Redmond was still by the window, paperback closed now, watching the storm as if it were an old colleague.
"You're Vale," she said. "Redmond Vale."
"I am frequently accused of it."
"I'm Briar Quinn. Park district alpine safety candidate. My assigned observer can't get through. Your name is on my letter as an alternate supervisor if you're willing and if the mountain opens enough for a currency run."
Redmond studied her the way instructors study students before the first fall: not for weakness, for attention.
"I retired from teaching fools how to point downhill," he said. "I did not retire from standards. If the ridge gives you a window, and if your skis and your head are both attached, I'll watch. I won't pass you for charm. I won't fail you for nerves. I will fail you for pretending."
"I don't pretend on snow."
"Good. Pretending is for lobbies." He glanced toward the fireplace, where Callum sat with Brendan Keane talking quietly over the last of the soup. "That one with the sweater—he looking to claim your gear or your time?"
"Gear, originally. Time is currently under renegotiation."
Redmond's mouth twitched. "Storms make lawyers of everyone. Get sleep. If Sunday opens, you'll need legs, not speeches."
Briar returned upstairs with something like a plan and something like dread sharing the same bed.
Saturday arrived as a rumor of daylight behind thick cloud. The lifts remained closed. The rental shop remained closed. The roads down-valley were listed as not recommended. Piper posted a handwritten note on the desk: COCOA FREE. SOUP AT NOON. PLEASE DON'T ARGUE WITH THE SKY.
Earlier that morning, before anyone negotiated snowshoes, Saturday had already begun teaching Briar what stranded time felt like when you were trying not to spend it as panic.
She had woken at five to the sound of wind worrying the eaves. The signed letter from Ms. Holbeck lay on the nightstand where she had left it, a paper weight on a paper future. Briar dressed, descended, and found Redmond already awake in the lobby with coffee that smelled burnt and righteous.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.
"Couldn't justify sleeping."
"Then justify walking." He jerked his chin toward the boot room. "Lodge loop. Stay inside the marker poles. I want to see how you move when no one is scoring you."