Chapter 12
~ Sammie ~
I come down the stairs dressed in my snow gear. Will meets me and grins, his eyes roving over my new attire. “First time in the snow?”
“How can you tell?” I’m layered up well, with leg warmers over my jeans, a heavy sweater over my thermal underwear, a long scarf wrapped three times around my neck underneath a parka with faux-fur trimmed hood, and my hands encased in leather ski gloves.
“Everything is shiny and new. You still have the price sticker on your earmuffs, and you’re wearing everything your dad told you to.” He smirks like I’m America’s biggest nerd. “All you need is a balaclava ski mask.”
I pick off the earmuffs and take off a glove to peel the sticker. “I don’t want my ears to freeze.”
“They won’t. Trust me.” He flings the earmuffs on the mudroom bench. “You’re riding with me.”
“Are we driving to a tree farm?” I let him take my hand as we walk out the back door. My snow boots are stiff, and I’m not used to sinking into the powdery snow. “I feel like I’m inside a giant freezer.”
He throws his head back and laughs. I notice he’s wearing a knit hat on his head with a pair of ski goggles looped over it. “Let’s go.”
We walk out from the mudroom to a winter wonderland of white.
The storm stopped overnight, and the sky is bright blue. Sparkling icicles hang under the rafters, and snow is puffed up on the trees, making them look like they’re covered with cotton.
The backdrop of the craggy, snow-covered mountains is breathtaking, like a landscape from a screen saver. The cold air stings my face, and it’s hard to keep my eyes open with the sheer brightness of the sun reflected from the snow.
Braden’s car is gone, unless it’s one of those snow-covered lumps. I point toward the driveway. “How are we getting to the tree farm when the cars are snowed under and the roads are covered?”
“Easy.” He tugs me around the corner of the shed. “We’re taking snowmobiles.”
“You mean we’re going to cut a tree down from the forest? Is that allowed?”
“This is private property,” he explains, meeting the others who are standing around the snowmobiles.
I recognize the Brant sisters and Will’s mother. The ten-year-old girl is Will’s sister, Abbie, who I met at breakfast.
“Where’s my dad? Is he coming with us?” I ask.
“Your dad is at a family meeting,” Susanna says. “Who’s going with who?”
“I’ve got Sammie.” Will grabs my hand in case anyone has any ideas. “It’s her first time in the snow.”
“Shouldn’t she come with me?” his mother asks. “You might be too reckless for her.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, even though my heart is doing loops at the thought of being on a snowmobile. “I know how to ride a motorcycle.”
“Cool! I wish I had a motorcycle,” Will says, looking at his mother.
She gives him a squeeze on the shoulder and scolds, “Don’t you go hotdogging. Not if you want a second date.”
I laugh along with the Brant sisters who act like Will and I are so cute with this puppy love gig.
Maybe I should go by myself or with one of the others. But before I can suggest it, Abbie asks, “Can I ride by myself?”
“You can ride with me,” Susanna says. “And we can be the ones who drag the tree back.”
“I’ve got the bow saw.” One of the twins, I can’t remember which one, attaches a saddlebag onto one of the snowmobiles, while her sister straddles it.
“You kids have fun,” Lindsay says. “I’m supposed to mediate the family conference.”
“Mediate? What do you mean?” I ask.
