“He’s older and fatter now,” said Brandon. “I don’t need him on the team. He probably couldn’t afford it anyway.”
Adam caught Diane and Jacobie trying to read his mind — not easy, he knew, given Wylie’s divisive relationship with the Carson family proper. Adam understood that Jacobie wouldn’t want Wylie on the team, given Gargantua’s not-so-secret desire to claim pretty much all of Let It Bean’s market share. Brandon was against Wylie because Brandon had never liked the Welborns and they had never liked him, and that was that. “Put him on the team, Brandon. I’ll cover his fees.”
“Why, Grandpa?”
“Because he’s one of the best ski crossers I’ve ever seen.” Adam raised his binoculars again. He hated committees, bureaucracies, democracies. Squabbles, strife, opinions. Peering through the glasses, he watched some speed demon slicing down the black-diamond Head Chutes run. The equipment is so much better now than back in the old days, he thought. He remembered those heavy wooden skis, the bindings with minds of their own, the monstrous boots. Not a helmet in sight. Suddenly, Adam was sixty years back, helping his friend Dave McCoy build that first Mammoth Mountain rope tow — using a car engine and old tires! It was summer on the mountain and unusually hot, and they worked in jeans and boots. Dave’s wife, Roma, was there, and Adam’s beloved Sandrine, both so beautifully young and tan-armed in sleeveless blouses and shorts, and many others sweating and grunting and trying to get that damned V-8 rope tow to work without dragging them up the mountain at thirty miles an hour.
Adam could see Sandrine turn and smile at him. What a lucky man I was.
Now he watched the skier tearing down the mountain in a flurry of powder. And listened to the Racing Committee blather on.
Jacobie was agreeing with Brandon that Wylie should not be a part of the free-ski team. Who could know better what the team needed than its coach?
“And if Wylie is on the team, think of those last few loyal customers who might stay with Let It Bean,” said Diane.
“Jesus, Diane.”
“But I agree with you. It’s Brandon’s team and Brandon’s call.”
“I believe we all would be fortunate to have Wylie Welborn on this team,” said Claude Favier. “It would be good for Mammoth Lakes and the sport of ski cross.”
“And you hope he rides Chamonix skis again,” said Diane.
“Yes, I passionately hope for this,” said Claude.
“But I win,” said Brandon. “Three votes against Wylie. Only two votes in favor.”
Then came a silence, during which Adam gazed down at the town of Mammoth Lakes.
“Wait,” said Diane. “There are lots of moving parts here. So, yes, Adam, I’d be willing to give Wylie a chance on the team, if you would suggest to the town council a more equitable allotment of the streetlight banners. Say, fifteen each for Chamonix and Vault, and sixteen for Gargantua. As a nod to their much deeper pockets.”
“That’s a travesty,” said Jacobie.
“Deal,” said Adam.
“Sir,” said Jacobie.
“The fuck, Grandpa?”
“Ah, excellent,” said Claude.
Adam stood and made an underhand shooing motion toward the door. “Out out, damned spots. Mike, I need to talk to you a minute. You people hold the funicular for him.”
The Racing Committee filed out, mostly arguing, Claude laughing, Brandon casting a hangdog look back at Adam before slamming the door. Teresa began the cleanup. Adam heard the funicular engine start outside. “Mike, has Brandon talked to you about the X Course for the next cup?”
“Yes. He wants two more gates, tighter banks, and flatter straights. For safety, after Robert.”
And to favor his lighter-bodied skiers, thought Adam. Such as Sky. “And what did you tell him?”
“I told him to do his job and let me do mine. I always set the best and fairest course I can, Adam. And the safest.”
“I know you do.”
“And I want you to know that the padding on the X Course was very heavy, high quality, and correctly installed.”
“I have no doubt.”
“I’m crushed about Robert. I love him.”
“I know you do.”
Mike stood there for a moment.
“It’s good to have a friend who tells the truth,” Adam said. “Please let Wylie know he’s on the team. Not to sweat the money.”
“I hope those corporate pricks don’t run his family out of business.”
Adam considered this notion. He understood the value of prosperity for Mammoth Lakes, and he understood the value of family. This was about both.
“And did you hear? April Holly is moving to Mammoth to live and train, away from the spotlights in Aspen.”
Adam had not heard. He’d never met April Holly, but he’d seen her image on supermarket magazines and on TV thousands of times. She had four World Cup Crystal Globes and a gold medal from Sochi. A snowboard wizard with a pretty smile and bouncy hair. America’s snow princess. “Another Olympic medalist for our mountain. I’m pleased.”
“I hear she travels with quite a crew. Private jets, custom Escalades with her picture on the sides. Bodyguards, coaches, and supermom. They say she creates a spectacle wherever she goes.”
So much about snow sports has changed, thought Adam, suddenly back in his station wagon with Sandrine and Don Oakley and his girl, all packed in and barreling down the highway with eight pairs of skis on top, ski gear and cheap food loaded to the roof, music on the radio if they could get it, following the FIS circuit from Mammoth to Squaw to Aspen to Jackson to Stowe and then on through Europe. He’d never forget those days. Always trying to take down the Europeans, put America on the map for the downhill, slalom, giant slalom, and the combined. They hadn’t quite accomplished that. But they’d gotten the attention of the USOC, and paved the way for Billy Kidd and Jimmie Heuga in ‘64.
A flurry of snow blew into the foyer just before Mike closed the door. Glancing out the window, Adam saw Mike’s footprints multiplying in the snow, then Mike climbing into the silver funicular car. The thick steel cable lowered and the car started down.
Teresa took his arm and laid her head against his shoulder. “They want only what they want.”
“Teresa, let’s build a fire in the bedroom and lie down by it.”
“It’s built and I’m ready.”
“You are a joy to these old bones.”
“You are a joy to mine.”
“Sandrine always said it wasn’t how much you love, but how much you are loved.”
“That is what we do for each other.”
Chapter Ten
Wylie dressed out with the Mammoth freeski team at the Main Lodge HQ, then caught the shuttle back to chair 24, which took him up the mountain to the X Course. Daniel, whose plaster arm cast Wylie had signed days before, sat beside him, steam wavering from the hole in his ski mask and forming clouds on his goggles.
“It’s cool you get to try out,” said Daniel.
“I haven’t run the X Course in five years.”
“But you skied all over the world after the war.”
“Pretty much so.”
“I saw you win the cup. My dad still talks about it. He’s a cop. He thinks it’s awesome I got to meet and ride up with you the other day.”
The morning was cold and bright and the pure white Sierra peaks towered around them, dotted with rocks and trees. An hour ago, Wylie had left work at Let It Bean feeling guilty, but now even his family seemed a distant responsibility and his spirit felt lighter as the chair drew him up the mountain. At the dismount, the chair leveled off and Wylie and Daniel glided onto the snow side by side.
“Go forth and shredify,” said Wylie.