“You tried to kill me.”
Really, we’re doing this again? I set down a glass of cabernet and stare at my sister. Beamer is at her historical best. “I did not try to kill you!” I tell her for the millionth time.
“You shouldn’t have skied so fast. You were out of control when you slammed into me.”
“I hit an ice patch.” My voice rises, so I breathe deep and reach for my glass.
She smirks. “You could have killed me.”
Oh for the love of God. “Did it ever occur to you, that you saved my life?”
Her brows wing up. “Uh huh, and how did I save your life?”
“I was what, fourteen, fifteen?” Sensing a trap, Beamer gives a slight nod, so I continue. “When I hit the ice, I was headed straight for a huge tree trunk.” I hold both hands out from my sides. “Huge.”
“You were out of control.”
“Yeah, well, who knew skis had edges.”
She splutters. “Of course skis have edges. Mom and Dad wouldn’t let you …”
Her voice trails off and I nod. “Mom only skied a few times and Dad, well Dad made it up the mountain to film us, but I’m not not too sure how he made it down again.”
“Okay, but what about ski team, didn’t they check our equipment?”
“Beats me, you were on the alpine team, but I skied cross country.”
“Well,” she purses her lips, “you stole my car.”
Oh for the love of God.