Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Crossing my fingers.
He writes back quickly with a Yes.
“I have a place,” I announce, excitement sweeping through me, and the hope that they’ll like my idea.
“The hockey arena?” Caroline asks, her voice pitching up with doubt.
“No. Better.”
I tell them, and Caroline throws her arms around me. “Your brain is fabulous.”
I do feel pretty fabulous today, for many, many reasons.
* * *
Daniel shoots me a sharp-eyed stare when I walk into his office an hour later.
“Yes?” I ask tentatively.
He taps his pen against his reclaimed oak wood desk, shaking his head. “I’m confused about something.”
That doesn’t sound good.
My neck prickles with dread. “Okay, what is it?” I ask as evenly as I can, even though my mind is racing back to Evergreen Falls, to the Chestnut Inn, to the game. Why is my pulse shooting through the roof, as if I’ve made a terrible mistake? “Did something happen with Total Teamwork? Were they unhappy with the warmup?”
I try to strip any worry from my voice. I am ready to slide into problem-solving mode, like I did with my sister earlier today.
“Yes, something happened. Total Teamwork reported a fifteen percent spike in donations last night.”
My brow knits. I’m baffled. “So that’s good?”
“No, Remy, it’s not good. It’s great.”
But my heart is still beating too fast. “What’s the confusion, then?”
He shoots me an even more serious stare. “The confusion is how come you’re more efficient than anyone else I’ve worked with?”
I breathe a huge sigh of relief. “You had me there for a minute.”
“Sorry, Rems. I basically wanted to know how we could replicate you,” he says with a grin, then clears his throat. “The Neighborhood Works coffee shop day drove an increase in volunteers and other organizations signing up to offer job training. Plus, Little Friends said they cleared the rescue thanks to the hockey players’ visit.”
“They did?” The back of my eyes sting with happy tears. “Judy and Cornelius and Bea and all the others found homes?”
“They sure did.”
“I was rooting for those little dogs so bad,” I say.
Daniel sets down his pen. “Based on these results, I’m hoping you could take point on the Hockey is for Everyone initiative. It’ll still fit within your thirty hours a week,” he says.
“So you haven’t posted a listing for my job?”
He laughs. “It’s yours till you leave me. But Brinkley has some interest from a podcast network, so we may need to advertise for more help soon,” he says, mentioning the other part-time manager. “Anyway, for now, we want to put together theme weeks to show that the Golden State Foxes celebrate diversity. We’ll select local business leaders for Women’s History Month, Black History Month, Disability Pride Month and so on.”
He explains more, like events for Pride Month too, and I let go of my worries since my synapses are firing on all cylinders with excitement. I’m picturing different events, a range of partnerships, social media opportunities, and players to involve.
“I’d love to,” I say, thrilled for this chance.
“Great. But you can’t use Lake for everything,” he says, wagging a finger. His tone is deliberately playful but it slices through my excitement.
“I won’t. I promise,” I say earnestly. “I won’t give him special treatment.”
I won’t even be involved with him when this initiative starts. We’re racing so fast to the end of us.
“I know. I’m just teasing,” Daniel says, rolling his chair closer around the desk, like he needs to remove the barrier between us. “As a friend though, how’s it going?”
I hesitate for a second or two, a twinge of guilt stabbing me. No, that’s more than a twinge. That’s a freaking basketball of guilt. “Great,” I say, then realize I’d better hedge my answer. Our romance is going to end soon. “Everyone needs a rebound now and then,” I add, using his prior line.
“Truer words,” he says as his smile disappears. “I haven’t seen the media make much of it yet. But that might happen, you know?”
I remember his words about the media’s obsession with the grieving widower, and it hits me how little I know about Lake’s relationship with his late wife.
Well, why would I know much? There’s been no need to discuss it.
“I’ll be ready,” I say with a bright, peppy smile, but when I leave his office, my gut churns. I feel nauseous from the little lies I’m telling him.
Daniel’s my boss, but he’s a friend too, and I hate that I’m not telling him the truth.
But I can’t, right? Once you let the truth out, it can snowball. And really, Lake and I only need to keep up the lie for a few more days till the wedding.
There’s one person I need to tell the truth to though, and I can’t wait much longer.
Someone I avoided the other night.
Someone whose father I just met.
Someone who thinks her brother is broken.