She was standing with little Sandy’s parents and chatting when Jean skied down to them, his skis tossing up a graceful swirl of soft snow as he pulled up. He clicked the quick-releases on the boards, stepped out of them, and stuck his skis and poles upright into the snow.
Fighting the glow Riley had always felt when he approached, especially when he was on skis, she introduced Jean to Sandy’s parents.
They were nice people, happy to meet the accomplished skier, but not gushing or demanding.
Sandy was dressed in a pink ski outfit with white trim. Her knit cap didn’t cover all her long blonde hair and it curled along her neckline and below her ears. She smiled when Riley said, “This is Mr. Merseau, Sandy. He’d like you to ski for him.”
He crouched beside Sandy in the way he’d always had
