Early December 1985 – The Drive to Hunter Mountain Ski Resort, New York
The grey Toyota Hilux station wagon and the black Jeep Cherokee crawled steadily up the twisting mountain road, their tires crunching and squeaking through deep, untouched powder. Outside, the world was a glittering white expanse under a steel-gray sky. Snow-laden pines bowed low on either side, their branches heavy and silent, while a biting wind whispered through the narrow passes, occasionally gusting fine crystals against the windshields like icy sand.
Inside the station wagon, the heater roared on full blast, yet the cold still seeped in through every seam and window crack. The air felt damp and chilled, carrying the faint metallic tang of winter.
"I still can't believe we agreed to this," Alex muttered from the back seat, arms wrapped tightly around his chest as if trying to hold in what little warmth remained. His breath fogged in soft, visible puffs even inside the car. "It's freezing. Why did anyone think this was a good idea?"
Martha, bundled in a thick wool coat and scarf that still left her cheeks flushed pink, nodded vigorously from the front passenger seat. "My thoughts exactly. I'm already regretting every layer I didn't bring."
Duke sat hunched beside Alex, shoulders drawn up to his ears, teeth chattering with theatrical flair. "This is cruel and unusual punishment. I'm from Brooklyn. The coldest thing I've ever experienced is a broken radiator in January. Not… this." He gestured weakly at the frozen world beyond the glass.
Ashley, squeezed between them in her oversized parka, pulled her hood tighter around her face until only her eyes peeked out. "My toes are going to fall off before we even get there. Whose bright idea was a ski trip in December?"
In the driver's seat, Oliver chuckled, his gloved hands steady on the wheel as he navigated the winding road. "We all agreed to this invitation. Enthusiastically, I might add."
Jennifer, looking perfectly comfortable in just a cream sweater and light jacket, glanced back with an amused smile. "You three are such babies. It's not even that cold."
"Easy for you to say," Alex shot back. "You're part ice sculpture."
Martha laughed softly, the sound muffled by her scarf. "Oliver, remind me again why we thought this would be relaxing?"
Oliver's grin widened, eyes crinkling. "Because David and his family invited us, and it sounded like a nice change of pace. Fresh air. Snow. Family time with friends."
"Fresh air that wants to kill me," Duke grumbled, burrowing deeper into his coat.
In the Jeep ahead, Michael's family rode in warm, comfortable silence. David drove with calm confidence, while Maria chatted happily with her daughter in the passenger seat. Michael, lounging in the back, kept glancing at the rearview mirror, clearly savoring the visible suffering of his friends.
---
As the two vehicles finally pulled into the resort's main parking area, the tires crunched to a stop on packed snow. Michael hopped out first, his breath blooming in thick white clouds in the crisp, pine-scented mountain air. He waited with a mischievous grin as Alex, Duke, and Ashley emerged from the station wagon looking thoroughly miserable—faces tight, shoulders hunched against the biting wind that stung their cheeks and made their eyes water.
"Well, well," Michael teased, arms spread wide. "Look at you tough New Yorkers. Ready for some real winter?"
Alex shot him a flat look, his cheeks already a raw, wind-chapped pink. "Darker individuals aren't built for the cold, Michael. We're at a biological disadvantage."
Duke nodded solemnly beside him. "Exactly. We're not designed for this level of betrayal by the weather."
Ashley hugged herself tighter, shivering. "I'm filing a complaint with nature."
Oliver stepped out last, stretching his shoulders with a contented sigh. The cold didn't seem to bother him; if anything, a nostalgic glint warmed his eyes as he took in the snow-covered pines, the distant ski slopes veiled in soft mist, and the faint, joyful echoes of laughter and distant ski lifts drifting on the wind.
Jennifer noticed, stepping out beside him. "You look… happy."
Oliver gave a small, soft smile. "It's been seventeen years since I've been on a proper winter trip like this. Back in England, my family used to go to the Alps or the Lake District every couple of years. Expensive holidays, big lodges, roaring fires… the whole thing." He paused, gaze distant for a moment. "Feels… familiar. In a pleasant way."
Martha walked over and slipped her arm through his. "Well, I'm glad one of us is enjoying the torture."
---
The group checked in at the grand wooden lodge, its heavy beams and stone fireplaces radiating warmth that wrapped around them like a thick blanket the moment they stepped inside. The air was rich with the scents of mulled cider, hot cocoa, pine resin, and woodsmoke. Festive garlands and twinkling lights adorned the walls, and the cheerful murmur of other families filled the space.
As they carried their bags toward the connected suites, Alex glanced around, taking it all in—the polished wood, the crackling fires, the mountain views through tall windows. He had never experienced anything like this.
Growing up, his family had lived paycheck to paycheck. Holidays meant maybe a movie night or a special dinner at home—never a trip to a ski resort with heated pools, ski rentals, and sweeping mountain vistas. The very idea of a "luxury vacation" had always felt like something that happened to other people.
Now, thanks to the lottery win, Zelda's runaway success, and the first wave of royalties, it was happening to them.
As they settled into their suites, Alex caught Oliver staring out the window at the snow-covered peaks, a quiet, faraway look on his face. For a moment, Alex felt a strange mix of warmth and melancholy.
This was new for almost all of them.
But for his father, it was the kind of life he had lived long before everything changed—a life he could finally share with his wife and children.
----
The Williams and Henry families settled into their connected suites by late afternoon. The lodge smelled of pine resin, crackling woodsmoke, and rich, velvety hot chocolate drifting from the lobby below. Warmth radiated from the stone fireplaces, wrapping around chilled bodies like a thick, welcome blanket as everyone unpacked and layered up in wool, fleece, and down.
David, tall and composed in a navy sweater, stood by the large window with Oliver, both men cradling steaming mugs of coffee. Outside, fat snowflakes drifted lazily past the glass, silent and hypnotic.
"Feels good to get away," David said quietly. "Maria's been looking forward to this for weeks."
Oliver nodded, a small smile softening his face. "Martha too, even if she's pretending the cold is a personal attack."
In the next room, Maria—elegant and warm, her dark hair tied back in a loose knot—helped Gabrielle unpack.
"Alex! Duke! Come on, you're going to freeze if you don't put on proper layers!" Maria called out with a bright laugh, tossing extra scarves toward the Williams kids like colorful lifelines.
Alex, already bundled like a reluctant snowman, muttered through chattering teeth, "I'm already frozen solid. This was a terrible idea."
Duke nodded in silent solidarity, too cold to complain further now that they were finally indoors.
Ashley and Jennifer fared slightly better, though Ashley kept tugging her sleeves down over her hands, trying to hide every inch of skin from the lingering chill. "Why did we agree to this again?"
Gabrielle, already sleek in fitted ski pants and a vibrant red jacket, grinned and looped an arm around Alex's shoulders. "Because it's *fun*! Come on, little cousin. Michael and I will teach you how to ski. You'll be flying down the slopes in no time."
Michael poked his head in from the hallway, already fully geared up. "Yeah, trust us. We've been coming here for years. We'll start you on the bunny hill so you don't die immediately."
Alex shot him a flat look. "Your confidence is terrifying."
---
The group eventually braved the outdoors. The cold mountain air hit like a sharp, crystalline slap, nipping at cheeks and noses, while the snow squeaked under their boots. The resort buzzed with holiday energy: laughter echoing across the slopes, the rhythmic clatter of ski lifts, the sharp *whoosh* of skis carving through fresh powder, and the distant, joyful shrieks of children racing down gentle runs.
Michael and Gabrielle took charge of the beginners on the wide, forgiving bunny hill. They demonstrated the basics—snowplowing to stop, shifting weight for turns, and the awkward art of getting up after yet another fall.
Alex wobbled on his snowboard, arms flailing wildly. "Alright… I think I'm starting to get the feel for this!"
Duke landed hard on his backside for the third time, sending up a puff of fine snow. "Well, at least one of us is getting the hang of it," he groaned.
"Don't worry, by the end of the week you'll all be sliding downhill in no time," Gabrielle said brightly, skiing gracefully beside Duke and offering him a gloved hand.
Ashley managed a few shaky glides before losing balance and tumbling sideways into a soft, pillowy drift. Jennifer, surprisingly steady on her skis, offered her a hand with a smirk. "You're all hopeless."
Gabrielle laughed, her voice ringing like bells in the cold air, and demonstrated a smooth, carving turn. "Bend your knees! Lean into it! You're fighting the mountain instead of working with it."
Maria and Martha watched from the sidelines, bundled in thick coats and sipping hot cider that sent fragrant steam curling into the air. They called out encouragement—and plenty of gentle teasing—between sips. Further back, Oliver and David stood chatting quietly about work, their breaths visible in the frosty air, quietly savoring the sight of the kids bonding across families.
As the afternoon wore on, the beginners slowly improved. Alex completed a full run without falling, letting out a triumphant whoop that echoed across the slope. Duke finally mastered stopping without taking out innocent bystanders. Ashley and Jennifer began racing each other on the gentler runs, their laughter sparkling in the cold like the snow itself.
Michael slid up beside Alex, grinning. "See? Not so bad once you stop treating the snowboard like a mortal enemy."
Alex brushed snow from his jacket, cheeks flushed from cold and effort, a reluctant smile breaking through. "I still maintain this is a cruel sport invented by people who hate warmth. But… it's kind of fun."
Gabrielle glided over, cheeks glowing pink, eyes sparkling with delight. "Told you! By the end of the week you'll be begging to come back next year."
---
Martha watched the scene with a soft, glowing smile, leaning into Oliver's side. "Look at them. We've always wanted to do something like this… and now it's finally happening. All thanks to Alex, no less."
Oliver wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "It feels right, doesn't it?"
David joined them, Maria at his side. "Get used to it. With how their game studio is doing, things are only looking up. I honestly can't believe it hasn't even been a year and they're already making more than we do."
Laughter rippled through the group, warm and easy.
The sun began to dip behind the mountains, bathing the snow in soft hues of orange, rose, and gold. The group made their way back toward the lodge, pleasantly exhausted, legs aching, faces wind-kissed and glowing with the kind of happiness born from shared new experiences.
For Alex and most of his siblings, this kind of trip—a real holiday at a ski resort—was completely foreign. Growing up paycheck to paycheck, vacations had meant a day trip to Coney Island or a movie night at home. Luxury like this—heated lodges, crisp mountain air, ski rentals, and sweeping views—had always felt like something that happened to other people.
Oliver, however, moved through it all with quiet nostalgia. As they stepped into the warm lobby, the scent of pine and woodsmoke embracing them once more, he glanced around at the roaring fireplace and festive decorations, a faraway look in his eyes.
"Reminds me of trips back in England," he said softly to Martha. "My family used to go to the Alps or the Lake District every couple of years. Big lodges, expensive dinners, the whole thing. Haven't done anything like this in seventeen years."
Martha squeezed his hand. "Then I'm glad we're doing it now. With people who feel like family."
As evening settled in with hot, hearty meals, board games by the crackling fire, and tired, contented laughter, the two families blended seamlessly—just as they have been doing.