“If I fall on this climb, will you be there to catch me?” he asked, and a dozen gray heads bobbed in support.
“Your harness is secured to a safety line and a main line,” Avery said, reiterating verbatim the lodge’s safety manual of the precautions taken in any excursion that included chest harnesses. But to ease the concerned looks, she added, “Plus your adventure guide is with you every step of the way to make sure your trip is exciting and safe.”
Another hand flew up. The captain, as he preferred to be called, was the president of Senior X-Tream and seemed to be the ladies’ man of the group. With his silver-streaked hair, captain’s hat, and deck shoes, the man looked as though he’d just stepped off his boat and was ready to impress. He was also trying his hardest not to look at Avery’s chest. “If you fall, can I catch you?”
“I don’t go on excursions. I just coordinate them,” she said, leaving out the part that with every party confirmed, she got a bonus adventure for herself.
A series of disappointed mumbles filled the room, and she dropped the clipboard to the table, silencing the room with a bang. “Now, can all of those in favor of Senior X-Tream starting off their fall season with the River Rock climb please raise their hands?” she asked in a tone that usually had her customers signing on the dotted line.
Not a single hand went up. Which was odd since she’d come here to pitch the Fern Falls fly-fishing day trip and the group had specifically asked her to explain the River Rock climb, even going as far as having her demonstrate how the harness worked. And since that trek had a special place in her Living for Love passport, she’d suited up.
Only now, she was afraid she’d secured the carabiner incorrectly. Even though she’d followed the directions exactly, she couldn’t seem to loosen the harness or get the carabiner to open. Not that she’d let them know that.
“Mr. Fitz, how about you?”
Mr. Fitz shook his head. “My wife would have my head if she knew I was even thinking about climbing River Rock. That’s a young man’s trail, and I had a new hip put in last spring—no way could I take the pressure of that harness.”
Avery had made it through a surgery of her own last year, and could tell him, without a doubt, that healing bodies and harnesses were a tricky combination. But that the pressure would be worth the thrill he’d feel when he got to the top and looked out over Sierra Nevada.
“Then why did you ask about the trip in the first place?”
Mr. Fitz looked at the floor, his ears going pink. In fact, most of the men were avoiding eye contact. A clear sign that Avery had been played. “You weren’t planning on booking any trips today, were you?”
“We’ve been going on the Fern Falls fly-fishing excursion for nearly twenty years,” Prudence Tuttman said from the back row, not sounding all that excited about going for number twenty-one. She was the only female in the group, outweighed the heaviest member by twenty pounds, and held the county record for gutting the most fish in under a minute. “Nelson has taken us out on the last five trips and said he was sending you down to handle all of the paperwork.”
“Said he had some big trek today and didn’t have time for paperwork,” the captain said, and Avery wanted to point out that no one had time for paperwork. It was the nature of paperwork. But refrained because a trek wasn’t why Nelson had sent her.
Nelson Donovan used to be the top-rated adventure guide at Sequoia Lake Lodge, fitting since he’d owned the lodge for over forty years. He’d survived a helicopter crash, three avalanches, and the loss of one of his sons ten years ago. Nelson was the kind of man stories are made of. Only lately, his memory had been slipping, and on bad days he struggled to remember his own story—which was why his wife hired Avery. When she wasn’t booking his trips, she was managing the schedule and rechecking any and all safety equipment he touched—stealthily.
Pride was a tricky thing, and Avery was careful not to take that from him, too.
“What if I were to tell you that as Sequoia Lake Lodge’s official adventure coordinator, I have the ability to customize your trip,” Avery said. “Give you exactly what you’re looking for.”
“We’ve been pitched custom excursions before, but our group isn’t large enough to absorb the cost,” Prudence explained. “We asked Nelson, but he couldn’t seem to come up with one that would fit within our budget.”
It was true that customized trips were always on the higher end in pricing and usually reserved for cooperate retreats and large group events, but with all of the fall specials and their senior discount, finding something new and exciting within their means shouldn’t be that difficult.