Chapter 4
CLARA
I needed to get away from Beck and his plan to rip down the place that had saved my life. Charlotte was right. The arena was a part of the town's history, part of his own damn legacy.
The farthest place I could get to was the storage room. My knees shook and I steadied myself by holding onto a metal rack. The room tilted I dropped onto a box of coffee filters.
The tears I'd been holding in burned as they streamed down my cheeks.
"Clara?" Megan stood in the doorway, my antlers in her hand. "You dropped these."
I swiped at the tears and tried to stand to take the antlers. "I was checking to see if we were low on the dark roast beans. I'll be right out."
"Sit," Megan ordered. "What's going on?"
How could I put it into words? "I'm not feeling well."
My lie was met with crossed arms and raised eyebrows. "The breakfast rush is over, and with this storm, I doubt lunch will be busy. You can go home and recover from your… stomach bug."
Even on a slow day, running the cafe alone was a tough job. I couldn't do that to Megan. "I think it's passed." Steeling myself, I lowered my head, hoping to conceal my exhale as I stood. Thankfully, the room stayed still and the tears stopped falling.
"Go sit in my office." Megan stepped aside. "Take a minute to compose yourself. I'll come and get you when that guy is gone."
"That's not necessary." I brushed invisible dust off my hands on the front of my apron.
Both of us looked in the direction of the cafe as the bell above the front door jingled. "I'll get back to work now,” I said.
"Not with those eyes." Megan took me by my arms and steered me to her office. "I've cried over a man before. It happens." She handed me a tissue. "It's best if they don't see it."
How did she know I was crying over Beckett? All she'd seen was her staff member freak out on a customer about a building project.
"Megan—"
"Wait here. Take a breath. Have some water and pull yourself together. After the breakfast rush you can tell me all about that asshole."
My boss was cool, but we weren't exactly at the girlfriends-at-a-sleepover confidante level. "I'm overreacting. I'm sorry."
Megan glanced behind her. "I know you, Clara, and I've never seen you cry. Take your time, come out when they're gone, and after the rush we can decide if you're overreacting or not. Sound like a plan?"
Nodding, I blew my nose. "Thank you."
"We've all been there." Megan squeezed my shoulder then left her office.
The whirr of the espresso machine and laughter from the coffee shop filtered through the walls. Pacing the room, I studied the time sheets on the wall, periodically checking the status of my eyes.
Still as red as a pothead's.
Sighing, I sat in the chair and blew my nose again.
Were they still there? I didn't dare peer into the cafe.
Spinning in the office chair, I replayed Beckett's words.
Tear down the rink. That ice was where I'd landed my first triple lutz.
My mom's photo was in the display case, pink spandex dress, permed hair and all.
Would that photo get bulldozed into the ground?
What would happen to the kids' program? Little Maddie was just about to nail her lutz.
Without the free figure skating lessons, she wouldn't be able to access the ice.
Could the town really sell the arena? I wouldn't be the only one opposed to this plan.
My back straightened and a fire ignited in my belly.
If enough people got together, could we stop this?
I wasn't going to let Beckett come home and ruin Christmas.
No, I wasn't going to let him tear down that rink without a fight.
With my antlers in place and confirmation that the whites of my eyes no longer matched the red bells, I grabbed a bag of coffee beans and marched onto the floor. I had work to do.
I filled the coffee grinder before I let myself look at table four. My shoulders dropped and my stomach unclenched - the chairs were empty. Megan was wiping down the table.
"I was just about to come and get you." She rinsed the rag in the sink. "Are you sure you're up for working? It's totally okay if you need to take the afternoon off."
"I'm more than okay. I have skating right after my shift, so even if I go home, I'll have to come back into town." The drive was over thirty minutes and to save on diesel, I tried to only do it only once a day. "I'd also like to keep busy."
Megan shut off the water and leaned against the sink. "Oh, Clara. I'm an idiot. The rink. Here I was, thinking you were crying over a man, but of course, you're upset about the arena."
I took the rag from her hand and wiped down the cutting board in front of the toaster. "You're not an idiot." I hesitated. "It's about both."
Anyone who has spent time in a small-town rink knows that they have a ‘smell’. A mixture of cleaning supplies, refrigerant, nacho cheese, the kind in the pump. It's a terrible smell, and I loved it.
The Zamboni finished its last pass of the ice. Maddie stood beside me, her mittened hands on the boards, waiting for permission to step onto the wet surface. "Do you think anyone else will show up today?"
The snow hadn't stopped. Maddie's dad, Phil, drove a snowplow for the town and had plowed the laneway to the rink to drop off his daughter.
"I'm not sure. If not, we can practice your Christmas Carnival solo and you won't have to worry about hitting any little kids."
Maddie's eyes sparkled. "I can do the lutz on dry land. I've been practicing."
My heart swelled. "Then you’ll get it on the ice. Once you have the feel, all it takes is a little bravery."
"And speed. Can we go on now?"
The ice gleamed, and if Maddie fell she'd be soaked. But I didn't want to put the idea of falling into her head. She was focused and raring to go. Why dampen that?
She nailed the lutz on her third attempt, then repeated it when her dad showed up.
After she left, I turned off the Wizard of Oz soundtrack, put on my skating playlist, and started with some lazy laps.
My hair whipped at my cheeks as I turned backwards, launching into an easy single axel.
Inspired by Maddie, I picked up speed and did a double toe-loop, then a triple.
It had been years since I'd attempted a triple lutz, and since Maddie was willing to fall on her ass a few times, I picked up speed, glided on my left foot, the right poised to stab the ice and launch me into my lutz, but I hesitated, and popped it.
By now I was breathing hard, and rested my hands on my knees as I recovered.
Maddie was a recipient of the Chance Rapids Women's Benevolence Society's sports program.
The ladies raised funds to pay for ice time for kids whose parents couldn't afford to send them to the regular lessons.
Debbie, one of the organizers, tried to pay me for coaching, but I refused.
My mom had been the first of the society's figure skating coaches, and if it wasn't for the little old ladies and their bake sales, I wouldn't have made it to Nationals at the age of fifteen.
The town gave the program a highly reduced rate for its ice time. Would the owner of a multi-million dollar sports complex let little girls skate for free? I knew the answer. If this rink got torn down, kids like Maddie would slip through the cracks.
"Try it again!" A voice echoed through the building.
Donnie, the Zamboni driver, leaned on the boards, holding his work gloves. I hadn't noticed that he'd opened the doors and the machine sat idling behind him.
"My time is over." I pointed to the faded Coca-Cola time clock.
"They canceled public skating,” Donnie shouted. "You've got all the time in the world, and I've seen you land that one before."
Donnie had been the custodian at the rink since I was a kid, and I think he'd had a thing for my mom.
He always let her stay a little longer so I could run my routines alone on the ice.
I wasn't ready to try another lutz. I skidded to a stop next to Donnie and propped my hip against the boards. "Why did they cancel? The weather?"
"I'm not sure, kid. The mayor called and left a message telling me it was canceled."
Mavis.
"Hey, Donnie. Have you heard anything about a new hockey team coming to town?"
His furrowed brow told me he hadn't. "A new hockey team? No. I haven't heard anything about that, but I'm usually the last to know about these things." He put on his gloves. "It'll be tough to fit another team on the schedule."
I jabbed the toe-pick of my skate into the ice. "Yeah. This morning Mavis was at the cafe meeting a developer. The town is thinking about selling the rink. They want to put up townhouses here."
The toothpick in Donnie's mouth stopped moving. "What else did you hear?"
"I probably shouldn't say anything, but then again, if they didn't want anyone hearing their shitty plans, they shouldn't have held their meeting at the coffee shop.
Some NHL team owner is expanding the Northern Professional Hockey League into the west. He wants to build a big fancy rink here for his team. "
Donnie lips formed a line around the toothpick. He nodded. "I see. So why tear this down? This barn is a classic, and we really could use two ice surfaces in town."
Leaning my elbows on the boards, I studied the scratch marks in the ice, noting the gouge I'd created on my flubbed lutz attempt.
"I think the hockey team and new rink is a ruse.
The developer just wants to build townhouses on the land, and by building a new rink, he'll get this land for basically nothing. Or something like that."
Shaking his head, Donnie clapped his work gloves together. "What is happening to this town?"
"I know.” I sighed. "I'm worried about the skating program, Donnie. Do you think we can stop this?"
His shoulders sagged. "I doubt it, honey. But we've gotta try. The church ladies are a lot more powerful than you think. I'd start with them. Wait a minute." He tilted his head. "What does Logan Brush think about this? The Bobcats fill this rink every weekend."
"I don't know, Donnie. I think Charlotte was a little caught off-guard this morning too."
"BJ was there?"
Donnie was old enough to remember when Charlotte's name was Billie-Jo. "Yes."
"Start with her. Get her on your side. Logan grew up skating here. If there's anything I know about hockey players, it's that we're superstitious and sentimental. He'll want to save this place." Donnie's eyes shimmered. His job could be on the line too.
"Not all of them." I kicked at the ice with my toe-pick. "Guess who is representing the developer." I didn't wait for Donnie to guess. "Beckett Shepherd."
"No shit." Donnie put on his gloves. "He was a good kid, but money does funny things to people."
Gulping down the lump in my throat, I wondered if Donnie remembered my history with Beckett. Money does do funny things to people, so do hockey scholarships.
"I'm going to stop him, Donnie."
The weathered skin next to his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "That's the spirit. Now, get out there and land that backward stab jump."
My laugh echoed off the high rafters. "Thanks Donnie. It's called a lutz."
"I know.” He winked.
I put on some pump-up music, slipped the phone into the pocket of my jacket and draped it over the boards. For the first couple of strokes, my to-do list looped in my mind. I should call Charlotte, meet with the church ladies, find out the details of the plan.
I skated faster, the yellow and blue stands blurred in my peripheral vision as my to-do list faded away, replaced with the opening guitar riff of Thunderstruck.
Donnie cranked the sound system. With the weight of the morning off my shoulders, suddenly saving the rink, enjoying Christmas, and landing the lutz, all felt possible.
I settled into a rhythm, gliding down the ice at a speed that was slightly uncomfortable. I reached my foot back, but right as my pick dug into the ice, I caught a glimpse of Donnie and three people standing with him.
I knew the second I launched into the air that I wasn't going to make it. The jump was under-rotated and I landed on the side of my blade, the force knocking me onto my ass. The music stopped and I studied the snow on my gloves. I didn't want to look at Donnie.
Or the guy standing beside him. Even at triple-lutz speed, I knew it was Beckett.