“Open it,” Harper said. “Hurry while we don’t have any customers. I need to go to lunch.”
“Call Chelsea. No matter what she says, she wants to know.” Better to do in the break room in case Carson Hamilton-Knox or someone like her walked in.
“I’m right here,” Chelsea said. Yes, she would be.
Merry ripped into the package and immediately began to laugh.
“What is it?” Harper demanded.
“Hockey pucks.” Merry held up the two black discs.
Harper and Chelsea had equally blank expressions.
“They’re all beat up,” Harper said.
“That’s the point,” Merry said.
“I don’t get it,” Harper said.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to.” Chelsea smiled. “We have progressed to inside jokes. Come on, Harper.”
“That was anticlimactic,” Harper said as they left the room.
There was also a letter inside. When Merry saw the seal, she laughed again. There were no wax seals, of course. If she had to guess, that bag was still in the back seat of his truck and he hadn’t thought of it again until he sealed this envelope. He’d drawn two circles on the flap with a 9 in one and a 1 in the other. She found a knife and slit open the envelope to keep from tearing the “seal.” The cupcake box was still sitting on the table. Maybe she’d have a maple one while she read the letter.
Dear Merry,
I just sat down to do my nightly correspondence. You will find enclosed two hockey pucks. I suspect I’m going to pay more to have them overnighted than they are worth, but you seem to inspire me to do things that don’t make sense. I am about to attempt to use the wax seals for the first time. If they don’t look like they are supposed to, mark it up to inexperience.
Jarrett
With the taste of maple in her mouth and scarred hockey pucks in her lap from goals scored to impress her, she was impressed.
On impulse, she picked up her phone and sent a text:
Love the pucks, but clearly you need some lessons on wax sealing.
Almost immediately, his reply came through:
Are you available to teach me?
She sat for a moment trying to think about how to answer, because they both knew they were not talking about wax seal lessons. But the silver bell on the front door rang, signaling that a customer had entered. Chelsea would be alone as, no doubt, Harper had already left.
So she simply texted back:
Yes. Bye. Must work now.
• • •
Harper was disappointed that there were no more deliveries from Jarrett that day, but Merry wasn’t. She needed a rest from the upheaval of it all, needed to remember that she’d never intended to have a relationship at this point in her life and that this was going way too fast.
In fact, by 4:00 p.m. she had decided that she was going home after work rather than going to The Big Skate to watch the game. She would keep up with the score online, but she needed some emotional breathing room, and she wasn’t going to get that by watching the Ice Prince rule his domain.
Besides, she still needed to figure out her clothes for the New Year’s Eve party. She had a dress that she wore when she sometimes had to play piano for a funeral her father was officiating. It was plain black with long sleeves and came to her knees. She hadn’t worn it since moving to Nashville. She’d try it on tonight, and if it still fit, maybe she could buy some festive heels and borrow some sparkly costume jewelry and an evening bag from Chelsea. She was always going to dressy parties. She might have a wrap, too.
“Do want me to clean out the coffeemakers?” Merry asked Chelsea. They didn’t usually do that until after closing, but the shop had been quiet and Chelsea had mentioned that she hoped they could get away closer to five o’clock today.
Chelsea looked up from her inventory paperwork. “Do you mind? If someone wants coffee in the next fifteen minutes, we’ll just—”
“Send them to Starbucks!” Harper popped out from the behind the card display.
“Make more,” Chelsea and Merry said simultaneously.
Merry had just dumped the vanilla almond, when the little silver bell announced an arrival.
“Hello, Amy!” Chelsea said cheerfully. “This is the first time we’ve seen you since the wedding.”
She had probably come in for new bullet journal supplies. After all, the New Year was imminent, and never had there been a woman more dedicated to bullet journaling than Amy Callahan—or Amy Giroux, now, if she had taken Emile’s name. It was safe to dump the rest of the coffee, because Amy wasn’t a coffee drinker. If she wanted anything, it would be tea, and tea was easy.
“And Gabriella,” Chelsea went on. “How lovely you look.”
Merry froze as she was about to dump the cinnamon caramel. Gabriella had been a few times with Amy, and Merry couldn’t remember if she’d had coffee or not.
“So good to be back in. I’ve missed the shop,” Amy said.
“Thank you. You’re very kind.” Merry loved listening to Gabriella. Her French Canadian accent wasn’t as pronounced as her brother’s, but it was there. It also had a little Southern mixed in if you listened hard, while Amy’s accent screamed South Georgia.
“What can I help you ladies with today?” Chelsea asked.
“We were hoping to see Merry,” Gabriella said.
“And if she’s not working today, could you possibly help us contact her?” Amy asked.
Unholy hell! What could they possibly want with her?
“You’re in luck,” Chelsea said. “She’s at the coffee bar. Go on back. She’ll be glad to see you.”
She will?
Merry didn’t even have time to smooth her hair or remove her coffee-stained apron before these two hockey princesses from Jarrett’s world advanced toward her.
Amy was pretty in a wholesome, girl-next-door way, while Gabriella was one of the most beautiful women Merry had ever seen. At almost six feet tall, she looked like a goddess with her waist length waterfall blond curls and eyes the color of grape juice. Today she wore a purple asymmetrical crossover sweater with washed-out jeans and purple lace-up booties. She wore no jewelry. She didn’t need any.
“Hello,” Merry said. “Good to see you both. Can I get you something warm to drink?” Say, no, please say no. Or if you must say yes, let it be tea. I’ve got clothes to figure out and after seeing Gabriella, I’m not feeling too good about the funeral dress.
“No, thank you.” Amy put an arm on the counter, leaned there, and smiled. “We’ve actually come to invite you to spend the evening with us. We thought it would be fun to watch the game together at my house. I have chili in the Crock-Pot and Gabriella brought corn muffins and some brownies that ought to be outlawed.”
And she’d just thought hell was unholy before. How was she supposed to respond to that?
Gabriella laughed. “The look on your face is priceless, Merry. You’re thinking, ‘What are these women who I have never had a social interaction with in my life doing?’ And I don’t blame you. Amy has a way of not cutting to the chase.” She cast her sister-in-law an affectionate look.
“Well, I don’t know that I thought of it so concisely, but . . . ” Merry let her voice trail off.
“We’re here to kidnap you,” Gabriella said. “We have it on good authority that Jarrett has invited you to a party with absolutely no guidance as to what kind of party it is. If you even had time to shop, you wouldn’t know what to buy. But never fear. We’re going to help you take care of that pesky little detail.”
Oh, God. They were going to take her shopping at some upscale store where she couldn’t afford to buy a camisole, much less a dress.
“I don’t know—”
“Of course you don’t,” Amy said. “How could you? This party was sprung on all of us at the last minute. Fortunately, Gabriella shops way too much, and what’s even more fortunate, she is a genius at putting things together. I, on the other hand, am not so good at shopping except
for wrapping paper. We thought all three of us could go through Gabriella’s excess and put our outfits together. Once that’s settled, we’ll watch our guys play hockey. We want you to join us.”
Merry’s head was spinning. Amy had said our guys, as if Merry were part of the hockey sisterhood and she and Jarrett were a done deal. And if that wasn’t confusing enough, they were planning to lend her Gabriella’s clothes—all the while making it sound like a slumber party parlor game and that Amy needed to borrow clothes, too. And how was that even possible given that Gabriella was so tall and Amy was so busty?
Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe the funeral dress would do. “What is the dress code?” she asked.
The other two women looked at each other and shrugged.
“We’ll make that decision when we decide what we want to wear,” Gabriella said.
Merry knew when she was whipped. After all, Cinderella hadn’t turned up her nose at help from her fairy godmother, and it looked like Merry had two.
“All right. Truthfully, I had no idea what I was going to wear.”
“Oh, honey.” Amy put a hand on Merry’s. “I’ve been there.”
Merry very much doubted that but appreciated the kindness.
• • •
Jarrett sat in his stall with a towel to his mouth. He’d gotten hit in the face with the soccer ball playing the traditional sewer ball game.
“I hate sewer ball,” Packi said. “Somebody gets hurt every season before even getting on the ice. Where did it come from anyway? Nobody ever did that back in the day when I played hockey. Let me see your mouth.”
Jarrett moved the towel. “What did you do to warm up and unwind if there was no sewer ball? And I’m not really hurt.”
“We drank coffee. Some smoked. Okay—most smoked, though I never did. Did pushups. That kind of thing.” He touched a finger to Jarrett’s mouth. “You’re okay. You don’t need a trainer. But a little ice and Neosporin wouldn’t hurt. I’ll get it.”
“Packi?”
“What?” The older man looked back over his shoulder as he was walking away.
“Do you know if Bridgestone furnishes the shoes the ice suite attendants wear?” Jarrett had enjoyed showering Merry with surprises yesterday and loved how delighted she’d been. Unfortunately, he had used up all of his ideas—until now. He had a new idea and it was really inspired. “I know the uniforms are furnished, but are the shoes? Do you know?”
“No, Jarrett,” Packi said slowly. “I can say with unquestionable confidence that that is a question I do not know the answer to.”
“I thought you knew everything about Bridgestone Arena.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I only know things that are useful. Nobody needs to know that except maybe the ice suite attendants and the people who buy the shoes if they do, in fact, furnish them.”
“I need to know.”
“No, you don’t, unless you are thinking of becoming an ice suite attendant. And I don’t think your busted lip is a career-ending injury.”
“I want to surprise Merry with a pair of skates and I need to know her shoe size.”
“Is that right? Does Merry skate?”
“No. She can’t. I’m going to teach her.” He’d get the ice after hours at the practice rink. Just the two of them. He couldn’t wait.
“Yeah? Does she want to learn to skate?” Packi asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t she?” He skated. She would want to be able to skate with him.
“Does she have time? You said she works two jobs and goes to law school.”
“It won’t take much time. And it’ll be fun.”
Packi looked at him for a long moment. “You’re sure about this?”
“Come on, Packi, it’s not like a pair of skates is an engagement ring.” But if there was an engagement ring in their future, that would mean a marriage, which would lead to children. They would all need to be able to skate together.
He nodded. “All right then. I’ll find out her shoe size.”
“You’re the best,” Jarrett said.
“Get your mind off romance and on hockey. Puck drop is coming sooner than romance.”
Chapter Fourteen
To Merry, condo meant the place that she stayed when the Beaver Crossing Baptist Church youth group went to Orange Beach—basically, a big apartment in a twelve-story building with—if you were lucky—a little balcony that overlooked the ocean. The boys had one, the girls had another, and everyone slept wall to wall.
Amy Giroux did not live in a glorified apartment. It was a mansion in the sky—even if the décor was a little busy. Living room, dining room, media room, library, office, kitchen, breakfast room, and seven bedrooms—one of which was set aside for Gabriella’s use, though she didn’t live there. It was in Gabriella’s room where they all stood now.
This was how the other half lived—though Amy and Emile wouldn’t be living here much longer. Amy had said the new house—the one across from Merry—was almost ready.
“What’s this party going to be like?” Merry asked. This was her chance, because clearly Jarrett didn’t know, didn’t care, or wasn’t telling.
“In what way?” Amy asked.
“Every way. For all I know, it could be a twelve course sit-down dinner with the King of Siam or a potluck with a contest for the best use of cream of mushroom soup.”
Amy and Gabriella looked at each other wide-eyed for a moment and then burst into gales of laughter.
“You’re funny,” Amy said. “But it remains to be seen what kind of party it will be. Thor has never had a party before.”
“And I doubt if he wants to have this one,” Gabriella said.
“Then why is he having it?” Merry asked.
“Misguided and worn down,” Gabriella said. “Thor was engaged a couple of years back. She was a real piece of work. She talked him into buying this mansion on the outskirts of Sound Town near where the Davenports live and then took off with a soccer player and the ring Thor had bought her. I’ve never been inside, but Emile says it’s the most magnificent thing you’ve ever seen, which probably means there’s a lot of fake marble statues, mirrors, acrylic furniture, and fountains with fish spitting water.”
Startled, Merry looked at Amy for her reaction. “It’s true. I thought it was bad enough that he’d decorated the condo by pointing to Pottery Barn pages, but he wanted to do our bedroom at the new house in purple velvet and silver lamé.”
“Anyway,” Gabriella went on, “despite what the décor may or may not look like, Thor’s house is worth millions. Sharon Orlov has been trying to sell it for over a year and can’t get a nibble. She has encouraged him to have a party and invite a lot of people who might get the word out, which he has been unwilling to do.
“Enter Jake Champagne and Robbie McTavish.” Gabriella hesitated. “That’s where the wearing down came in. Do you know them? Robbie was the one at the wedding wearing a kilt.”
“I remember seeing him. It seems he and his friend drank a lot of beer.”
“That would have been them,” Amy said. “They’re sweet but wild as bucks. They will try to kiss you on the mouth. They apparently talked Thor into having a New Year’s Eve party two days ago. The irony is, Sharon says this isn’t going to do any good toward selling the house. Nobody is invited except the team, and none of them want his house. Even if they did, there’s the threat of the team moving hanging over their heads. The guys don’t know any more than we do, but to be fair, they are on the road.”
“But if I know Thor, he’s got it handled,” Gabriella said. “I did get out of Bryant the caterer he’s using—though how Thor got one at this late date, I don’t know. But I know a pastry chef who used to work with him, so I called him and he told me the menu. Thor’s gone all out and it’s a mix of elegant and casual—things like pork loin with pancetta, baby lamb chops, sushi, and then there’s ribs, wings, and pizza. And there’s going to be breakfast buffet set up after midnight.”
“We�
�ll eat well,” Amy said.
“If this party was only decided on two days ago, didn’t people already have plans?” Merry asked.
“Most did,” Gabriella said, “but when a teammate calls, the team goes running. That’s the hockey life.”
The hockey life was what made them bring her here tonight—not for her, but for Jarrett. And she was all right with that.
“But about the clothes, I’ve had a thought.” Gabriella placed a hand on her hip. The walk-in closet door was open and there were clothes thrown over chairs, on the bed, and hanging on the back of the door. “I’ve pulled a few things—really too much, but I did it before I had my thought.”
Apparently the other half had a different definition of few, too.
“We’re going to wear jeans.” Gabriella smiled like she was as pleased with herself as a person could be. “That’s for the ribs and pizza. And we’re going to wear glitzy tops.” She plucked a black sequined evening tunic off the bed. No Spanx, no tall shoes. We’ll be comfortable, but have a little New Year’s glamour, too.”
Amy clapped her hands together. “I love it. You’re so much taller than we are. I wondered how that was going to work for Merry and me. But we can wear our own jeans.”
“The rattiest ones we have,” Gabriella said. “The contrast will be dazzling.”
They had done this for her, Merry realized, so that she wouldn’t feel like she had borrowed everything she wore. Maybe Amy was in on it, or maybe not, but she went along. Maybe they had offered to help her for Jarrett’s sake, but this play was because they were kind.
“I have this for you, Amy.” Gabriella held up a sapphire blue sequined jacket with jeweled crystal buttons. “You can leave it open and wear your pearl gray lace camisole with it.”
Amy laughed. “It wouldn’t have buttoned anyway.”
“And, Merry, what do you think of this? It’s vintage beaded silk.” Gabriella held up an emerald green tunic with a whisper of a ruffle round the bottom. “I fell in love with it because it is so beautiful, but I have never been able to make it work for me. It’s perfect with your hair and eyes.”
High Stick Page 16
