25. Tasha
CHAPTER 25
Tasha
M onty Move-out Day.
Now that it was here, I was surprised to realize I was sad about it. Since we were friends again, I was going to feel his absence. Twice a week at practice and the occasional pop-in at the Coffee Loft would hardly make up for all the time we were used to spending together.
The high school football team played on Friday this week, so I had a free Saturday. The Edge weren’t playing tonight, so Vlad was taking me out to dinner, since tomorrow night the team was leaving for a road trip. They wouldn’t be back until Thanksgiving. I wanted to try one more time with Vlad to see if there could be anything more than friendship between us, but deep in my gut, I already knew the answer.
Monty didn’t have a lot of stuff to move out since he’d been able to access his house whenever he needed anything, like winter clothes or books, so he was able to fit everything in his truck. He’d insisted on packing it himself, and I counted seven trips while I prepped my latest Crock-Pot creation .
I hurried to open the door for him for trip number eight. “Don’t forget your Halloween wreath.” I pointed to the plum, orange, and peach circlet of leaves and mesh hanging on the door.
“Keep it.”
“But—”
He shifted the box he was carrying to his hip. “It was made for this door. It’s way too small for Nana’s grand entrance.”
Just like Monty. Thoughtful but competitive and one-uppitive. Was that a word? If it was, there was surely a picture of Montgomery Biddington next to it in the dictionary.
“Thanks. I think.” I rolled my eyes, then flashed an apologetic smile. “What time are you busting her out? And would you like company?” I purposely didn’t offer help. He would insist he didn’t need it, like this morning when I tried to roll one of his suitcases to the elevator.
“Five o’clock.” He turned and walked out into the hall. “You can come if you want,” he tossed over his shoulder as he descended the stairs. “Bring some of that food you’re cooking.”
It would be ready by four, so I’d bring some for his and Nana’s dinner. Nana was throwing her own Welcome Home party tomorrow. She’d been planning it with Brenna for weeks.
Five minutes later, Monty let himself in and padded across the living space to the bar. He dropped a zip-lock bag on the counter. “Building access card and apartment keys.”
“Keep them.”
“But—”
“You’ll be back to steal leftovers. ”
“Yeah, I will. About that?—”
“Don’t you dare get mushy on me, Montgomery Biddington, or I’ll smack you and give you something to cry about.”
“Thanks for letting me stay with you, Tasha.” He pocketed the bag.
“You’re welcome. I’d say it was a pleasure, but…”
“You’d be lying.” He grinned, but then his smile waned. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t.”
“Aw, look at you being so uncharacteristically nice. I almost believe you.” I booped him on the nose with my index finger. “Take your cat home and get settled, and I’ll meet you at Mountainview at five.”
“I’ll swing by and pick you up.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Just to make sure you don’t forget the food. “
I shook my head, and he turned to go, blowing me an exaggerated kiss and waving as he closed the door behind him.
I sent off a text to Vlad, asking him to pick me up at seven instead of six, just in case moving Nana back in took more than three hours.
He texted back right away. I have reservation for six thirty at Pasta Nacht’s. Want me to cancel if no later time?
I texted him back: No, keep the 6:30. I’ll just need you to pick me up at Monty’s Nana’s house instead. She’s moving home today.
Good news! We shall celebrate your free of bear home, yes?
I snorted. How could a man who wrote such eloquent letters also write “your free of bear home”?
It did cross my mind that he might be using AI to help him with the letters, but I didn’t intend on asking.
The love letters were still coming, even though we hadn’t been out together since the Harvest Festival. He’d brought them by the Coffee Loft on game days .
Vlad was a great guy, as far as I could tell, devoted to his sport, his family, and his teammates. He always seemed excited to see me, but I wouldn’t say he was crazy about me. His kisses were quick pecks, and he was a hand-holder, not a cuddler.
Did I need that, though? Or was it just a luxury for people who didn’t have to worry about medical bills or citizenship?
With the food in the slow cooker and nothing else for me to do since Monty had hired someone to clean the apartment, I decided to take a walk down to the Coffee Loft for a pumpkin spice latte. Being here alone was suddenly unnerving.
I took the long route, taking a left out of the front door to Prospect Road, and strolled past the dairy farm and St. Mary’s to Main Street, where I turned right. This block was one of my favorite places in town. On my left, the businesses, including the antiques shop and bookstore, backed up to Snowpack Creek, and though it was cold, the creek hadn’t yet frozen over. On my right was the church, ice cream shop, and the Coffee Loft, which was perpendicular to the entrance to the back parking lot. Just beyond were the fire department and diner, just before the next intersection at Cross Creek Road.
I pulled open the door and wasn’t surprised in the least to see a full queue. I scanned the space for familiar faces. Penny and Xavier were at the table in the front corner, positioned just out of sight of the window, so I hadn’t seen them when I walked by.
Their heads were bent together, and from their expressions, I could tell the conversation was serious. Penny had one hand on her abdomen. I hoped the baby was okay. She was recently out of her first trimester and just starting to show. The last couple of weeks, she’d been fighting severe nausea, so I was glad to see her out and about. Not wanting to interrupt, I decided to get my coffee and then check in on them.
“Tasha!” Brenna waved from the end of the counter, holding up her whipped decaf in greeting. She hadn’t announced she was pregnant yet, but there’d been a lot of signs—like wearing loose clothing, a new, bigger coat, and allowing Brendan to carry her tote bag. They were too cute together.
“Hey!” I waved back.
She rushed over to me. “Get your coffee and then come sit in the corner with us. Brendan’s on his way, and he says he’s got some big news!”
I smiled. “Great!”
Betty took my order, and I moved down the counter to take my coffee from Jannell. I thanked her and waded through the people between me and the corner table. Xavier had pulled over extra chairs. I said hello and sat in the empty one between Penny and Brenna. I studied the drinks on the table. I knew their orders by heart. The guys were drinking tall green Matcha Madness shakes, a favorite of theirs since their years playing for the Voltage, and Penny sipped a Lady Grey decaf tea.
The chime over the door tinkled, and Bailey Dexter-Brewer, Jason’s sister and the Edge’s sports reporter, rushed over to us and sat in the vacant seat next to mine.
“So, what’s the news? Any clue? You must know,” I said to Bailey.
“Can’t say or comment officially until the news goes live publicly,” she replied. “But I so want to! ”
Brenna grinned widely. “I have an idea, but I made Brendan make a call to see if he could squeeze more details.”
“Sweet.” I leaned over and whispered in my sister’s ear. “Pen, are you feeling okay?”
She nodded. “Just some indigestion. The tea is helping. That’s why we came. I wanted to get out of the house. And here we are, in the middle of breaking news.” She forced a small smile.
“Here he comes!” Xavier reached to knock on the window.
Brendan was on the phone, but he looked up and smiled, rushing past us and entering the café. He unzipped his jacket and set Brenna’s tote bag gently down on her lap as he said goodbye to whoever was on the phone.
“Is it done?” Bailey asked. She scrolled her phone and frowned. “Official?”
Brendan grinned and leaned his head in. “I shouldn’t say anything, especially here, but rumors are going to start flying any hour now. And since Bailey’s here, I can totally pin it on her.”
Bailey snorted and shot Brenna a wink. “I dare you to.”
“Don’t dare him!” Brenna and Penny shouted in unison at her.
We all laughed. The players had a thing for daring one another and had gotten into some decent scrapes over the years. The best result came in the form of Xavier’s pregame good-luck toffee coffee, the result of a triple-dog-dare from Brendan back when they’d both played for the Voltage. He scored that game, and the toffee coffee stuck.
Brenna’s head whipped from Brendan to Bailey, who was grinning at her screen. “So it’s done?” she squealed. “And it’s what I think it is? ”
“Not quite,” Brendan warned. “From what I understand—and details are still to be finalized—there’s a three-way deal in the works that will result in the Edge buying out the rest of Kingston’s contract.”
“My cousin is coming home!” Brenna shout-whispered.
Penny clapped. “This is awesome!”
“Agreed,” Xavier said. “I hate playing against that guy.”
We all laughed. I didn’t understand how hockey contracts worked, so I asked. “So who’s leaving your team?”
“No one that I can tell,” Brendan said. “We have cap space for the rest of King’s contract for this year if we send our third goalie back to the Volts.”
“So who’s the other team?” I asked.
“No idea. But whoever it is, they’re giving Montana something real good. Otherwise, they never would have released Kingston.”
“And they get what from you?” I asked.
“Probably a draft pick or future considerations.” He shrugged. “It should all be finalized tonight, and King was told to meet us in Seattle tomorrow so he can play in the lineup in Monday’s game.”
“That’s so awesome!” Brenna exclaimed. “I cannot wait for Monday Night Dinner! I’m going to call Gran and tell her to plan for us all to stay later to watch the game.” She kissed Brendan on the cheek. “I’ll be right back!”
Brendan watched her go, grinning like she was his sun. “I knew she’d be excited. They’ve always been close.”
“So now all her family is back in Palmer City, right? He was the last one?” Penny asked.
“Yup,” Brendan confirmed. “And the new contract is for eight years, so it’s pretty much permanent as far as hockey goes. ”
“So will Taylor take her mindset coaching business fully online, then?” I asked. Taylor not only coached at the Kalispell Plex, but she was also a licensed psychologist specializing in sports mindset coaching and counseling for active and retired athletes—and still made cheer bows on the side.
“I’m not sure, but they’ll figure it out,” Brendan said. He nodded to Xavier. “You ready to go?”
Xavier nodded and leaned over to kiss Penny goodbye. “Call if anything changes. I can afford whatever fine they throw at me to get back to you.”
She nodded. “I’m fine, really. Go to practice.”
He left frowning, and when he and Brendan exited, Penny sighed. “It’s just a little indigestion.”
“Following ‘just a little morning sickness,’” Brenna air quoted. “I understand why his protective mode kicked in. You had a bad bout that second month.”
I turned my eyes on Penny. This was news to me. “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve helped. Did you keep a food journal?”
She shook her head. “I did, but it didn’t reveal anything in particular. And there was nothing to do. Xavier took care of everything, and Lauren checked on me when they were traveling.”
“But I’m your sister,” I said.
“And you work three jobs and live twenty minutes away. She’s next door, Tasha, and she has the same schedule as me. It’s practical.”
Another reminder I wasn’t in their hockey wives club. Penny and Xavier had recently moved into their new home next door to Lauren and Jason. I sat up straighter and tipped my chin. “I’ve got to go,” I said. “I need to figure out what I’m wearing on my date with Vlad tonight.”
I didn’t know if I was reminding them or myself that I was dating an Edge player.
“We’ll see you at the party tomorrow?” Brenna asked.
I nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Once I was out the door, I turned right and stopped at the corner to wait for the signal to cross the street. I wasn’t ready to return to my empty apartment, so instead I traversed the Creek Walk past Restaurant Row and all the way up to the town park, where I sat on a swinging bench.
The sun was warm, and I took off my jacket and held it in my lap as I rocked back and forth, watching the water rush over the rocks. Elk Creek Falls, just north of us, was the source of the creek water, and it occurred to me that I wasn’t far from Nana’s house. Behind the town park was the Brewer ranchland, which stretched north to the falls and west to Stagecoach Road.
Monty’s great-great-great grandfather had won a chunk of Brewer land in a card game, and he’d sold off all but a patch of prime mountainside property where he built the Victorian mansion Nana still lived in today and Monty would inherit. With profits from the land sales, his oldest son—Monty’s great-great-grandfather—traveled to Texas, where he purchased land and began drilling for oil.
He struck liquid gold and returned to Palmer City to try to buy the family’s land back. But the proud business owners who’d opened shops along the creek wouldn’t sell, so he was limited to what he’d kept. It was a beautiful piece of land, with unobstructed views of the Rockies and a stream fed from the falls that ended in a small lake. And the house? Extraordinary .
They were the richest family I knew, and yet no amount of money could’ve saved Mindy. And Monty couldn’t make his parents love him. When Nana died … I didn’t even want to think about how that might destroy him.
Suddenly feeling the chill, I slid off the swing and pulled my jacket back on for the walk home.
Once inside the apartment, I wandered into Monty’s room to see if he left anything. A cursory glance from the doorway revealed everything was in order, except for a stack of papers on the desk, bound by two binder clips.
I squinted at the bundle as I neared it. One third of the way down on the top page read simply, “Tasha’s Recipes for Unique Dietary Needs,” and he’d scribbled a note with the link to the document.
Heh?
I picked it up and thumbed through the pages. He’d typed up my entire recipe binder! It was all there, from the tried and true slow-cooker staples to the sugar-free desserts I’d Frankensteined for Nana. Plus, all the substitution recommendations and important reminders.
And he’d started each recipe with a quote like “Best mac; hands-down” and “You thought you needed real butter until you tried this,” and “Gooier than gourmet.”
I snorted. My brownies were unusually gooey.
What a thoughtful gesture! I needed to thank him.
I carried the manuscript to the kitchen and set it on the counter so I could text him.
I found the recipes. Thank you! You didn’t have to do that. I still don’t think anyone would want to buy a book of my hodgepodge creations.
It was nothing. I only have two jobs, so you know, lots of free time .
I laughed. Yeah, us three-jobsters definitely do not have time to type up a recipe book.
On the last page is Gia Kubek’s email. She said she’d publish it as part of her line of cookbooks if you didn’t want to produce it independently.
Oh my gosh, what? In addition to Pasta Nacht’s, Astoria Brewer’s mother, Gia, known worldwide as Tia Gia, had a multimillion-dollar culinary line of products and foods.
Stop lying. She did not!
No cap, Tasha. Promise. She’s expanding out of her Italian niche of products and thinks this would be a great addition.
Oh wow …
You’re welcome. See what Gia has to say. I’m sure she’s planning to advance you a hefty sum.
I don’t know what to say, Monty. Thank you.
You’re welcome.
I sank onto the sofa, stunned. How much was an advance? Enough to make a dent in that six-thousand-dollar bill at the top of the stack on my desk?