Free The President's Daughter by Ellen Emerson White

rescue the grumps from him .” She went over to the window, checking to make sure that it was locked, and then closing the curtains.
    â€œNo, don’t do that,” Meg said. “How will Arthur get in?”
    â€œI’m sure he’ll think of something,” her mother said.

5
    HEADING FOR THE life line for a third time the next morning, Meg felt someone glide up next to her, and turned to see Linda, stiff but well-groomed in her light blue ski suit, smiling that sterile smile.
    â€œWould you like to share a chair up?” she asked.
    â€œSure,” Meg said. Being trapped on a ski lift had to be the ultimate example of a captive audience.
    â€œI thought we should get to know each other better,” Linda said.
    Oh, boy. Her mother had undoubtedly put Linda up to this. Meg smiled and nodded.
    â€œH-how is it?” Linda gestured up the mountain.
    Meg shrugged. “Great. Maybe a little icy.”
    Linda looked nervous. Scared, actually.
    â€œIt’s not that bad,” Meg said quickly. “Just stay away from the fall line.”
    Linda nodded. “Your mother tells me you’re very good.”
    â€œI don’t know.” Meg leaned forward against her poles for a few seconds, stretching. “Steven’s probably going to be the best out of the three of us.”
    â€œWhat about Neal?” Linda asked.
    â€œWell,” Meg straightened up, moving forward in line, “he’s been doing it since he was three, so he’s pretty good, but Dad doesn’t like him skiing alone, so we take turns keeping him company.” In fact, keeping Neal company was sometimes one of her favorite parts of skiing. She loved to watch him square his shoulders, push off down a slope—and laugh all the way down. She glanced at Linda. “Have you been skiing long?”

    â€œNot particularly,” Linda said. “I went a few times when I was in college. I prefer golf.”
    Which was only the most boring sport in the world, in Meg’s opinion.
    â€œAnd, of course, I go to the gym,” Linda said.
    Which was almost as boring as golf. Meg—who considered herself to be in pretty damned good shape—had once taken an exercise class with Beth and Sarah Weinberger, neither of whom did more than an occasional flight of stairs, and had found it so difficult that she had had to fake a sudden, extreme headache.
    They didn’t say much of anything else until they were in the chair on their way up the mountain.
    â€œEric told me he saw you talking to someone from the Times this morning,” Linda said, shifting her poles to her right hand.
    Maybe her mother hadn’t initiated this, after all. “Oh, the Times ,” Meg said. She hadn’t been sure where the man worked. “I knew he was from one of the papers.”
    Linda looked at her critically. “What did he ask you?”
    Meg thought back. “I don’t know. It was no big deal.”
    Now, Linda frowned. “Well, can you try to remember?”
    â€œHe wanted to know how the skiing was here, and I said that it was really good.” Meg moved the zipper on her new jacket—her mother had insisted—up and down, thinking. “Then, he asked if I liked coming up here, and I said yes, and he said it must be nice to be spending time with my mother, and I said yes, and he said it must be hard to have her away so much, and I said that we missed her and everything, but that she was always there if we needed her.” Meg glanced over. “Is that okay?”
    â€œThat’s fine.” Linda’s smile was significantly less sterile. “I should have realized that you’d be pretty well politicized.”
    â€œBut, it’s true,” Meg said. “I wouldn’t have said it, if it wasn’t true.”
    Linda just nodded, seeming very pleased by her performance.

    â€œShe always comes if we really need her,” Meg said.
    Linda nodded.
    Maybe she