Snowed Under (Aspen Peaks #2)

19. Madeline

S omehow, someway, Cooper and I were going to pull this whole interview thing off.

Every morning this week, whether we met in the café or he came to me before my shift, Cooper had gotten me an iced caramel macchiato and a bacon cheddar scone. In tow, he brought with him a list of questions for each of us to answer. From the mundane what brand of peanut butter do you reach for first? all the way to okay, but if aliens were real, do you think they’d know how to unlock a Tesla? We only had about fifteen minutes to spend together in the mornings, but we agreed we each had to tell one sad part of our lives to deepen the conversations that we’d previously had. When I said, “define sad,” he said, and I quote, “I want to have wet eyelashes at least one day a week.” So we did.

We still steered clear of my brother’s death and his father’s absence, which was fine by me, but we touched on other things. His first love had broken his heart right after they lost their virginity together. She ended up going out with his best friend the same night. He caught them in a hall closet at a party. I told him how sad it was that I’d only had one “love” other than family, and the guy had turned out to be a complete ass wipe. Cooper’s words. Actually, what he said was “I should’ve made that ass wipe step outside with me so I could teach him a few things.” To which I said, “We were already outside. Plus his baby was there.” He responded with “good. Maybe it would teach the baby something too.”

We texted periodically too. Not super often, since we both had busy lives, but when we did, it was always the perfect timing. When I was giving Piper a bath and was about to pass out from pure exhaustion. Ding.

Cooper: serious question do you think dinosaurs had feathers

Me: Serious question—did you know punctuation marks exist?

Or when I was up late the next night with Charlie, trying to help with math homework, but my eyelids were so, so heavy. Ding.

Cooper: can I pull this off

Attached was a mirror selfie of him in a local tourist boutique. One that carried mostly kitschy Aspen stuff, but occasionally had a good sale. He wore his typical jeans and snow boots with a black lodge hoodie. Sitting on his mop of brown hair was a tan cowboy hat.

Me: Is there anything you can’t pull off??

Cooper: touché madeline dear

Things stayed nonchalant the entire time. We flirted here and there, both catching each other staring at times. But we knew what this was and what it couldn’t be. More than anything, Cooper was a really good friend. He called to walk me through signing Charlie up for private lessons on the lodge’s website, because I was “a geriatric” when it came to technology, apparently. And he called from time to time just to talk to “Mini Coop too.” Every time they’d hang up, I would hear him say “tell Half-Pint I said hello to grumpy butt too.” That always made Charlie and me laugh.

This morning, ten minutes before we were supposed to meet, I got a notification.

Cooper: so sorry madeline finn called in because olive’s having those bracton hill contractions

Cooper: i have to cover for him this morning

Cooper: please dont hate me

Cooper: were still good for tonight right

I sighed and pushed down any thread of disappointment, reminding myself that we had lives to live. This wasn’t the only thing happening for him. I was busy too. Too busy to be disappointed in something as simple as a justified excuse to miss our morning breakfasts.

Me: Totally fine. I’ll see you tonight! Do you want to meet at your house or mine?

Cooper: yours

Cooper: go to cafe

Cooper: adele has your order

Cooper: not the singer

So I did just that. And sure enough, there was my order, along with a pink sprinkled strawberry doughnut sitting right beside it. The order was under Madeline, but in the notes, it said: sorry i messed this up with the cutest little frowny face on the side.

I texted him a quick thank-you while Piper and I snuck away to the lobby. We spent most of the day moving from room to room, her begrudgingly, while Charlie was at school. On Fridays, I focused more on the corners and crevices that weren’t often seen, mostly dusting and wiping down blinds or near plugs and behind desks. It was the nice part about not being assigned to the staterooms. I had a more flexible schedule than anyone else in my position.

Piper kept quiet most of the time, at one point falling asleep while sitting up with a cheese puff in her mouth.

I finished up just in time to get Charlie from school, so I put all my supplies in the cleaning closet and carried Piper to the car. She screamed bloody murder the entire fifteen minutes to the school and through the car rider line, only slightly settling down when Charlie popped in beside her.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” he cooed to his sister, hushing her a little as I pulled away. “You hungry?”

Piper’s slowed cry quickly turned into an ear-piercing wail. Charlie and I both winced. “I got a Slim Jim in my purse, baby. Do you want that?” I asked quietly, but she only cried more.

The whole way home, Charlie made attempts to stop her tears. Wanna watch Elsa? Or Pokey? What about a piece of chocolate? I have crayons in my backpack. Want them? And when he started moving his hands, singing “Baby Shark.” You would have thought he was stabbing her. Her screams were so loud that at a red light, the person in the car beside me looked our way to ensure no one was dying in our vehicle. I waved a hand in apology.

When we finally pulled into our driveway, I rushed out of the car to grab her.

“Shh, shh. It’s all right, sweet girl.” I picked her up and settled her on my chest as she pulled her legs around me and clung tight to my neck.

I reached a hand up to her forehead and winced when it was burning hot.