Fresh Ice (3 page)

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 w
rite 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 to 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 glan
ced 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.

“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.”

“Right. None taken.”

“Then you tell me that you and Dad were Olympic figure skaters? In what alternate universe is that even probable?”

“Listen, missy, are you going to stop howling and listen?”

Jenna took a deep breath. “Sorry.” She bit her lip in an attempt to hold back another gale of laugher.

“Thank you.” Izzy took a deep breath. “I was a pairs’ skater, and quite a good one. But about a year before Nationals, the competition that would send my partner and me to the Olympics, my partner dropped out. Just like that. We’d been skating together for eight years and he just up and decided it wasn’t for him. He wanted to go to a real high school or something. I don’t even remember. I just remember one day we were practicing and all excited, and the next day he cleaned out his locker.”

“Bastard!”

“Don’t say bastard, Jenna, it’s foul.”

“Mom, I’m literally in the car on my way to college. It’s not like I can say, ‘oh fluffy bunnies.’ Mike says I’ll be mocked from one end of the campus to the other.”

“Unless you’re planning on having a career in the merchant marine, I’d like you to not take your verbal cues from Mikayla.”

“Fine…”

“Thank you. Anyway, my parents were frantic.”

“Oh so you had parents. You weren’t just hatched.”

“Very funny.”

“Not funny. Mom, I’ve never known my grandparents. Dad’s parents died like when I was four, and the only relatives I’ve ever known were Uncle Sean and Aunt Adele and Mike. That’s weird. Now you’re telling me you were this huge skater with parents…it’s a little bit much for me to absorb.”

Well then hang on to your socks, my dear.
“Well, I wasn’t hatched. I had parents. I had parents who poured all kinds of money into skating. A fortune, really, when you figure in tutors, traveling, costumes, all that. They were not going to let that huge financial investment go down the tubes, they had to find me a partner.”