I could hear Rob and Dusty whispering in the back seat from time to time, but other than that, we traveled in silence. Tom alternately stared out the window at the passing scenery, or into the rearview mirror at Carlton. Traffic was heavy. It hadn’t occurred to me that it would be, but it should’ve. The Rocky Mountains have some of the best skiing in the world, and from Denver you have to take I-70 most of the way up to get to the resorts. Things were at a dead standstill going into the Eisenhower Tunnel. I waited impatiently, my eyes straying to the left to watch the colorful chair lifts of Loveland Ski Resort making their way up the snow-covered mountain. “I have an idea.” Rob’s voice interrupted my musings. He spoke softly, as if he wasn’t sure how I’d react. It made me wonder just how much of a bitch I’d been recently. I didn’t like thinking that way, but it was probably the truth. I was gearing up for a battle, and it probably showed. Tom turned, looking over the top of the front seat.
