Above the Snowline His Forgotten Anchor

"Packing up? Going back to that old place of yours?"

He dragged a chair over and sat, looking down at me.

"Beatrice, is this because I didn't say your name at the launch? Are you sulking about that?"

"That was a business event. The sponsor signed for the partnership IP between me and Julie. It's spelled out in the contract."

He paused, and his tone eased a little.

"Once the sponsorship money comes through, we'll put a down payment on a place in the city, put it in your name. Good enough?"

I set the last book into the box and sealed the flaps with tape.

"No need."

Austin's brows drew together.

Just then his phone rang—Julie's personal ringtone.

He picked up, and his voice turned gentle in an instant.

"What's wrong, Julie? Still awake?"

Her voice came through the line, thick with tears.

"Austin, I think the altitude-sickness aftereffects are flaring up again. My head's so dizzy…"

He shot to his feet and grabbed his coat.

"Don't move around, I'm coming right over."

At the door he stopped, turned his head back toward me.

"Julie's not doing well. I have to go. Get some sleep early, and quit acting up."

The door slammed shut.

I sat in the quiet living room, looking at the calendar on the table.

The 15th, the date circled in red pen.

A year ago today, I coughed up blood at Camp Two. The doctor said my lungs had taken irreversible damage and would need a checkup every year.

I picked up a pen and blacked out that red circle.

Then I dialed the moving company.

The next morning, the team held its debrief at the studio.

Austin sat at the head of the table, Julie at his right hand, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands.

When I came in, his eyes lingered for a second on my empty hands.

Normally I arrived half an hour early to have the materials and drinks ready for everyone.

Today the table was bare.

"Beatrice, what took you so long? Where are the materials?" Austin rapped his knuckles on the table.

"Today I'm only here to listen." I pulled out the chair at the very end and sat down.

His brows knotted deeper. Julie tugged lightly at his sleeve.

"Austin, let it go. Bea probably didn't sleep well last night. Let's just start."

She walked to the projector and opened the slides.

"The commercial climb on Everest's south face is our main event."

"I've reached out to a few media outlets. We're planning a documentary that follows the whole thing."

Julie pointed at the route map on the screen, talking smoothly.

"But the weather on the south face changes too fast. We need an extremely precise weather route guide and camp plan."

She paused, and her eyes turned to me.

"Bea, I heard you've got an exclusive data set you spent half a month putting together. That's right, isn't it?"

The conference room went quiet.

That data—I'd compared five years of cloud maps for the south face, cross-referenced feedback from over a dozen weather stations, and marked every avalanche risk point.

I'd made it for Austin's safety.

"That route guide is my own work." I looked at Julie, my voice flat.

"I know." Julie smiled and came over.

"But we're all doing this for the team. You're not going up to high altitude anyway, so keeping the guide to yourself is just a waste."

"If I take it and use it, that's how the resource gets put to its best use."

She turned to Austin. "Right, Austin?"

He spun the pen in his hand, his gaze sweeping over to me, certain.

He was sure I'd say yes.

"Beatrice, send the route guide file to Julie."