by Jen Gilroy
“Amy has a lot of questions about women’s hockey. If it’s okay with you, I thought we could talk over dinner at the Pink Pagoda.” He rested one arm on the gate to the ice, so close she caught the musky scent of his aftershave mixed with the cool smell of the ice. “I haven’t been there since high school, and Amy says you love Chinese food.”
Back in high school, the Pink Pagoda, a little restaurant two blocks down Main from the gallery, was where the popular kids went on dates. In the small world of Firefly Lake, it was exotic, foreign, and, as far as Cat was concerned, it might as well have been in China for any chance she’d had of going there with a boy.
“I… uh…”
Amy appeared behind Luc. “Please, Mom?”
“I made meatloaf earlier, honey.” Even as she said the words, she could almost taste the steamed pork buns the Pink Pagoda was famed for and smell the delicate jasmine tea—scents that wafted out onto the street year-round to entice customers in. Her mouth watered.
“You can freeze the meatloaf, can’t you?” Her daughter’s voice was pleading. “We hardly ever eat out. I’m the only kid in my class who hasn’t been to the Pink Pagoda.”
Restaurant meals were a luxury Cat couldn’t often afford. Her stomach lurched.
“My treat.” Luc’s voice was smooth. “Maybe your mom and Ward would like to join us.”
“Grandma and Ward are going out for a meal and to a movie tonight. They have a date.” Amy’s smile had the dimple at the corner that Cat could never resist.
Cat’s stomach lurched again. “I don’t…”
“If you two don’t join me, I’ll have to eat all alone in an empty house.” Luc’s tone teased her. “Besides, I bet I ate half of that tourtière you made at New Year’s. I owe you.”
“No, you don’t.” Owing people led to trouble. She stuffed her hands in her coat pockets, all the while conscious of the hockey moms’ covert looks.
“Maybe not, but your daughter’s pretty persuasive.” His mouth twisted into a toe-curling grin that, in its own way, was just as irresistible as Amy’s.
Cat glanced at her daughter again. Amy’s face was the picture of innocence, but there was a look in her eyes that Cat didn’t trust. That persuasiveness came with an agenda. Although Cat didn’t know what it was yet, she intended to find out. Starting with dinner at the Pink Pagoda.
“My fortune cookie says that if I follow my heart, good luck will come my way.” At the top of the stairs leading to the apartment above the gallery, Amy thrust the tiny piece of paper at Luc. “Do you think that’s true?” Her sweet blue gaze was fixed on him.
“You can’t go wrong if you follow your heart.” His gaze swung to Cat, who unlocked the door. Slim jeans outlined the curve of her butt, and her hair was fluffed out over her coat collar. His chest tingled. He swallowed and took a step back on the small landing. “As for good luck, sure, you never know what’s around the corner.” Even though it might be something that would knock you flat and turn your life upside down, Amy wasn’t him. She was only twelve and had her whole life ahead of her.
“Excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.” Cat opened the apartment door and flicked on a light.
“If it’s a problem, I can—”
“Of course it’s not a problem. Mom’s a neat freak, that’s all. She thinks the place is a mess if a few cushions are out of place.” Amy grabbed his hand and tugged him into the entryway. “You have to see my trophies and hockey card collection.”
Luc ducked his head by instinct, but the apartment had high ceilings and was more spacious than he’d expected. Given that Cat and Amy had only moved in after Christmas, it was also more homelike with a few plants, pillows in pastel colors on the dark blue sofa and two chairs, and a mix of family photos and vintage prints displayed on small tables and hung along the neutral-colored walls.
He slipped off his boots and handed his parka to Amy, who put it on a coat stand. “Your place is nice.”
And it was a whole lot more comfortable than his bedroom at Harbor House which, apart from his bed, dresser, and treadmill, was four bare gray walls with a stack of boxes he hadn’t bothered to unpack piled in a corner. Like his life, the room was on hold.
“Thanks.” Cat hung her coat on the stand, too. “I inherited some things from Mom’s family and picked up other pieces at auctions and flea markets. Each one comes with a memory.” Her laugh was light, almost embarrassed.
“It’s cozy.” He’d gotten rid of most of the furniture he and Maggie had shared because the memories were too painful. He didn’t want to see the kitchen table where she’d drunk her morning coffee. Or picture her on the leather sofa, curled into his side to watch a hockey game. Except, even without the furniture, the memories were still there, and his new house would be a place to live, not a home. His chest got that familiar tight heaviness.
“Mom’s great at fixing old stuff up. She says it’s good for the environment and saves money, too.” Amy gestured him into the combined living and dining room. Two tabby cats, like a pair of bookends, poked their heads out from under one of the chairs.
“Amy…” Cat gave her daughter a warning look.
“What? You say that all the time.” Amy hopped in her sock feet in front of him. “These are our cats, Darcy and Bingley. They’re real old, at least for cats. Almost as old as me. Mom rescued them when they were little kittens. They’re super friendly. Here, pet him.” Amy scooped up a bundle of mottled brown fur and thrust it into Luc’s arms.
He grabbed the cat’s hind legs and tucked the animal into his chest. Darcy or Bingley, he had no idea.
“You like cats, don’t you?” Amy’s eyes were all of a sudden serious.
“Sure. I’ve never had a cat, but they’re okay.” And after an unexpectedly intimate dinner at the Pink Pagoda, he couldn’t deny it any longer. He also had a crazy thing for a woman whose nickname was Cat.
“Great.” Amy gave him a big smile, like he’d passed some invisible test. “What about cooking? Do you know how to cook?”
“What’s with all the questions?” Cat came into the living room. She’d taken off the bulky sweater she’d worn at dinner, and her blue T-shirt cupped small but perfectly proportioned breasts. “Why does it matter if Coach Luc likes cats or cooks?”
“I’m curious. You say curiosity is good.” Amy’s sober expression was at odds with the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
“Not when it involves asking people personal questions.” Cat turned to Luc. “You don’t have to answer her.”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t like Amy had asked him anything really personal or important. “I’m an okay cook because my mom said no son of hers would grow up not knowing how to fend for himself in the kitchen.”
“That’s good.” Amy eyed the purring ball of fluff in Luc’s arms. “Bingley really likes you. He sleeps on Mom’s bed. Would you have a problem if a cat slept on your bed?”
“Amy.” Cat’s voice was a strangled sound. “Go get your hockey trophies and card collection. That’s the reason Coach Luc’s here, remember?”
“Sure.” Amy looked at him. “Mom also has her old Care Bear on her bed. Do you want to see?”
“Amy Gabrielle McGuire.” Cat’s face flushed pink, and she took her daughter by the shoulders and walked her out of the room.
When Cat returned to the living room, her cheeks were no longer a soft pink but dark, tomato red. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The laugh Luc had tried to suppress escaped. “Bingley and Darcy?” He glanced from the cat still snuggled in his arms to the other one that had plunked itself near his feet.
“Pride and Prejudice is a literary masterpiece.” Her voice was strained, and she busied herself plumping the already plump sofa pillows.
“Don’t a lot of women think Mr. Darcy is some kind of sex symbol?” Luc set Bingley down and held his hands to his face in a vain effort to stop laughing. Cat was cute when she was embarrassed, as we
ll as dangerously sweet and appealing.
“So?” Her tone was prim. “Amy?” Her daughter’s name came out in a bellow.
Luc jumped. For a small woman with a soft voice, she could sure project it when she wanted to.
“What?” Amy appeared in the living room doorway with a cardboard box.
“If you want to show Coach Luc your trophies and cards, you need to get a move on. It’ll be bedtime soon.” Cat refolded a pink knitted throw with jerky motions.
“It’s only seven.” Amy set the box on the coffee table in front of the sofa and pointed at a brass clock on an end table. “I don’t have to go to bed for a whole two and a half hours yet. Coach Luc can stay for ages.” She looked between him and Cat. “After I show you my hockey stuff, do you want to play Clue? It’s Mom’s favorite game because she likes solving mysteries.”
Luc sat on the sofa with a bump, and the cats followed him. “Clue’s a great game. I used to play it with my sisters.”
“Mom?” Amy sat on one side of Luc and motioned Cat to his other side.
“I… Amy…” Cat’s voice was strained.
“Clue’s way more fun with an extra player.” Amy pulled the game box from a shelf beside the sofa. “Mom likes to win,” she added to Luc, “but she feels bad if she beats me.”
Luc blew out a breath and then clamped his lips together to hide a smile. Amy wasn’t exactly subtle, but he couldn’t be mad at her. He swallowed a laugh and turned to the two cats who looked up at him with identical amber eyes. He was trapped by a pint-sized matchmaker and a pair of arthritic fur balls. He should make his excuses right now and leave. Except, he didn’t want to. His blood thundered in his ears as the truth zapped him with laser-like intensity.
When he lost Maggie and then hockey, he’d lost the two most important things in his life. Although his family and friends had tried to understand, they couldn’t, not really. He’d pasted on a smile and gone through the motions of life on autopilot, while the months had turned into one year and then two. Until now.
In this snug apartment with its soft lighting, happy colors, purring cats, and a faint, tangy rose smell that was unique to this woman, he’d found something special. It was something he’d once have grasped with both hands and held onto tight, but he wasn’t the man he’d been back then. He couldn’t be that man again because life and tragedy had changed him. Even if he’d still had a whole heart to give, he couldn’t let himself risk giving it to anyone again.
Chapter Ten
It was a routine Wednesday morning, but Cat had made an extraordinary find. She took off the gloves she’d worn to handle the fragile documents and rubbed the kinks in the back of her neck. The inn’s archive had a treasure trove of material for the kind of popular history book she longed to write. Unlike the book based on her dissertation, or the academic articles she’d proposed in her application for the research grant, it would be a book that her family and people in town would be able to read and enjoy. A story of Firefly Lake.
Her heart beat faster before the excitement faded. If she didn’t get a permanent job soon, she’d be back teaching from contract to contract, and any research, let alone the kind she enjoyed most, would have to wait.
She stared out the window at the silvery icicles that hung like teardrops from the wooden eaves. The small archive was tucked into a room high up under the roof in what had once been the quarters for the inn’s maids. From here, she had a bird’s-eye view of the white-tipped pine trees that girdled the snow-covered shores of the lake. The sky was a robin’s-egg blue, and in front of the inn, sunlight flashed against the blades of the lone skater who made loopy figure eights on the cleared ice surface. The same place where she’d temporarily taken leave of her senses and kissed Luc in full view of the inn staff, guests, and anybody from town who might have been passing by. And since that earth-shattering kiss, she hadn’t been able to think of much else.
“Cat?”
She jerked upright and almost fell off her chair. Did she only have to think about Luc to conjure him up? “What are you doing here?” The words came out in a rush with a prickly edge she hadn’t intended.
“I had a meeting with the chef and her team.” He ambled farther into the room, Vermont business casual in black dress pants and a blue button-down shirt the same color as his eyes. He filled the small space like he’d filled her apartment that night after dinner at the Pink Pagoda. Although he’d only stayed for an hour, the crisp scent of his aftershave had lingered and tempted her more than she wanted to admit. “The inn is Simard’s biggest customer in town, so I have to find out what they what.”
His words tumbled into Cat’s heart and lodged there like a thorny truth she also didn’t want to admit. She wanted this man, but she couldn’t have him.
He glanced at the photos and papers she’d spread out on the long table. “I bumped into Georgia in the lobby. She said you were up here.”
“I’m working.” She made her tone cool. She was a busy, professional woman, and a serious scholar doing work people were paying her for.
Luc dragged the only other chair in the room around the table to sit beside her. “I need to get to work too, but if you can take a break for a few minutes, I’d like to see those hockey pictures you talked about before I head back to the creamery.”
“Okay.” She sucked in a breath. It would only be for a few minutes. As soon as she showed him the photos, he’d be on his way. She reached for a box at the far end of the table, brushed his forearm, and reared back. “Here.” She handed him a bigger pair of gloves. “No fingerprints on the pictures.” She wouldn’t let herself think about how her skin had sizzled from that brief touch, only his thin shirt and her sweater between them, instead of the barrier of winter clothing.
He flexed his hands as he pulled the gloves on and gave her a teasing smile. “Fingerprints would be bad.”
“Very.” Her mouth went tinder dry.
She put her gloves back on and fumbled to open the box. “I put all the hockey pictures in here. They’re not organized yet.”
“These are fantastic.” Luc’s voice was a mix of reverence and excitement. Exactly how Cat felt when she looked at a hidden stash of old photos or letters for the first time, like they held a puzzle or mystery she was on the cusp of solving. “It’s amazing some of these guys didn’t get killed. See?” He gestured to the top photo. “This group isn’t wearing helmets or protective gear. If you got a puck to your head or neck dressed like this, it’d be game over.”
Cat studied the picture and, inside the gloves, her palms went damp. It wasn’t only the heat radiating off him, it was his scent, too. The familiar aftershave mixed with a compelling masculinity.
“That team’s the Firefly Lake Flyers.” She made herself focus on facts instead of on the bubbling volcano of sensations erupting inside her. “They won a New England championship in the nineteen twenties. There was a women’s team too, the Lady Flyers.” She dug in the box for more photos. “These were taken around nineteen seventeen. Can you imagine how the women played in those long skirts?”
“No, I can’t.” Luc’s eyes shone with the same enthusiasm she suspected was mirrored in hers. “The women I invited to do demos at the carnival have to see these.” He leaned closer, and Cat bit back a breathy sigh. “They’re all Olympic medalists and now they’re involved in girls’ hockey camps. I can’t wait for them to meet Amy. Those camps offer scholarships and, if you give the go-ahead, I want to recommend Amy for one.”
Cat’s body cooled and, all of a sudden, she had no problem focusing on facts and the harsh reality that went along with them. “Wouldn’t any scholarship take into account school grades?”
Luc set the photo aside. “I don’t know for sure.”
“To play hockey on the team in Boston, Amy had to meet a certain academic standard. She wasn’t meeting it. I tried to help her, but it wasn’t enough.” Cat swallowed the fear at the back of her throat. “If we’d stayed there, she’d likely have been off the team
by now. If she hears about a hockey camp or a scholarship application… she’ll get her hopes up… and I can’t… it would break her heart if she couldn’t go because of her schoolwork.” Cat would be heartbroken too because if she couldn’t pay for extra tutoring, she sure couldn’t pay for hockey camp fees.
“I see.” He tented his hands on the desk, the strong fingers dusted with light brown hair.
Except, despite the concern in his eyes, he couldn’t see, not really. He couldn’t see Amy’s frustration when the learning that came easily to other kids was so hard for her. He couldn’t see Cat’s frustration either as she’d battled to get Amy the help she needed, and her ever-present sense of failure because the best help cost more money than she earned. And she had no way of telling Luc or anyone else how much she worried about making sure her daughter got the bright future she deserved.
She laced her fingers together and tried to steady her breathing. “If there’s an academic requirement…” Her throat clogged.
Luc’s brow furrowed. “Amy wouldn’t meet it.”
Cat twisted her hands tighter. “No, at least not right now, even though so far she’s doing better at school here.” For Amy’s sake, Cat should stay in Firefly Lake for the next few years, but she needed a job and it wasn’t like one was going to pop up either here or within commuting distance.
“I’ll find out more about those scholarships.” Luc’s voice had an encouraging tone that would have given Cat hope if she could only let herself believe in hope again. “In the meantime, why don’t you talk to Scott? He’s not her homeroom teacher, but he got drafted in to teach sixth grade math this year.”
“I already did. Although Amy’s doing better in math than most other subjects, she’s so far behind she’ll still be doing well to pass her year.”
Scott had told her the truth and had promised to help Amy all he could, but would it be enough? An icy trickle of dread slithered up Cat’s spine. If her daughter wasn’t promoted to seventh grade, what would that do to her already fragile confidence?