Malory swallowed hard. That wasn’t the answer she’d expected.
Christopher tipped his head toward her. “Oh, I’ve pissed you off. Wil, what would my life be if I didn’t always piss you off?”
Her brows furrowed. She didn’t want to be pissed off. She wanted to be happy to hear him say those words, but the last time he’d said them they hadn’t held up. Just as they hadn’t held up with Alan.
“Can we talk about something else?” Malory gave it some thought. “Christmas pageant.”
“Okay, what about it?”
“How many skaters are there? Are any of them any good? Who do you think will win?”
“Very specific.” He adjusted in his seat as they passed the sign welcoming visitors to Aspen Creek. “There are only six skaters. Yes, two of them are very good. And if I had to choose, I’d say seven-year-old Allison Smith will win.”
“Six skaters?”
“Yep.”
Malory shifted in her seat. “That’s not enough. How is the rink supposed to make money with only six skaters?”
“Sign of the times, honey.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“Well, Wil, what can I do? This is tradition and we hold up tradition.”
Malory shook her head and shifted her stare out the window. Her mind was fixating on the woman I love statement. She pulled her focus to the pageant. If her dad had to sell the rink to Christopher because it was failing, and there were only six skaters in the biggest event of the year, how was it going to continue?
Christopher pulled up in front of Malory’s house and put the truck in park. He laid a gentle hand on her thigh and she quickly turned back to him.
“You’re famous. Can’t you do something with that?”
He snorted out a laugh. “Well, I’m not that famous.”
Malory shook her head. “Whatever.” She opened the door and stepped out onto the snowy drive. “Oh, wait!” She spun around right into him as he came from around the back of the truck. “A hockey game.”
“We have lots of hockey games.”
“No. That’s not what I’m talking about. Don’t you have friends? Hockey player friends? I mean, how about a game of professionals? Wouldn’t they do that?”
“Wil, you’re talking in circles.”
“No, really.” She slapped her hands on his chest. “Think about it. Bring in professional players and retired players and have a game. We’ll sell tickets before Christmas, and it will draw a crowd. It might just save us for the year.”
He nodded and she knew he was considering it. He lifted her hands to his lips and gave them a kiss.
“Let me give it some thought.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The idea Wil had given him was brilliant. It kept him up all night. Five o’clock in the morning had come quickly, and the first skaters were in the parking lot waiting for him to open.
A celebrity hockey game. The thought continued to bounce around in his head. It would draw people from all over. The town itself would double in population for the next four weeks, but with a celebrity hockey game those numbers could go even higher. The press would come. People would spend money in the shops. They would eat at Maggie’s restaurant. They would buy pastries from Wil’s bakery. They would expect him to play.
He raked his fingers through his hair and rested his hands on his head. The last thing he needed was to have his brain rattled in his skull again. The last time he’d flown into the boards, he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. They’d said if he hit that hard again his life would be over.
He huffed out a breath. This was his home and everyone he loved lived and worked in the town. He had a chance to save it. Wouldn’t you risk your life to save what you loved, he thought.
He opened the door to the empty rink and began flipping the switches to turn on the lights and heaters. The sounds of the first skaters on the ice filtered through the building as he headed toward the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
Harvey would see the benefit in an event of such grand proportion.
He smiled. Wil was a genius.
While skaters filed in and out of the rink throughout the morning, Christopher sat behind the desk and planned a game to draw hundreds, maybe even thousands. There wasn’t much time. Usually an event like this would take months and months of tedious planning. He had two weeks to pull it together.
He listed retired players and coaches he thought would be happy to lend a hand. Then he thought of a few who had some wiggle room in their contracts that he knew of, who could put in an appearance. There were the few favors he could cash in, and there was one ex-girlfriend who worked in PR, who would come in handy—if Wil wasn’t the jealous type. She’d never had been that kind of girl. With a little more thought, he crossed her name off the list. With his track record he’d better not risk alienating Wil.
Harvey wandered in around ten with a skip in his step and a grin on his face. It screamed his mother’s name and Chris was going to leave it at that. He was happy for both of them.
Harvey tossed his coat on the hook by the door and dropped into a chair in front of the desk. “Whatcha working on?”
“A Christmas Pageant hockey tournament.” He tapped his pencil on the desk.
“Go on.”
Harvey moved in closer, and Christopher turned the notepad around to show him his notes.
“We only have six figure skaters. That program isn’t going to bring in more than three hundred dollars. I was thinking that if we have teams come up and play in a tournament for the weekend, though”—he scrunched up his face—“most leagues have holiday tournaments. But we could offer it up. Then . . .” He turned the page on the notepad. “We have a retired-versus-professionals game. Or some variation of it.”
Harvey nodded, considering the notebook. “You know enough people to make this happen?”
“I have a list of players to call.” Christopher sat back in his chair. “What do you think?”
“I think you only have two weeks.”
“I know.” He scratched his chin. “But I think we can pull it off.”
A thin smile crossed Harvey’s lips. “Well, I guess we’d better get busy then.”
Malory worked the bakery from four in the morning until six each night trying to meet the Thanksgiving orders. Esther had family coming into town for the first time in years and the older woman was glad to have the opportunity to be the one cooking in her own kitchen. The duties of the bakery were left to Malory, but she didn’t mind. It was how it was going to be within the next week, and she could handle that and even enjoyed it.
Maggie stopped by every afternoon when she closed up and brought Malory a plate of dinner. She’d sent her father and Christopher over during the day to make sure she had lunch, something other than baked goods.
Malory wondered if that was how it would always be, Maggie mothering her. Then again, that’s how it had always been. She didn’t miss her mother because she’d always had Maggie Douglas to take care of her.
Malory boxed up the cookies for the hospital and set them on her cart to take them out to her truck. She’d promised to deliver them on her way home so the staff would have them for their lunch on Thanksgiving. In between breads, rolls, and desserts that customers had ordered, she’d managed to make a few pies and rolls for dinner at Maggie’s.
At a knock at the door, her head shot up and then a smile settled on her lips. Christopher stood holding yet another dinner bag from Maggie in his hands.
She went to the door, swung it open, and planted a warm, long kiss on his lips. “This delivery service your mother has started sure has its perks. She has the sexiest delivery boy.” Resting her hands on his broad chest, she let her the tingling sensation that ran through her veins settle into her.
“Hmm, what kind of tipping do you do?”
She ran a gentle finger down his jaw and rubbed it over his lips. “One of these days we’ll find out.”
“I like that.” He l
et out a breath, took her hands in his, and grazed his lips over her knuckles. “I can’t stay. I have to get back to the rink. But Mom wanted me to remind you the bakery stays closed tomorrow. You are to be at her house by ten.”
“Yes, sir.” She sighed and raised her arms around his neck.
“Good girl.” He bent down and gave her a gentle brush of a kiss across her lips. “We have a date tomorrow night too.”
“Lighting of the Christmas tree.” She moved in closer, letting her body relax against his as he ran his hands up her back, sending chills through her and contemplating locking the door to the bakery. “I’ll set out the deck chairs and a bottle of wine.”
“That sounds perfect.” He caressed her cheek and then turned to leave. “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he said as he stopped and turned back toward her. “I have a confirmed six players for my celebrity hockey tournament.”
“You’re going to do it?” Her heart began to race. He’d listened to her idea. “Chris, that will be great.”
“We’ll see. I have to get a lot more players. They all promised to sign autographs and pitch in where they could. They know how important a small rink like ours is.”
“This is going to be a great Christmas.”
“I think so.” His voice dipped when he agreed.
“Something’s wrong. What is it?”
“Nothing really. It’s just that one of the guys who agreed to play and will help bring the most spectators is not one of my fans.”
“Then why did he agree?”
Christopher shrugged. “Publicity I suppose.”
“Who is it?” She asked as if she’d know the name when he said it, but the truth was she’d long given up paying attention to hockey, until she returned to Aspen Creek, that was.
“Do you remember Quincy LeBlanc?”
Malory shook her head as Christopher opened the door.
“He’s played with Detroit for most of his career. And he’s an SOB.”
“And why do you not like him?”
Christopher stepped over the threshold and the fresh snow on the sidewalk crunched under his boots. He rubbed the back of his head.
“I’m pretty sure the man would kill me if he had the chance.” He pulled his sunglasses from his coat lapel and slid them on. “Hey, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Malory watched him drive away as she stepped back into the bakery and closed the door.
Her heart still fluttered when she thought of him taking her idea for a hockey tournament and making it reality. However, there was something about the LeBlanc guy that made Christopher very uncomfortable, and she didn’t like the way he wore it in his eyes or on his face.
She went about finishing up her day and making her list for supplies.
She thought about the romantic night she would plan for them on the deck of her father’s house, in the moonlight, with a bottle of wine. She’d get him to tell her what he was worried about. It was a gift of hers. She could always get him to talk.
Armed with an entire laundry basket full of breads, pies, and three bottles of wine, Malory managed the front steps of Maggie’s house with her father only steps behind with another armload of covered dishes.
Maggie shook her head as she opened the door. “I told you to just come and have dinner.”
“Yes, well, you have dinner at noon. This will keep us fat and happy until midnight.”
Malory slid through the door as Maggie kissed her on the cheek. She continued toward the kitchen, her ear straining to hear what she thought was a lingered kiss, not on the cheek, followed by her father’s whisper and a breathless sigh.
The shear joy she felt caught her off guard. She’d waited her entire life for her father to be happy with a woman. It was never hard for her to imagine that woman was Maggie Douglas. After all, she was as close to a mother as she’d ever had. But to know, even without confirmation, that her father was in a relationship with the one woman who meant the world to her, it was just priceless.
Malory set the basket on the counter and began to unload the contents. Perhaps she had gone overboard, but it had been a very long time since she’d felt like doing so. She and Alan had been back to Aspen Creek for a few Christmases, but Thanksgiving had always belonged to his mother.
Oh, his mother never minded if you helped with dinner, which wasn’t served until seven thirty at night. But you could only help in her kitchen under her supervision. It was enough to have Malory drinking most of a bottle of wine by herself.
She hadn’t gone with him the year before. She’d made up some lame excuse that now twisted in her gut. How could she face a day of giving thanks when she’d no longer felt thankful? She’d had other plans, and now that too punched into her gut like an entire loaf of heavy bread.
She needed to let it go. She was thankful now, and that was all that mattered.
“You are beautiful.”
Malory snapped her head up when she heard Christopher’s voice. She spun to see him leaned against the counter watching her unpack the basket.
“Why are you watching me?” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.
“Because I find that when I see you lately, I just want to bask in you.” He moved to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the crevice of her neck. She felt his fingers dig into her clothing, and his breath was warm and enticing in her ear. If it were only them in the house, Thanksgiving dinner would have to wait a few hours, and she could tell by the tensing of his muscles he felt the same way. She settled into him. Was it wise that she was falling in love with him?
Was that even a fair assessment? She’d always been in love with him, but now . . .
She sighed.
“Why don’t you open this and pour me a glass.” She handed him a bottle of wine and watched as he set out to pull glasses from the shelf.
Yep, she was in love with him. How was she possibly going to manage it?
They ate turkey that her father carved into chunks as he cursed and proclaimed that he always hated that part. Malory watched Maggie’s eyes dance as she tried to catch the pieces he dumped off the knife. They were happy and that made her happy.
Since she had plans to stay in Aspen Creek for the long run, she figured she had time later to pry for the whole story. Whatever was going on between Maggie Douglas and her father wouldn’t be kept secret forever. Maggie wouldn’t be able to hold on that long.
Christopher checked his watch again as Maggie tried to pass dishes around for the third time. “Mom, the game is on in ten minutes. Can we please save some of this for dinner? Or even dinner next week?” He sat back and patted his swollen stomach.
“Fine.” She set down the stuffing. “You two go and plop your asses down on the couch. But when you’re looking for pie, I just might have eaten it all.”
He smiled at his mother and stood, picking up his plate. “I’ll do dishes.”
“No you won’t. Go. Watch your game. Let me and Wil catch up and plan out this takeover of the bakery for tomorrow. If we all feel like dinner later, we’ll warm some of this up and eat before I send Santa off to change his clothes.” She gave Harvey a wink.
“I really either need to stop offering to do that or I need to eat less,” Harvey groaned.
“It makes you more Santa-like,” she teased.
He nodded and left the room with Christopher. Within moments, the house filled with the sounds of football, and Malory sank into her chair and caught Maggie’s stare.
“What?”
Maggie leaned her arms on the table and inched toward Malory. “You spent the weekend together, and you haven’t even given me any details.”
Malory shook her head with a laugh. “You want details?”
“Spill it.”
“Well, there was a carriage ride, sushi, and sake. Cheesecake and coffee.”
Maggie smiled and inched even closer. “Continue.”
“Let’s see.” Malory wiggled in her chair. “Then we went back to the room an
d I took a hot bath, put on my pjs, and fell asleep on his shoulder watching some movie he rented.”
Maggie sat silently, then with a huff sat back in her chair. “If you don’t want to go into the details . . .”
“Those are the details.” Malory laughed. “I got drunk on sake and passed out. We went to bed and I slept it off. There are no romantic details to share.”
Maggie began to gather plates and stack them. “I was certain I could start wishing for some grandkids.”
Malory was sure the shock and disbelief flashed across her face. She stood and began to hurry dishes out to the sink, but Maggie was right behind her.
“That made you mad. What’s that about?”
“It’s nothing. I’ll get the dishes if you want to fill the sink.” Malory turned to hurry back to the dining room, but Maggie slid in front of her and stopped her.
“I didn’t mean anything by that. You have to see my side to this. I always thought you belonged with Christopher, and if I could pick a daughter, it would have been you.” She eased back a step. “Now, he was stupid a long time ago and he broke your heart. You’ve held on to that pain and fretted over it for years. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go?”
Malory could feel the tears begin to burn her eyes, and she batted them away before they could fall. “I don’t blame him anymore.” She tried to move around Maggie, but she wouldn’t budge.
“I’m kinda hoping that now that you’re both back you’ll work this little thing out between you.”
“Right now I’m just enjoying his company. The last thing on my mind is marriage and children.”
“I thought you wanted children.”
“I did, once.” The conversation was making her sick to her stomach. “Maggie, I just don’t want to talk about this.”
Maggie stepped back in front of her and reached out her hand to Malory’s shoulder. “Did Alan hurt you?” She tilted her head in to whisper.
Malory shook her head. The tears were creeping back up and ready to spill down her cheeks. “He’d never do anything to hurt me. Alan was a decent man.”
On Thin Ice Page 9
