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don’t ski? Not at all?”
    “I tried it. Jack—a friend of mine took me up to Big Bear. All I did was fall down. And I knocked down a perfectly nice man who got up and brushed himself off and told me it was the first time he’d been on his feet for more than thirty seconds at a time and God must be sending him a message to quit. Well, that was it. I schussed and fell my way down the hill and hung up my poles forever.”
    Through her laughter Lane asked, “So you’re a confirmed non-athlete?”
    “I can get a tennis ball over the net. I like to walk. I used to break a hundred at golf.”
    “Used to? Did you hit someone on the golf course?”
    Diana laughed; then she said thoughtfully, “Actually, it was a pleasant walk in nice surroundings, and other than that I don’t think I ever did like it. What about gambling with me? Want to win some money?”
    Lane hesitated. “I’d like to,” she said finally. “But I’d better ski, I think.”
    “I guess that’s healthier,” Diana said, disappointed. She had felt certain that Lane would choose to go with her.
    “I’m here as Madge’s guest.”
    “Yes,” Diana said, thinking it was a feeble reason.
    “Maybe some strenuous exercise will help me relax. I need to.”
    “Yes. You do.”
    “So do you.”
    “You think so?” Diana asked, surprised.
    “I could be wrong,” Lane said. “I certainly don’t know you very well, but you seem tense to me.”
    Diana smiled, and got out of bed. They donned robes and climbed down the ladder.
    The women were drinking coffee around the fire. Liz said, “Sleep well, you two?”
    “Yes,” Diana said, breathing in the intoxicating aromas of coffee and bacon. “After we finally tore ourselves away from the window.”
    “Seen one star you’ve seen ’em all,” Liz said with a shrug. “At least it’s quiet up there. One weekend we had to pound on the ceiling with a broom handle to get some friends of Jerry’s up.”
    “I’m a light sleeper,” Diana said. “I could hear your voices this morning just faintly.”
    Lane said, “I sleep like a brick. Where’s Chris?”
    “In the bathroom, of course. It’s alphabetical in reverse in the morning. To be fair. Holland, get in there,” Liz said as Chris emerged. “That means you’re last, Christiansen. What’s so damn funny?” she demanded.
    “Nothing,” Diana said, heading for the bathroom.
    She dressed in a wine-colored wool sweater and pale gray pants.
    Lane climbed down the ladder dressed in ski clothes, royal blue pants and sweater. The two women exchanged glances; Diana realized that they had quickly developed an awareness of each other, an affinity.
    “Breakfast’s ready,” Liz called.
    “Where do you want us to sit?” Lane asked with an impish grin at Diana as they went into the dining area.
    “Roommates together, saves all that milling around. I must say you two are in a good mood this morning,” Liz added as Diana and Lane laughed.
    Diana took a second helping of scrambled eggs. “This mountain air really takes effect fast,” she said.
    “I hate people who can eat anything,” Liz said. “You remind me of my oldest boy Jerry. Here, Lane, finish up this bacon.”
    After breakfast Liz announced, “Dishes are done in alphabetical order. Cook is exempt. Christianson and Dodd, go to it.”
    Diana sat on the hearth drinking coffee, interjecting an occasional comment into the conversation between Madge and Chris, as Liz marched about the cabin tidying and dusting. She watched Lane in the kitchen.
    The white stripes across Lane’s shoulders and down the arms of her sweater emphasized the slenderness and straightness of her body. Ski pants, stretched tautly over her ~ 44 ~
    legs, outlined the slim curve of hip, the long lines of her thighs and legs. She dried and put dishes away, stretching and reaching to the shelves, blonde hair changing patterns as she moved, her body supple and graceful, and Diana watched her with pleasure, enjoying her