Seraphina flipped the page where a list of the player names and the salary they would receiving for this season. She paused and grabbed last season’s book, wanting to make comparisons between the two years. Maybe that would give her something to go on.
Each salary was similar in comparison to the previous year. Some received the exact same dollar amount, while others had they salary broken into multiple years. For example, Kyle Underwood was signed for three years last season, receiving four million for those years. As such, he was paid a set amount each year that added up to four million. Nobody received an excessive raise or an excessive. Everything seemed pretty solid.
And then she got to Thorpe’s name.
The salary was the same from the previous season, but next to the number, in the margins of the page, was Papa’s familiar handwriting. Worth it? Bench him?
Wait a minute…
Was Papa even planning on trading him in the first place? It sounded like he was thinking about not trading Thorpe, but maintaining his current salary and benching him. Like a compromise. As though to tell Thorpe that Papa didn’t want to trade him but he also wasn’t going to pay a larger sum to Thorpe. Instead, he wanted to keep Thorpe and his salary, but bench him for some games rather than have him play for the majority of the season.
Which, to Seraphina, revealed just how much her grandfather must have wanted to keep Thorpe. While Papa was willing to compromise, this particular deal he seemed to want to make with Thorpe was more than what Papa usually sacrificed for other people.
So why did everyone think he wanted to sell Thorpe? If Papa was still making that decision or trying to work out a compromise, he had yet to announce anything. And one thing she was absolutely certain about was that Papa would have said something, whether it was to her, to Katella, to Henry, to Simon, or to the media. But he said nothing. Which meant he hadn’t made a decision. And yet, people thought that he was intent on selling the goaltender.
Seraphina would need to know why that was. Perhaps she should talk to Henry or Simon. Maybe Papa did go to them, or one of them, to talk about Thorpe. They might know better about what he should do over her; she was just an ignorant young granddaughter while Henry was the Gulls’ head coach and Simon was the financial director.
But that wouldn’t explain the words he wrote.
Unless he had made a decision and just forgot to erase the pencil marks out.
That also made sense.
Seraphina continued to look through the current financial book, hoping to find any more hints about what he was thinking. But besides notes about where the money was going, ideas about events, notes about the players themselves such as Alec – FAMILY, something Seraphina assumed was important to Alec Schumacher but otherwise had no idea about the purpose of these little notes, there was nothing. Nothing about selling the team or trading Thorpe.
If anything, the notes and the plans Papa made proved that he wasn’t going to sell the team. Why would Papa plan everything out, salaries, events, new ideas for merchandise, if he was just going to turn around and sell the team? It didn’t make any sense.
Then again, these technically weren‘t the official books.
“Oh yeah,” she murmured, an epiphany lighting a bulb over her head.
Simon Spade had the official books. Perhaps Papa was planning on selling the team and-or trading Thorpe but just hadn’t transferred the numbers to his own books. She knew these books were for his notes rather than official statements, and Papa was notorious for getting too busy to update his own notes. Normally he did so when he had time. This summer had been a whirlwind, Seraphina remembered. He probably didn’t have the time to update his books.
Something waffled in her mind, like a leaking faucet dripped one drop at a time in the same spot over and over again. It told her that she was on to something, but she just didn’t know what that was. Maybe if she could get her hands on those books…
She grabbed her nearby cell phone and quickly dialed Simon’s number. Thankfully, he answered on the third ring.
“Mr. Spade?” Seraphina began. “It’s Seraphina Hanson, Ken’s granddaughter.”
“Oh yes, hello,” he said in a friendly tone. “Please, call me Simon. How are doing?”
“I’m getting by, thank you,” Seraphina said. Before he could comment on her response, she pushed ahead, not wanting to dwell on how she was feeling because talking about it never made her feel any better. “I was hoping to set up an appointment with you, if possible, actually. I wanted to compare my grandfather’s financial book for this season with the one you have just to get a better idea of what he planned to do with the team.”
“Oh, of course, of course,” he said. “What a great idea. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it. Yes, absolutely. Can we do Friday at one o’clock in the afternoon?”
“Yes, that works. Would you like me to meet you anywhere?”
“Oh no, no, no. I’ll drop off the books for you at your office at Sea Side.”
“Perfect, thank you very much.”
When she got off the phone, Seraphina felt much better than she had before she made the call. Once she got Simon’s books, surely there would be answers. Or, at least, more answers than what she had now.
She leaned back in her chair, hoping to give her mind a little peace before resuming her work. Instead of trying to figure out what her grandfather wanted, she decided to try and learn more about the game and more about the players. When she reached out to grab Hockey for Dummies, the sight of her grandfather’s planner stopped her.
How could she not have thought about this before? Perhaps Papa would write his thoughts in his planner since he didn’t keep a journal. She grabbed the planner and relaxed in her chair, pulling her knees up and resting the book on her thighs. Instead of focusing on the dates, she decided she’d rather flip through the pages, looking for notes. But after a quick search, she was left empty-handed once again. There were no side notes or anything, just appointments.
Okay… Well, might as well start with the obvious. She flipped back to August 22, a Sunday. The day of her grandfather’s death.
Interestingly enough, there was an appointment marked there… with Brandon Thorpe at six o’clock that evening. Seraphina had found him just before seven thirty. She wasn’t surprised that her meeting with Papa wasn’t marked; it was something between the two of them, informal, casual. Most of the time, it was last minute, impromptu sort of thing. But it did surprise her that it was likely the last person to see her grandfather alive – besides, of course, his killer – was Brandon Thorpe.
Why didn’t he mention that to her?
Had the police found this out? Surely they must have because they returned his planner to her. Had they questioned him? Seraphina didn’t know; she doubted it. He was still at every practice and Henry hadn’t mentioned anything. But if Brandon Thorpe hadn’t told her about this meeting, he might not be so forthcoming about being questioned by the police.
Did knowing this cause her feelings for Brandon to change? Did she still believe so adamantly that he didn’t do it?
Yes… ?
She should probably call him and ask him about it directly. Like, now, so she wouldn’t have to think too much about it.
Flipping open her phone, she dialed the number next to Thorpe’s name in Papa’s book. With every ring, Seraphina’s heart pounded harder and harder.
“Hello?”
“Um, Mr. Thorpe? It’s Seraphina Hanson.” He did remember who she was, right?
“Oh, yeah. Is everything okay?” His voice was cool, calm, revealing absolutely nothing.
“Yeah, I just had a couple of questions, if you don’t mind,” she said. “I’m looking at my grandfather’s planner and it says that he scheduled a meeting with you at six the twenty-second of August.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the day her grandfather died; it felt too accusatory, too rude, and too soon. “It doesn’t actually say what that meeting was for though, and I was just wondering if maybe
you could tell me.”
“Um…” He let his voice trailed off, and Seraphina felt herself hold her breath. She had no idea why she was nervous; she had every right to ask him about this. “Listen, I’m actually heading to dinner right now. Could you meet me? We can talk about everything there.”
“Oh.” Well, that threw her off. She blinked once, twice. “Yeah. Where?”
“Jack’s Burgers. It’s a small Mom-and-Pop burger joint.”
“I know it.”
When she got off the phone, Seraphina dashed up to her bathroom in order to shower. She threw on jeans and a t-shirt, ran a brush through her hair before grabbing her keys and heading out the door.
She knew the place Brandon was talking about. When she was younger, her grandfather would take her and her sister down there Saturday afternoons. It had two televisions and enough space for no more than forty people. Waitresses came and went – usually high school girls who needed money – but the owners knew Seraphina and her family by name. In fact, Jack Dawson, the owner, actually called the sisters personally in order to offer his condolences. Seraphina was actually surprised that the guy asking for more money knew about a small dive like Jack’s Burgers.
It wasn’t long before she arrived. The place was nearly empty, save for a couple of regulars sitting at the bar. Brandon was already there, off to the corner of the room, as far away from the inhabitants as possible. When she reached him, she took a seat at the table across from him.
“To answer your question,” Brandon began, diving in directly instead of beginning with expected small talk, “the reason we were meeting was to talk about my contract.”
The waitress interrupted the two of them, asking for their order. Brandon ordered a cheeseburger and a side of fries with Coke. Seraphina ordered the same thing, except she substituted the Coke with an ice water.
“Water?” he asked her with furrowed brows. It was the first time he inquired about something personal, except when he asked if she was okay after her uncle’s surprising departure. “Isn’t that a little… boring?”
Seraphina was so shocked at his question that she couldn’t help but laugh as she asked, “Excuse me?” Shaking her head, she answered, “I’ve never, in my life, liked carbonation. Water’s my favorite drink.”
Brandon pushed his brows up but said nothing.
“Obviously it’s not boring if you had to comment on it,” she pointed out.
His lips twitched up. “Touché,” he agreed.
The waitress came back with their drinks before rushing off to take more orders.
“So you called the meeting with my grandfather to talk about your contract, or did he call it?” Seraphina asked.
“I did,” Brandon said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “He had yet to make a decision with me about my new asking price, but the papers were already reporting that he was planning to reject my offer and trade me. I wanted a direct answer for him.”
“Wait a second,” Seraphina said. “You mean he never mentioned trading to you at all before the press found out about it?”
“No.” He shook his head. “That was the weird thing. I’ve known your grandfather for two years and he didn’t like the press in general. I really didn’t think he would leak something like this to them without talking to me about it.”
“I don’t think he did.” The words were out of her mouth before Seraphina could stop them. She blushed at her mistake, her careless mouth, but she continued on. “What did you guys end up discussing during your meeting?”
“Nothing,” he replied, his pale green eyes appearing to be more bold in color the more his discussed this with Seraphina. “His door was closed, and when I knocked, there was no response. I thought Ken might have forgotten about our meeting, but when I called him, I also got no response. I was kind of pissed. I thought that maybe he was blowing me off or trying to teach me one of those lessons he always preached about, so I left.”
“You didn’t open the door?”
“No. I feel weird about that. I’ve had some bad experience walking in on things I’d rather not see, even if I do knock prior. So if there’s no response, I don’t push it. I try to respect peoples’ privacy.”
At that moment, the food arrived. Midway through a rather big bite of cheeseburger, Seraphina’s phone went off.
“Excuse me,” she said, her mouth full of food. She stood up and chewed as quickly as she could, swallowing, before she said, “Hello?”
“Miss Hanson, it’s Detective Williams,” came the other voice. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“No, no, what’s on your mind?” Seraphina asked, wondering just what Williams wanted. Was he finally going to tell her that her uncle Alan was the prime suspect in her grandfather’s marriage?
“Yeah,” he said in a voice that sounded as though he didn’t quite believe her. Well, it wasn’t as though what Seraphina was doing something wrong, right? “Well, if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to swing by your place tomorrow and talk to you and your sister. The autopsy report just came in, and it’s pretty obvious that we have some stuff to discuss.”
“It is,” Seraphina said a bit harsher than she intended.
She headed back to the table and apologized before popping a fry into her mouth.
“I hate to do this,” Brandon said, and from the look on his face, Seraphina thought that he seemed… uncomfortable. “But I want to point out that technically, I haven’t yet resigned with the team.”
Seraphina gave him a dry look. “I know,” she said. “Let’s just keep our agreement, okay? I pay for each game, and once this entire thing is over, we’ll talk about it.” She pursed her lips. For whatever reason, she suddenly felt annoyed. Maybe it was Brandon, even though he looked pretty cute in black slacks and a white t-shirt. Maybe it was Williams, and the fact that he seemed to be keeping her and Katella out of the dark and all she wanted was to know what happened to her grandfather and be done with all this… pain. Maybe it was both. Maybe she was stressed. Maybe she was in over her head. She needed to get out of here. She needed to be alone. “I have to go.” With that, she put a twenty on the table and headed out the door, shoving her hands in her pockets, without looking back.
The cool air pinched her cheeks but it had a soothing effect on her. Her shoulders loosened. Her heart did too. She slid into her car, ready to go home and go to bed.
It was probably Jack’s Burgers.
She really missed her grandfather.
17. Okay. She could do this. She had been on plenty of dates before. This one was no different.
Except that it was.
Emma was going on a date with Kyle Underwood, right wing in the first line of the Newport Beach Seagulls hockey team. She was going on a date with a hockey player.
Currently, she sat in her car, in the parking lot of the trendy sushi restaurant The Canary. The lot itself was relatively full, but it was nothing compared to the weekend. For whatever reason, Emma couldn’t exactly get up and head in the restaurant just yet. She needed to get a hold of her nerves. She needed to relax.
Though the engine was off, the radio was on and Taylor Swift came through the speakers, singing about being fearless during a first date. It was upbeat and fun, but it didn’t get the tension in her muscles to relax like it normally would have.
She reached up and pulled her vanity mirror down so she could inspect her makeup. As usual, it was light but she decided that maybe she should put more effort into it in order to show Kyle that tonight was actually special to her. Not that she assumed he noticed the makeup she wore on a day-to-day basis or that she believed tonight was more than just a casual date between two people who seem interested in each other.
Shaking her head, she flipped the mirror closed and glanced down at her attire. It had taken an hour to choose an outfit she was comfortable with which was ridiculous because the only time Emma actually cared about what she wore was when she was on stage. Even so, she went through at least
half a dozen options before finally settling on dark skinny jeans and a relatively loose white, three-quarter sleeved shirt with thick, navy blue nautical-style stripes running across it. On her feet were black high heels with red bows, and her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, her bangs bobby-pinned and hair sprayed in the shape of a small, fashionable bump. Her multiple fly aways actually added to the look, framing her face, softening it.
She never used hairspray. It made her hair crunchy and it smelled horrible and yet there it was, holding her hair together.
She stopped herself before she started to think about why she was making such an effort.
“You’re being ridiculous,” she told herself as the song changed. “This whole thing is ridiculous. You need to calm down. Breathe.” Emma pushed her shoulders back and took her own advice, breathing in through her nose and out with her mouth three times. “There. Now just remember, Kyle Underwood is a twenty-five year old guy who happens to play hockey for a national team. There’s nothing special about him; he’s just another guy. You have no idea where this is going, if it goes anywhere. One step at a time, Winsor. This is one date. You’re not planning a wedding, are you?”
Emma started laughing at her last question. The thought of her getting married to anyone, let alone Kyle Underwood, was amusing since she had absolutely no plans to ever tie the knot. Yeah right.
“In retrospect, there’s no reason to get nervous about it because it’s probably going to go nowhere,” she continued. “Kyle Underwood is a pretty good looking hockey player. You think he wants to settle down now? And you for sure don’t want to settle down, Winsor. Stop with the butterflies and get your ass out there.”
Giving herself a nod of encouragement, Emma turned off the car completely and grabbed her keys. She could do this. If she could choreograph an entire dance routine in ten days after Crystal had a mental breakdown and couldn’t pull it together, Emma could go through one date with a hockey player. She wouldn’t even break a sweat.
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