“Hey, Mr. Aston,” another kid calls, skiing up to me. He’s about fifteen, same age as Five. “I’m ready to go, man. So stoked about this opportunity.”
“What?”
“Dad,” Kate says, checking off another name on her clipboard. “This is Josh Pittan. He won the Fancy Freestyle last weekend up in Breckenridge.”
“Congrats,” I say. “But—”
“He’s here for four hours.”
“Four? Hours?” What the hell is happening?
Two more kids ski up. “We’re here!” they say, looking like brother and sister. “Sorry we’re late, Mr. Aston. My mom couldn’t get the car started this morning.”
“She had to call us a cab,” the sister says. “This is the best Christmas present ever!”
I shoot Kate a look. “Can you excuse us for a moment?” I tell the crowd. “I need a word with my assistant. Starling,” I yell, just as she’s about to pass me and give the moguls a try. “Hold up for a second.”
“Safety first,” the parent of the first boy says. “I like that.”
“Kate, what the hell is going on?” I ask, after we ski off a little way. “Why do all these people think I’m running a class here today?”
She laughs. “You are, Dad. I set it all up.”
I rub my face. “Why would you do that?”
“I heard you telling Mom that story about your Bronco last month when you guys were talking about the old days. You said you ran tours at the science museum to save up for a car. And I want a Bronco too. So I started a ski class.”
“You can’t start a ski class.”
“Yeah, I can.” She smiles sweetly at me. “It’s entrepreneurial. You love that. Plus, you let Five start that app stuff. It’s only fair.”
“But you’re not teaching the class.”
“Duh.” She snorts. “I’m not that good. But you are. And you love skiing. And,” she stresses the word, “you love teaching Starling. All these kids are good. Like really good,” she says, lowering her chin. “I screened them all so you didn’t get any lazy ones from tourists looking for a babysitter. They’re all freestyle skiers and they’ve all won competitions.”
I take a deep breath. “You can’t make enough to buy a car with one day of classes.”
“How do you know?” She smirks.
“How much did you charge?”
“Three-fifty an hour.”
“What?” I look back at the parents and the kids. They all smile at me. “How much for today?”
“Three thousand, five hundred dollars.”
“What?”
“How much do Broncos go for? Not the really tricked-out ones. One like yours?”
I scrub my hand down my face again.
“Daddy?” Kate asks sweetly.
“Katie,” I say back. And then a laugh leaks out. “You’re sneaky.”
“I take after you.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Did you know that Grandma called and asked if we were going to meet her at church tonight and I said we can’t because we’ll all be too tired after we watch Sparrow dance The Nutcracker?”
I forget about the kids for a moment and picture myself being forced to sit still in church tonight with my mother. She’s up here with Gary, staying at the Four Seasons until we all drive home tomorrow for Christmas dinner. “What’d she say?”
“She said she totally understands. And she’ll put in a good word for us when she and Gary go.”
