Jesse reached for the beer menu. “They didn’t have shovels either.”
“What kind of idiot goes skiing in the backcountry without a shovel?” Ahearn shook his head. “They’re damned lucky it wasn’t one of them who got buried. We’d have had a lot less to go on.”
Kenzie smiled, reached under the table. “Charlie would have found them. Wouldn’t you, boy?”
Jesse looked under the table to find Charlie curled up at her feet, napping. “Hey, buddy. Good job today.”
Charlie opened his eyes and wagged his tail, but the rest of him lay still. The poor pooch had worn himself out.
“So the victim’s going to be okay?” Belcourt asked.
Jesse nodded. “He had a fractured tibia and clavicle, and he was pretty shaken up. Apart from that, he’s okay.”
“I bet he’ll never go skiing with those two ass clowns again.” Conrad took a swig of his beer. “If it had been left to them, he’d be dead tonight.”
“On that happy note, have all of you signed up for SnowFest?” Megs looked straight at Jesse. “Before you say a word, you should know that I already know the answer to that question.”
Shit.
Jesse had forgotten about that. “I’ll get on it.”
“Did someone order the large Classic?” Victoria, Hawke’s wife, appeared at the table wearing a big smile and a white chef’s coat and carrying a large pie in a steel pan.
Hawke grinned, raised his hand. “I did. How else could I see my wife? Why don’t you sit right next to me and help me eat it, darlin’?”
Victoria laughed. “And leave Rico to handle all the pizza orders? He’d never forgive me. Besides, you have Jesse. He can have my half.”
“Fine—but he’s nowhere near as good-looking as you are.”
“No argument from me,” Jesse said.
A transplant from Chicago, Victoria had given up a fast-paced career at some big PR firm to be with Hawke. The two were crazy in love. The way Jesse saw it, Scarlet Springs had gotten the better part of the deal because Victoria had brought real Chicago-style deep-dish pizza to Knockers, saving the town from culinary boredom.
She set the dish down in the center of the table, the scents of garlic, sausage, and tomato sauce making Jesse’s mouth water. “Enjoy.”
Jesse didn’t mind if he did.
*
When he got home, Jesse logged on to the SnowFest website, clicked the link for volunteers, and looked over the schedule. There weren’t many slots left.
The shotski was covered. So was the polar bear plunge, the ice climbing competition, and the snow sculpture contest. The skijoring event had a few slots, but Jesse was hoping to compete, so that wasn’t an option. That left the kids’ snowman competition or the first-aid tent.
He clicked on the first-aid tent, his gaze falling on the name of the organizer.
Ellen Meeks.
Hmmm.
This whole thing had just become much more appealing.
*
Ellie dropped the kids off at her mother’s place Monday morning after a busy weekend working in the emergency room. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I just don’t see how I’m supposed to run a meeting with two toddlers running around.”
“You don’t have to apologize, honey. Believe me, I understand.” Her mother gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Just remember I’ve got that eye appointment at one.”
Her mother needed surgery for cataracts and had been putting it off for months.
“I’m not letting you wiggle out of that. I’ll be back long before then.” Ellie bent down and kissed the twins. “Be good for Grandma, okay?”
Feeling irritated at being forced to give up part of her day off, she drove to the library, where she’d reserved a conference room. She reminded herself that SnowFest accounted for some portion of the hospital’s annual operational budget. Still, there were people on staff who attended the event and didn’t have kids. Couldn’t Pauline have drafted one of them to organize the first-aid tent?
Ellie had spent a few hours last night looking through the folders Pauline had given her. Organizing this whole thing was a bigger responsibility than she’d been led to believe. She’d already put in an order for a long list of supplies with Central Supply at the hospital. She still had liability insurance requirements to manage and about thirty-six hours to fill with qualified volunteers. She hoped she had enough people to staff the tent throughout the three-day event. She would be there eight hours each day starting at seven, but the tent was open until nine at night.
She grabbed the expandable file organizer that held the folders and all of the paperwork for volunteers, climbed out of the car, and walked inside to the reference desk. “Ellie Meeks. I reserved a conference room for ten a.m.”
A young woman she didn’t know set a clipboard on the counter in front of her. “You’re in the Summit Room. I’ll need you to sign for the key.”