Chapter 2 #2
Gabriel parked beside his parents’ car and hurried into the Citadel.
The main entrance opened into a lobby with a defunct fireplace on one side and glass doors to an office space on the other side.
A large deer head hung over the fireplace, its glassy eyes following Gabriel wherever he went.
Back when he was a camper here, he and his friends would try to sneak into the Citadel at night and hang their hockey skates on the deer’s antlers.
He opened the glass doors to the office.
Danielle was sitting at her desk behind an ancient computer, her glasses on the end of her nose.
Danielle had looked the same Gabriel’s entire life: petite, smooth face with two sharp lines on either side of her mouth, and gray-blonde hair in a tight bun.
Today, she wore an Orion's Belt T-shirt and a cardigan.
“Good morning, Gabe,” she said, without looking up. “You’re late. Everyone’s in the mess.”
“Good morning, gorgeous,” Gabriel replied. He dropped the cheese danish he’d lifted from Vinnie’s place on her desk. “For you.”
Danielle looked at him skeptically.
“Are you trying to bribe me for something?” she asked.
“I would never.” He absolutely would.
“Hmph. If you say so.”
“Maybe just forgive me for being late.”
She frowned. “I’ll think about it.”
He knew she’d enjoy the pastry, and hopefully wouldn’t get after him for being late. His parents might be the owners of Orion’s Belt, but Danielle had most of the power.
Gabriel waved goodbye to Danielle and left the offices, cutting across the lobby, past the bathrooms, and to the swinging doors that led to the mess.
He pushed the doors open and found the administrative team of the camp gathered around a round plastic table, drinking coffee out of sturdy ceramic mugs.
There were his parents, Don and Laurel Ackermann, fit fifty-nine-year-olds with matching short gray-blonde hair.
They both wore khaki shorts and gray Orion’s Belt T-shirts and had concerned expressions on their faces.
Also at the table was Hank the Crank, who’d been with the camp as long as Gabriel could remember. He wore overalls and had sunburned skin and a nose like a large turnip. He raised his coffee at Gabriel in greeting.
“There you are,” Gabriel’s mother said. “I hope you drove safe.”
He sat next to her. “I did, I promise. Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”
His parents exchanged a grim look.
“Richie quit,” Don Ackermann said.
“What?” Gabriel cried. Richie Groevengood had been the head coach for the boys at Orion’s Belt for two decades. He was as much a part of the camp as the cabins themselves. “He quit? Now? The first session starts next week. Counselors get here Friday.”
“We know,” Laurel said. “He got another job offer in Traverse City, and said that it was too good to turn down the money.”
“Jesus,” Gabriel said, earning a disapproving look from both parents. His parents were Christians and took their religion seriously. They were fine with having a gay son, but they drew the line at taking the Lord’s name in vain.
“Sorry,” he said. “What are we going to do?”
“Well,” Don said. “Stu Chaudhry has agreed to be an interim coach until we can find someone else who can be a full-time replacement, but I’m a little worried about finding someone this close to the start of camp. I can’t do it.”
Unfortunately, he couldn’t, though Gabriel knew that his father wanted to. Don Ackermann was a hockey fanatic and had played for years before he became the co-owner and director of Orion’s Belt Hockey Camp with Laurel, thirty years ago.
“Who’s that?” Gabriel said. “Stu Chaudhry, I don’t know him.”
“Gym teacher at Orion High,” Laurel said. “He started after you left.”
“Does he even know how to play hockey?” Gabriel asked.
“As much as any gym teacher,” Don said.
Gabriel looked to Hank the Crank. “What about you?” he said. “You’ve been here forever. Could you coach?”
Hank the Crank grunted, and that was his only response. He wasn’t a man of many words—his surly exterior had earned him his nickname decades ago.
Laurel patted Gabriel’s arm. “We’ll figure it out, honey. We just all might need to pick up some slack until we find someone, and you’ll need to show Stu the ropes when he gets here, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.”
He could tell that his parents were more concerned than they were letting on.
Last year, Gabriel had taken a more official position at the camp, basically running the boys’ half of it when his father had been sick.
He knew what their budget was, and he knew what they paid their staff.
It was good. Competitive. And Richie was like family at the camp.
Whatever he’d been offered in Traverse City had to have been very good for him to abandon Orion’s Belt at the eleventh hour.
“I’ll show him around when he gets here,” Gabriel said. “And I’ll see if I know anyone who could fill in as coach. Shoot, I’m sorry about this.”
Don, ever the optimist, just shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
Gabriel nodded, trying to hide his uneasiness.
Orion’s Belt was an institution in northern Michigan, but Gabriel had heard the whisperings that it was a vintage institution.
That it was outdated. They weren’t what they once were, and with the increasing popularity of club hockey and more expensive training programs, they were getting fewer and fewer campers each year.
Their budget was nice, but it was tightening.
If they lost their coach the week before camp started, how bad were things?
He had a dark feeling that there was a lot here he didn’t know, and that made him nervous.