Chapter 20 Touché
Everett
Stella’s vague statements might as well be riddles with no answer because I have no idea what they mean or how to solve them so we can go back to New York.
I’m not used to not having the answer. As captain, I lead my team, but I feel like I’m completely floundering when it comes to leading us home.
The last thing I want is to disappoint her.
Her mouth falls open as she stares at something on her phone.
“Whatcha looking at?” I ask as she sets her phone on the table, screen side down.
“A couple of the girls from the meeting are texting me.” She massages her temples and physically shakes off whatever thought is in her head.
“Did you respond?”
“No, I don’t even know who they are.”
I shrug. “Doesn’t mean you have to ignore them.”
“If strangers were texting you, would you respond?” Her gaze flicks upward as she takes a deep breath, reaching for her mug.
“To them we aren’t strangers,” I whisper. “Maybe they have information that could help us.”
“This is all too much,” she says, sliding her phone off the table and putting it into her coat pocket.
“I know it’s a lot, but we got—”
“Here we go,” Ruth says, approaching our table with our plates. She sets them down and then hands me a syrup container from an unused table behind her.
I cover my toast with the sticky substance and then pass it to Claire.
“Can I get you anything else?” Ruth asks.
A way home.
“No, I think that’s it,” Claire says, looking down at her food.
“All good here,” I say. “The plain French toast is perfect. Good choice.” I throw her a wink, and she blushes. Giggling like a school girl, she leaves and walks over to another table.
Leaning forward with my fork, I steal a piece of the bread off Claire’s plate.
“Food stealer,” she quips, slapping at my wrist as a laugh bubbles out of her.
These are the moments I wish I could hold onto. I like making her laugh, and every time her face falls, I desperately want to make the negative feelings go away—want to see her smile.
“I knew it,” she accuses.
A wide grin paints my face, and she rolls her eyes.
“What? She gave me plain. I wanted to try the eggnog.”
“Then you should’ve ordered it.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Nothing is fun about this situation.”
“I’m having fun.” I chuckle, running the piece of toast through the syrup before putting it in my mouth.
Her eyes flick upward, and she shakes her head.
“Where were we before I got those texts?” she asks, picking at some of the whipped cream on the edge of the plate. “Oh! Spirit of the town and whatever the hell it means.”
“Well, what do we know about the town?”
“Stella put us here. It looks like a Christmas card. We’re married.” She spins the rings on her fingers and I watch, mesmerized by the movements of her delicate hands. “People seem to know us. There’s a town square with…” She counts the shops we saw earlier on her fingers. “Nine shops.”
“Maybe we have to get to know the people here?” I shrug. “Like those girls texting you, maybe we befriend them.”
“No, that doesn’t make sense.” She runs her hands through her hair, and once again I’m hypnotized by her movements. Pulling out the schedule Stella gave us from her pocket, she studies it.
“You think it’s the competition?”
“Maybe,” she says, biting her lip. “But why?”
“Could she have brought us here because they needed people to judge it.”
Seems like a whole lot of trouble, but Stella doesn’t seem like the type of person to do things simply.
Her eyes scan the paper, and I sip my latte, swallowing down the sweet liquid.
“Ha!” I laugh. “Could you imagine if she brought us all the way here just because no one else wanted to be the judges. Talk about going through a lot of trouble just to pick a winner.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s it.”
I reach for the schedule. “Can I see that?”
She nods, handing it to me. I do my best to make sense of what I’m reading, but the answer to getting us home doesn’t seem to be on this piece of paper.
“This sucks. I wish I could call my sister,” she says, picking at her toast.
“Is that who you tried to call this morning?” I ask.
She nods and looks back down at her food. “Well, her and my parents. You?”
“I tried the team doctor and then my coach.”
“That’s it?” Her sapphire eyes find mine.
“Yeah. I was supposed to go in today to have my shoulder assessed before practice. Figured I needed to let someone know I wouldn’t be there.”
“You didn’t call any family or friends?”
I shake my head.
“Did you not try to call your ballet people?”
“No, I stopped when the calls wouldn’t go through to my family.” She goes back to eating, or rather just moving the food around her plate. Her gaze clouds, and her fingers toy with the silver chain around her neck.
“I’m not super close with my parents,” I admit, my face falling.
“Oh? We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“It’s fine. I can see that look in your eye like you want to know.” I lean back in the booth, my shoulders slumping a little.
“There’s no look. I don’t care,” she feigns, her eyes finding mine.
“Yes, you do, but there’s no story to tell. We just aren’t super close. I see them a couple of times a year, and I try to talk to them monthly.”
“That’s it?” The hand that was still fiddling with her necklace falls to her lap.
“They don’t live in New York, and they travel a lot for work. If I’m honest, I don’t even remember where they are right now. Australia, I think…or maybe it’s Austria.”
I think back to the last time we spoke. Goodness, it had to be over a month ago.
“You have siblings though, right? You didn’t want to call them?”
I nod. “A sister.”
“What’s her name?”
“Maren. We used to be a lot closer, but she lives in Wales with her husband and two girls now. We do our best to call, but you know how life goes. You make a plan, and then the next thing you know, two weeks have gone by and you still haven’t talked.”
“I’m sorry.” Her blue eyes find mine again, and my heart skips below my ribs.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It sounds lonely. My little sister, Andi, is my best friend. We’ve never gone a day without talking.”
I do my best to force a smile. “She and I are both busy, so it’s okay. I get a lot of snail mail from her girls, but sometimes making time to talk or visit is hard.”
“Like letters?”
“Yeah, her oldest, Elsie, is six and is learning to write, so I’ve been getting more hand written letters lately.
They’re a little hard to decode, but I do my best.” I chuckle, and a smile spreads across my face.
This time it isn’t forced. Elsie and Iris have always had that effect on me.
“In the last one, she was asking if I’d buy her a pomeranian because Maren told her no. ”
“And her little sister?”
“Iris is four, so she mostly sends me drawings and doodles.”
My mind wanders to the art that covers my locker, and I wonder if I’ll ever see them again.
“Is she who drew the picture in your wallet?”
“That one’s actually from when Elsie was younger, but I keep it with me everywhere I go.”
Setting her fork down on the table, she picks up her drink.
“Do you ever write them back?”
“Of course I do. Writing them back is the bare minimum.”
She hums. “What about friends? You didn’t want to try calling them?”
“They all went out last night after the game.” I take a bite of my eggs. “No way they would’ve answered.”
Her face falls, and her head tilts to the side.
“I’m not some lonely loser,” I continue. “I have my team and my friends. My parents and sister are good people; they just stay busy, and that’s okay because I’m busy too.”
“That’s not what I was thinking,” she says, sitting up a little straighter and sipping her latte.
“Then stop looking at me like I am. I’m good with it. I’ve never known any different, so it’s cool. And honestly, after all these years of the media’s attention, it’s nice to be alone sometimes.”
She presses her lips together and studies me.
“Will you tell me more about your nieces?”
I smile, and my body relaxes. “Elsie wants to play hockey like me, and Iris loves everything that sparkles.”
“That’s sweet. Have they ever done ballet?”
“I don’t think so. Elsie definitely wouldn’t go for it.” I chuckle.
“Why not?”
“She’s a real tough cookie.”
“And you don’t think dancers can be tough?” She blinks, cocking her head.
FUCK!
Talk about inserting my foot into my mouth. Why the fuck did I say that?
“No, that’s not what I meant,” I try, shaking my head and running a hand through my hair.
“It’s fine. I know the tutus and glitter don’t really give off a tough vibe, but I think you’d be surprised how tough we are. How much we put our bodies through to do what we love, all while not wearing helmets and pads.” She smirks.
“Touché,” I say. “I promise I wasn’t shitting on what you do. I think what you do is incredible. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She moves her toast around, but doesn’t look up at me. “How about the younger one? Is she tough enough to be a ballerina?”
“Oh, definitely.”
“Well then, I think she and I would get along splendidly.” Her eyes find mine, and a soft smile breaks across her lips.
“I think you would too.”
My heart expands at the thought of Claire meeting the two little girls who mean so much to me, but I shake the thought as quick as it comes. She was clear that falling in love with me isn’t a possibility, and I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.
“Are you finished?” Ruth asks, returning to clear off the table.
“I am,” Claire says, pushing her breakfast away.
“Oh, dear. You barely touched your food. Was everything okay?”
“Oh, it was delicious. I’m just full.”
Ruth nods and sets the bill on the table then clears both of our plates.
Pulling out my wallet and flipping it open, I freeze for a moment.
My thumb brushes over my niece’s drawing, and then I chuckle as I spot a pink debit card and pull it out.
The surface of the card shimmers in the light as I turn it toward Claire.
In the top right corner, Sugarplum Park Bank is stamped into the glitter, and along the bottom is my name.
“You think that will work?” she asks.
“Only one way to find out.” I place it on the small tray with the bill, and Ruth returns to grab it. Silence falls between us as we wait for her to return.
“So glad you two stayed to eat,” she says, setting the card and receipt on the table. “I’ll see you around.”
I sign, and then we both make our way out of the restaurant.