Always on My Mind by Susan May Warren

nearly feel the tug of a walleye on the end of his line.
    “So you think these skis are the best for backcountry touring?” The man inquiring held a pair of Fischer Orbiters and looked like he might be more suited to lounging in front of a wide-screen than tromping through the bushy, untamed wilderness of northern Minnesota. Balding and carrying an extra fifty pounds in front, he wore an oversize ski jacket over a pair of suit pants and dress shoes as if he had left the office in a hurry, still undecided about his vacation north.
    Casper met too many weekend wilderness enthusiasts   —in fact, Evergreen Resort had built its legacy business on these city folk who developed an itch to explore.
    At 1 p.m. on a crisp, beautiful day, Casper understood that itch far too well. He tore his gaze away from the wide picture windows at the back of Wild Harbor Trading Post, showcasing the view of the frozen harbor, and onto his customer.
    “Yeah, the Fischer is a great choice.” Casper took the ski, black and yellow, still fragrant with fresh wax. “It has a wider body, so you get more stability going down the hills and more traction as you trek up. It’s a fantastic cross-country ski. And it comes with a one-year warranty.”
    “What do you think of these, honey?” a voice called across the store.
    Casper’s gaze tracked over to the man’s wife. Similarly built, she had her eye on a pink ski jacket and black pants. She wore a parka, jeans, and a fleece headband over her dark hair. She held up the jacket to her husband.
    “Pretty,” he said and turned back to Casper. “What bindings would you recommend?”
    Raina had hair like that. Smooth and silky   —
    “And do they come with boots?”
    Oh. He found a smile for the customer and sorted through the options. “Fischer makes a great binding   —the Magnum. It’s an all-purpose binding for backcountry skiing. The steering plate is contoured, so you have better control and turning in the rough. And these here   —” he reached over and grabbed a pair of track boots   —“are the matching boots. Again, all-purpose, warm. They have a wool liner and a built-in gaiter. And the top zipper helps for easy slip-on. I myself have a pair of these and love them.”
    That last bit was nearly true   —he’d taken the equipment for a spin just a few days ago with Ned, as part of his sales training. He’d also watched videos on all the products, tried out the line of demo snowshoes, and taken a snow bike out for a ride. He already owned much of the accessory gear   —the Nordic socks, the all-weather gloves, even the backcountry trackers.
    Ned Sutton had taken one look at Casper   —attired in a cleanpair of khakis, a dress sweater he’d dug out of his closet, and one of his dad’s ties   —and offered him the job. It helped that Casper and Ned had trekked nearly all the back trails during their high school days.
    Dude, seriously? You’re back   —and willing to get a real job?
    But what choice did he have, really?
    “And where’s the best place to go for   —you know, beginners?” the man asked. He glanced at his wife as if he was referring to her.
    Casper played along. “We have a trail that overlooks Deep Haven called the Pincushion Trail. It’s well-used, so it’s groomed and gives you a fantastic view of the lake. As for others . . .” He walked to the desk, to the pile of brochures, and handed him one. “Here is a complete guide of trails in the area.”
    The man took it, shoved it into his pocket. Handed Casper the skis. “We’ll need a set for the wife, too. And anything else she wants.” He winked at Casper, who didn’t know what to do with that.
    But he fitted them for skis, boots, bindings, poles, and even that outfit, as well as hats, mittens, and face guards.
    “You can stop back in tomorrow to pick up your equipment from the shop.”
    Ned clamped Casper on the shoulder as they left, packages in tow. “You’re my hero. Or maybe my