Fresh Ice Page 2

  ***

  After the show, Quinn headed upstairs and tapped lightly on Serena Shipley Chapman’s office door. He closed his eyes and silently prayed that she wouldn’t hear his knock, wouldn’t be in the office, or wouldn’t want to see him. Then he would go home where he would have a quiet day, alone to recoup from the weekend.

  He could never be that lucky.

  “Come in, Quinn.”

  Hand on the doorknob, Quinn paused to gather himself. Serena Shipley Chapman was a formidable woman. Everyone at the station feared her. Quinn Murray feared her as well, but for far different reasons than everyone else. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t fear losing his job to one of her renowned temper tantrums. She could do something so much worse. “Hello, Serena.”

  “Sit down, Quinn.” Serena didn’t look up from the spreadsheets on her desk.

  Quinn sat in the stiff chair on the opposight side of the desk. Every time he saw Serena, one thing struck him: the woman was beautiful. Tall, fit, well-coifed dark auburn hair all fit together to make an attractive package. No one could accuse Serena Shipley Chapman of being warm, or friendly, but she had an undeniable magnetism.

  Call it the magnetism of power, the aura of complete control.

  “Quinn, how are you?” Serena folded the spreadsheet and sat back in her chair. “How was your vacation?”

  He had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from frowning. You know very well it wasn’t a vacation. “Just fine.”

  “Successful, I assume?”

  Quinn clenched his teeth before answering. “Well, the Admirals stand a good chance of winning the Calder Cup this year. I pointed out a couple of guys who could be nice additions to the Predators next year.”

  “You know full well I could not care less about hockey.” Serena shot him an icy stare. “What about your other business? Do you have something for me?”

  “No, I don’t.” Quinn hoped Serena didn’t press him for the money he’d been sent to get from Jason. That money he’d put into a hastily purchased sympathy card for Isabella Landry, along with every other form of cash he had in his wallet including, he realized later, a Tennessee Lottery ticket he’d bought the week before. “As you know, Jason is dead.”

  “Yes, I got your text.”

  “So it’s over now. There’s nothing else you can do to him. He’s dead.”

  “How can it be over? Do I have my dream back? Do I have a gold medal?” She pounded her perfectly manicured fist on her desk.

  Quinn took a step back and slouched a little. If I say one word, she might just go ahead and kill me.

  “You saw the casket, but did you see the body? Did you see his face?”

  “No I did not.” Quinn shook his head. “They cremated him.”

  “So you don’t know for sure that he’s dead?”

  “Serena, I don’t know what you think I’m hiding from you. I went to talk to him, like I always do. He had nothing left to give me. You’ve drained him dry. So I went back to my other job, you know, scouting for the Preds? Couple days later, I’m at the Bradley center, one of the guys on the Admirals says that the guy that rebuilt his classic ‘Vette died in an explosion at the shop. Apparently Jason did a lot of work for the Admirals, because the whole team went to pay their respects. It was easy for me to go along. There was a picture of him next to the urn.” Quinn called to mind the image of Jason’s widow. Izzy, they called her now. Almost twenty years since he’d seen her, and Isabella Landry was every bit as lovely as she had been the last time he’d seen her skate. I’m not sharing that with Serena either.

  “Was that little bitch there?”

  Quinn shrugged, assumed an air of nonchalance. “There was a group of women standing there, and every one of them was mourning. I didn’t go up and ask, ‘Which one of you wrecked Serena Shipley’s dreams?’ There wasn’t anyone there that seemed more broken up than the rest of them. Maybe they weren’t even married anymore. Nineteen years is a long time for any marriage.” He kept his eyes steady with hers; hoping Serena’s sharp senses didn’t detect his lie.

  “A little sloppy with this, aren’t you?” Serena frowned at him. “Have you forgotten, my dear Quinn, exactly what I did for you? What you owe me? Think again.”

  How could I forget what I owe you? It’s something you bring up every other day. “No,” his voice was chalky. “Of course I haven’t forgotten what I owe you. I was just thinking…Jason’s dead. If Isabella Landry did stay with him, she has nothing. And think of all the time we have, you and I, if I don’t have to run anymore of these errands.”

  The fury faded from her eyes and she sat back in her chair. “Always the charmer. Fine, I’ll do this your way for now. Let’s talk about more pleasant things. How did the show go today?”

  “Well, you know I always enjoy filling in.”

  “Yes, I do know that.”

  “I have some stuff I have to go do. You know, I’ve got that charity thing next month. And then I’m starting the plans for the big one I have in the early spring.”

  “Oh yes, Quinn Murray, the saint of a hockey player. The former bad boy loves to help the downtrodden.” Serena gave him a hint of a smile, her voice smooth with only the vaguest echo of a Minnesota accent, and not even a breath of a Tennessee accent, though she’d lived here nearly two decades. Her accent, or lack thereof, Quinn knew, was the result of years of vocal training.

  All part of a package. A very attractive, very lethal package.

  “Yeah, okay then.” He stood, attempting to put as much space between Serena and himself. “You know, you might want to come with me to the event. It might give the station some good publicity. The one in the spring is going to be huge. It would be great to get some official help from the station in return for major positive publicity. It’ll be for the Aubri Brown Club.”

  “Which charity is that? I can never keep all your good deeds straight.”

  “That’s the foundation that helps families who have lost children. Helps pay for counseling, funeral expenses, that sort of thing.”

  Serena took a deep breath in, as if trying to swallow something very bitter. She folded her hands on her desk and made direct eye contact with Quinn, the light in her green eyes ice cold. “I have no interest in helping you with that, Quinn.”

  Quinn couldn’t quite understand her reaction, but the look in her eyes unsettled him. “Okay.”

  She relaxed a little, the laser light softened in her eyes. “However, I’m not busy right now.”

  Her change of tone was all too familiar to Quinn.

  “Lock the door.”

  Quinn turned and faced the door as he locked it. He listened as she walked around her desk to stand behind him. She reached around his broad body, her red clawed hands pawing up and down until coming to rest just below his belt. Quinn closed his eyes, trying to fight his body’s inevitable response to her intimate touch. Unbidden, Isabella Landry’s innocent face floated through his mind, then vanished like a whisper, drowned out by the throbbing cry blackmail and duty.

  He had no other choice.

  THREE

  Izzy stared at the stack of cards between her and Jenna. I don’t want to open any of these. I can’t look at them.

  “Come on Mom, we have to go through these cards. It’s been almost two months, and Aunt Adele says we have to send thank you notes. I’ll write them. All you have to do is sign them.”

  Of course Adele demands a thank you note. Because above all, putting on a good show is the most important thing. In the weeks since Jason’s funeral, her relationship with Adele worsened. Adele rarely spoke to her directly, choosing instead to send text messages to Jenna, who then passed on the message to her. Once I live with her, will she still text Jenna, in Tennessee, while I’m sitting upstairs?

  “Okay, let’s open them.” Izzy picked up the first card and tore open the envelope. She didn’t read the sympathy poem on the front and the pastel picture made no impression. Opening the card to read the signature, a check fluttered t
o the table.

  “Mom, that’s money. They put a check in the card.”

  Izzy read the name on the check, vaguely recognizing it to be one of Jason’s customers. “I suppose people want to help out with the costs.” She glanced at the pile of cards with less apathy. Maybe I can fill the gas tank this week.

  “Mom, there are checks in all of these!” Jenna tore into the cards with abandon.

  I’m about to be homeless. This is a godsend. Izzy opened a few cards, mentally thanking every person who slipped a small sum of money in. I’ll be able to drive Jenna to Nashville.

  “Mom,” Jenna’s voice was low, stunned. “Look at this one.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a thousand dollars, and a lottery ticket.”

  “It’s what?” Izzy glanced up from her stack of cards.

  Jenna held up a fist full of bills. “I counted it. It’s a thousand bucks. And here,” she handed Izzy a small slip of paper, “it’s a lottery ticket.”

  “Weird. Who would put a lottery ticket into a sympathy card?”

  Jenna held up the card, opened. “It’s not signed. But the ticket is from Tennessee.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It says, ‘Tennessee Cash’ on it.”

  “Who would have put a Tennessee lottery ticket in a sympathy card?”

  “Maybe one of those hockey players? Some of them have spent some time in Nashville, right?”

  “Maybe. I don’t remember who was there.” Izzy closed her eyes and tried to picture the men from the Admirals. I should have paid closer attention to everyone who was there that day. The only person I really remember…

  The tall man, with the beautiful eyes, and the hint of Tennessee in his voice.

  Izzy took the ticket from Jenna’s hands and stared at it. The name of the store where it was purchased was vaguely familiar to her, a chain of gas stations in Nashville, and the address was a downtown location. “Well, this is dated almost three months ago. It says we have 180 days to claim a prize.”

  “So, you want to drive down to Nashville this weekend?”

  Izzy smiled. “No, that would be silly. Especially since it’s probably not a winning ticket. But, when we go to take you to Vanderbilt, maybe we’ll just go a few days earlier and see if it’s worth anything.”

  Jenna nodded and returned to opening cards. “Sounds like a plan, Mom.”

  Izzy set the ticket aside and continued opening cards. Every few moments she stared at the ticket. What a weird thing to put in a sympathy card.

  Especially one that’s so far from where I live. At least for now. The “for sale by foreclosure” sign was in the front yard, had been for more than a month. I really don’t want to live with Adele and Sean.

  I could move back to Nashville.

  Could I live there again after everything that’s happened?

  Izzy studied the ticket again. It’s almost as possible as this being a winning lottery ticket.

  ***

  Quinn drove the predawn streets of Nashville slowly. He loved this city, especially in late spring, before the weather got too hot. There was a vibrant life force in Music City he’d never found any other place. In his years as a professional hockey player, he’d lived in a lot of different places. Nashville was home.

  Nashville in the early morning hours reminded him of a woman he’d once known, one of the very many littering his memories. She glittered at night, neon and music and laughter. Then, with the cool touch of dawn, she settled down to the daily routine of wife, mother, and car pools.

  He’d been lucky, getting traded to the Predators after he couldn’t pass the physical in Toronto. He’d been lucky to build enough of a fan base in Nashville in a short time, and because of his popularity the team let him retire instead of cutting outright.

  Easing his car into the Waffle House parking lot, Quinn allowed himself a rueful smile. He couldn’t pass the physical for the same reason he got cut from the Blackhawks and the Maple Leafs. The luckier part was landing a job that kept him close to hockey.

  “WNSH, sports talk radio…” Quinn rattled off the call letters of the AM station where he worked as a color commentator covering the Predator home games mere weeks after his ignoble ouster from the league. They never sold a jersey with his name on it. He never stayed in one place long enough to make a positive enough impression.

  He slammed the car door shut and headed into the Waffle House. I really wish they’d sold jerseys with my name on them.

  Quinn checked his watch. His appearance at the charity game at Bridgestone Center wasn’t scheduled until two, but he knew if he got there early, the ice crew would let him skate a while before the event started. The stolen time he had on the ice was one of the few things he held sacred. Everything else in my life might be a weird dog and pony show, but skating, that’s still real.

  “Hey there, Quinn, honey!” Tina, the toothy waitress with the nicotine voice nodded to him. “Don’t ever expect to see you on a Saturday. Gonna be a nice day.”

  And everyone in Nashville is very, very sweet. The image of Serena flashed through his mind. “I’m in a hurry, this morning, Tina. Just a cup of coffee.”

  “Oh Sweetie, you’re breakin’ mah heart if you don’t at least have a little bit of breakfast.”

  Quinn glanced at the clock on the wall. “Okay Tina. Have Frank whip up some scrambled eggs with mushrooms.”

  “And grits?”

  “It’s not breakfast without grits, is it?”

  Tina flashed him a brilliant smile. “Well, it’s not a good breakfast, anyway.”

  Quinn watched Tina as she went about her business in the small restaurant. How simple is her life? Give folks a good breakfast and all is well. A good day’s work done for Miss Tina. No worries, no secrets.

  No Serena.

  Tina set the plate of eggs and creamy grits in front of him. “There ya go, Hun.” She gave him a wide grin. “Maybe this will put a smile back on your handsome face.”

  If only it were that simple.

  FOUR

  “Mom, can we talk?”

  Izzy smiled at Jenna. “We’ve got fourteen hours to Nashville, and Aunt Adele and Uncle Sean are, thanks to Mikayla’s massive amounts of luggage, about an hour behind us. We have a ton of time together. What’s on your mind?”

  “Are we homeless?”

  Izzy let out a nervous laugh. What the lawyers told her right after Jason’s death was all too true four months later: there was no money, the house was in foreclosure, and the insurance company was not going to pay her a dime on the two million dollar policy because the police were adamant Jason committed suicide. So, as they drove to Nashville to deposit Jenna and Mikayla at Vanderbilt for the coming school year, the house Izzy loved was being sold to the highest bidder at an auction.

  Her impending move to Adele’s house loomed like a heavy cloud. I should have finished college.

  I should have gone to college. After I got my GED, I should have taken classes. Then I could have gotten a good job and I could tell Adele where to shove it.

  Izzy inhaled and cleared her mind. “We are not homeless, not in the truest sense of the word. You will live at school and I will live with Aunt Adele. What else you want to ask me?”

  “Mom…” Jenna’s voice lowered as if they weren’t the only two people in the car. “Mom, did you love Dad?”

  Izzy was surprised Jenna hadn’t asked her much sooner. She never asked, and there was never a reason to tell her the truth. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Mikayla told me Aunt Adele said you didn’t. I thought it was a pretty shitty thing to say.”

  Adele, of course. Of course she would say something like that to her daughter. “Don’t say ‘shitty,’ Jenna. It’s low class. And yes, of course I loved your father.”

  “Well, saying something like that, it is. Low class I mean. Why wouldn’t you love Dad? Everyone did. All those people who came to the funeral, they all said really great things about him.
Even guys Dad did a little repair for eons ago, they came and put a card in the basket and said nice things about him.”

  “Your Dad was the best in his business,” Izzy said softly.

  “See, I told Mikayla her mom was full of beans. Aunt Adele should keep her trap shut.” Jenna adjusted her seatbelt.

  Yes, Adele should keep her trap shut.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  Jenna pulled something out of her purse. “What’s this?”

  Izzy glanced at the medal in Jenna’s hand. “Where did you find that?” She tried to keep her voice even, calm.

  “When we were packing Dad’s office. There’s a whole box of this stuff. I didn’t want to say anything, so I just put it in the storage unit with everything else. What is it?”

  What can it possibly hurt now? “Well, kiddo, you found the big family secret.”

  “It’s a figure skating medal.” Jenna studied the medal in her hand.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “There were a ton of them in that box. Why did Dad have a box of figure skating medals in his office?”

  Izzy shifted in her seat, uncomfortable as images flooded her. “We wanted to wait until you were old enough to understand.”

  “According to the State of Wisconsin, I’m an adult.” Jenna turned the medal over in her hand. “This one says ‘National Championship.’ What’s that mean?”

  “Okay. Okay.” Izzy took a deep breath. “We were…we were pretty good, your father and I.”

  “You and dad were figure skaters?” Jenna started laughing so hard tears ran down her cheeks. “Dad?” She paused in her laughter to stare at Izzy. “Dad was a figure skater?” She covered her face with her hands and laughed more.

  “Yes, he was. We were a pairs’ team.” Izzy waited until Jenna took a breath. “I’ll go on, if you’re ready to hear more?”

  Jenna wiped her eyes, “I’m not sure I can take more. What’s next, you’re going to tell me you and Dad skated in the Olympics?”

  “Well…”

  “Oh come on! You two live your whole lives here in boring old Cobia, Wisconsin, where nothing ever happens. You work in a dentist office and Dad rebuilds old cars. Two of the most boring people ever. No offense.”