December 1988 – 13 months old
December 1985 had, quite unintentionally, marked the start of a future Steele family tradition: The day after Christmas, the Steele's and Henderson's would pack up and travel to Vail, where they would spend three days at Laura and Remington's home there, schussing the slopes and simply relaxing. This would become a tradition that would last throughout the childhoods of all the Steele children.
And, in 1988, the year Olivia had turned one, that Steele tradition took on a second arm: When the Henderson's departed for the airport on the morning of the thirtieth, the Pipers would arrive in the afternoon. Thus, came an end to a tradition of Laura and Remington's own: their attendance at the Crockett family New Year's Eve gala, where, with carefully planned networking, many a new client had been finessed. But, during the early years of Olivia, then Sophie and Holt's, childhoods, it had somehow seemed more important to welcome the New Year surrounded by family.
Although there were decisions the Steele's would regret – past and future – the creation of these traditions would never be one. If they ever needed a reminder why, all they had to do was to look back at Olivia's second trip to their mountain home.
"It's snowing!" eight-year-old Laurie Beth announced, positively entranced by the cool white flakes drifting slowly downward from the sky. While snow had covered Vail and its surrounding peaks when the Pipers had arrived the day prior, it was this day that marked the first snowfall. Although Laurie Beth had been born in Connecticut, she'd only been five when the Piper clan had moved to LA, and this was the first snowfall she'd seen in the three years since. "Uncle Remington, Aunt Laura, can I go play outside? Pleaseeeeeeeeeeee?" she begged.
Remington, standing at the kitchen island where he was preparing lunch, exchanged a look with Laura where she sat on the couch with Olivia on her lap, reading a book to their little one. Donald and Frances were on the slopes, along with Danny and Mindy, leaving the decision solely up to them. Her nearly imperceptible shrug of a shoulder was all the answer he needed, and setting down his chef's knife, he wiped his hands on a towel.
"Go bundle up, ceann beag, while Aunt Laura and I get Olivia dressed," he instructed his niece then watched as she scampered up the stairs.
When the foursome trudged outside, the late morning sun glistened off the surface of the already snow covered landscape, as their feet crunched through the frozen top layer of the ice covering the packed snow beneath. A good-natured snowball sailing towards Remington, started a playful snowball fight between he and his niece while Laura set Olivia on her feet, then stooped down behind her to aid the toddler with her balance on the slick surface.
Olivia bent at her waist and tentatively poked at the whitened ground several times before turning her head to look at her mother for guidance.
"It's alright, Livvie," Laura quietly assured. "it's snow," she informed the baby, enunciating the word snow.
Picking up a handful in her gloved hand, she held it out for Olivia to inspect, then turned her hand over, sprinkling it back to the ground. The baby's tiny mouth rounded as she watched the powder fall, so Laura repeated the action, before placing a pile in Livvie's mittened hand. It wasn't long before she dropped to her snowsuit covered bottom to pick up handfuls of the icy curiosity, tossing it in the air, her laughter catching her father's attention. He watched, positively bewitched by the sight his child's blue eyes lit with wonder, the smile of excitement on her face.
Momentarily spellbound, he forgot the game afoot until a snowball landed squarely between his shoulders. Spinning around, he leveled a fierce frown on Laurie Beth who slapped a pair of hands over her mouth, her eyes widened in half-mirth, half-worry he was truly upset with her.
"You do realize, ceann beag, the price one must pay for taking aim at a man unarmed, do you not?" Eyes widening further, Laurie Beth shook her head in answer, as he crept towards her. "A sound snow dunking should the offender be caught." With a shriek, Laurie Beth turned on her heels and ran, he in pursuit.
Late morning gave way to early afternoon, when Laura perched a fedora on top of a snowman's head with a flourish, then stepped back to give their creation a jaunty, two finger salute.
"Aunt Laura, will you make snow angels with me?" her niece requested. Nibbling at her lower lip, Laura looked to a drowsy and undoubtedly chilled Olivia who was currently resting in her father's arms with her head upon his shoulder.
"Just one," she answered, firmly. "Your cousin has been outside long enough."
"Okay," Laurie Beth agreed.
"Should we go together?" Laura suggested, taking her niece's hand in hers and walking with her towards a relatively pristine swatch of snow.
"Yes," the little girl answered, elongating the word. "My mommy never makes angels with me." Laura snorted softly. No, Frances was far too uptight to fall into then roll about in the snow. It was still a wonderment to her that Donald had ever convinced Frances to join him on the slopes, given her older siste saw snowsuits as nothing more than proper mountain wear. A wicked smile lifted her lips, as she looked down at her niece. "That's because your mother is much, much older than I." She winked at Laurie Beth. "And you can tell her I said so," she smiled, imaging the look on Frances's face should Laurie Beth do so. She nudged Laurie Beth to turn her back to the clean snow. "On three. One… Two… Three…"
Amongst a great deal of shared laughter, aunt and niece, flapped their arms and legs in the snow. Seeing this, Olivia began to squirm in her father's arms, pushing away from him, making it clear she wished to be put down. He chuckled low in his throat, as he lowered her feet to the ground.
"Forever afraid you might miss something, hmmmm, a stór?" he asked with amusement, as she toddled away towards her mother and cousin.
Laura's hands and legs slowed as the baby made her way up to her, then simply climbed atop Laura and lay down, finding her mouth with two fingers. Laura automatically wrapped an arm around the baby, while turning to look at Remington.
"I think someone is telling us she's ready for a nap." Swallowing the lump in his throat which had formed at watching the moment unfold, he nodded slowly in answer, then went to retrieve their daughter and to help Laura to her feet.
As they went inside to prepare their little once for her nap, the baby reached out toward the closing door.
"No…" Livvie whined around a pair of fingers, not wishing to return inside, even as her eyelids hung at half mast and her head lay heavily on her Da's shoulder.
"The snow will be there later, baby," Laura assured her, reaching up to caress her cheek.
It was a day both Remington and Laura knew they'd remember the rest of their lives.
That evening, Remington committed to paper the image of Olivia lying on top of Laura, a sculpting of an angel carved around them. It was to be the next drawing to be hung on Olivia's nursery wall, and was simply entitled "No."