Icebreaker (10 page)

Authors: Deirdre Martin

Tags: #Women lawyers, #Contemporary, #Legal, #General, #Romance, #Hockey players, #Fiction

BOOK: Icebreaker

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“Doll, they’ll all speak favorably about Adam; he’s a throwback, and the ink-stained wretches all love ‘old-time hockey.’ Shoot me a call, and I’ll hook you up with the big boys who have some clout.”

“Thanks.” She glanced discreetly around the room. “Where is Adam, by the way?”

“Still in the locker room, talking to the press.”

“Is he good at that?” she asked apprehensively.

“He knows what to say and what not to say, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good,” Sinead said with relief.

“Look, honey, don’t worry: the PR machine here has got his back.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You wanna talk to him? I’ll go tell him you’re here.”

“Yes, that would be good,” she said, trying to cover her nervousness.

“You got it. In the meantime, get yourself a donut or something. You look too thin.”

Lou waddled off. Sinead tried to imagine Adam talking to the press.
He must hate it,
she thought.

She took a deep breath. The room was packed; there was no air circulating. She hoped it didn’t give her a headache. Quinn sidled up to her, chewing on a bagel.

“Where’s your famous client?”

“Talking to the press, apparently.” Sinead took a long drink of water. “Who are all these people?”

“Family, friends, guests.” Quinn peered into her eyes with concern. “You okay, Neenee? Not getting a headache, are you?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Good.”

The Blades, singly and in small groups, began entering the room through a set of heavy metal double doors. “Look, do you mind if I go talk to the goalie, David Hewson?” Quinn asked. “He’s friends with one of my old pals from the
Sent
I haven’t heard from in a while. Thought he might have the lowdown on where the hell he’s disappeared to.”

“Go on.”

Quinn gave her a big hug. “Any time you want to go to a game, I’m your guy.”

Sinead smiled. “Thanks, big bro.”

Quinn disappeared into the throng, leaving Sinead standing against the far wall of the Green Room clutching her water, which she now chugged down. She wondered how Lou was going to tell Adam she was here.
Yo, your attorney was at the game; she’s in the Green Room waiting to talk to you.
She imagined Adam making a put-upon face and thinking,
Great. I just want to have a brew and go home, and now I have to talk with my lawyer
.

Five minutes later, Adam appeared, his light brown hair wet and slicked back. Sinead took another sip of water, carefully watching him. Not the chattiest of men by any means. Though he did stop to say hello to a few people, he looked uncomfortable, and all the conversations seemed to be short and sweet. It reminded Sinead of herself when she was first starting out in law; she was terrible when it came to small talk, so much so that Oliver discreetly told her one day that she was getting a reputation as a snob. Ever since then, she’d forced herself to schmooze when she had to. It still didn’t come easily, but she’d mastered it. A workaholic? Yes. Intense? Yes. But a snob? No.

She checked her watch, growing impatient. Surely Adam had to know she was waiting to talk to him. Was it possible he was making her wait on purpose? Stupid thought; there was no reason for him to be manipulative.

Adam shot her a quick glance, acknowledging her presence. A few more people apprehended him on his way over. Sinead felt like she was at the end of a receiving line waiting her turn to talk to hockey royalty.

Finally, they were face-to-face.

“Hey,” he said politely.

She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

“Hi.” Did he not want to talk to her? “I watched the game. I hope that makes you feel a bit more comfortable about my ability to defend you.”

“Did you understand it?”

“Why don’t you quiz me?” Sinead challenged.

An amused smile flickered across Adam’s face. He folded his arms in front of his chest. “Well? I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“The mini lecture on how the elbowing penalty isn’t going to help my case.”

“I had no intention of mentioning it. At least not here and now.”

“Mmm.”

Sinead looked at him with concern. “You seem distracted. Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, something’s wrong.” Adam frowned. “I spoke with my brother earlier today. He told me you were going up to Claresholm next week to interview him.”

“Why is this bothering you so much, Adam?”

“I don’t like people poking around in my personal life. Talking to my brother doesn’t make sense. Do you think he’s going to have anything but positive things to say about me?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” A tense standoff ensued. “At the very least he might be able to recommend some other people I can speak with, since you haven’t,” Sinead said eventually.

“That’s because there isn’t anyone.”

“Then it’ll be a short trip for me, won’t it?”

“Very short,” Adam replied curtly.

“How did it go with the press?” Sinead asked, changing the subject.

“Same as always.”

“Meaning?” God, Mr. Taciturn had returned. It was like pulling teeth to get him to talk tonight.

“They ask me about the ref’s call, I say, ‘I don’t think it was a penalty, but the refs have a tough job out there.’ They ask me about how the team is playing, I say, ‘We’re really starting to come together as a unit, but we’re not there yet, and we have to step things up if we want to contend for the Cup.’ ”

“No one asked about the lawsuit?”

Adam looked annoyed. “None of the local reporters bring it up anymore, since all I say is, ‘Sorry, I can’t talk about it.’ Sometimes a visiting reporter brings it up, but I just say the same thing. Now, are you done quizzing
me
?”

Sinead was taken aback by his antipathy. “I wasn’t quizzing you. I was just making conversation.” She paused, waiting for a response. There was none, just a poker-faced stare. Obviously he’d rethought their banter of a few nights back and regretted it.

“I should get going,” she said politely. She was in no mood to play “Get the sullen hockey player to talk.”

“I’ll be in touch soon,” she told him.

Adam’s expression softened for a moment. “Thanks for coming to the game.”

Thanks for throwing me a bone,
Sinead thought. “No problem. I know it was important to you that I see how the game is played.”

Adam looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, thanks again.”

Sinead watched him disappear back into the chattering crowd, curious to see if he stopped to talk with anyone else. He didn’t. He nodded a couple of times in acknowledgment of some people, and then he was gone. Sinead took a long slug from her water bottle. She was relieved the conversation was over, but was disappointed as well as surprised that it hadn’t gone the way she thought it would. So much for “greasing the wheels” with “casual conversation.”

She found Quinn, told him she was leaving, and made her way outside Met Gar to hail a cab. She wondered where Adam had gone to and then chastised herself for it.
He’s your client, Sinead. What he’s doing right now is immaterial and irrelevant to the case.

She closed her eyes and let the cab take her home.

Sinead wasn’t sure
what to expect of Claresholm, population 3,200. Adam’s hometown was on the fringe of the Rocky Mountains. She knew it had six restaurants and one traffic light. And she knew Adam wasn’t happy she was here.

She’d rented a car at the airport fifty miles away. Since she lived in the city and rarely got to be behind the wheel, she loved driving through Alberta’s rolling, open ranch country. It was breathtaking. She’d booked herself into the Bluebird Motel, dubbed “Alberta’s Best Kept Secret.” It had more of a country inn feel to it than a motel; her room was cozy and antique-filled, with a large brass bed covered with a handmade patchwork quilt.

It was late afternoon. Sinead wasn’t seeing Adam’s brother, Rick, until tomorrow morning. She’d told Oliver about her conversation with Adam after the hockey game, and how antagonistic he’d been toward her about her going up to Claresholm. “Skeletons, dude, skeletons,” was Oliver’s pronouncement.

Kicking off her shoes, Sinead lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. She didn’t know if she had the energy to go out and eat dinner, especially since she always felt so conspicuous dining alone. People in New York did it all the time: sat at a table reading a book or the newspaper. Sinead had never quite gotten the hang of it. Anytime she had to dine solo, she finished her meal as quickly as possible and left. She thought about Adam, checking out the Wild Hart on his own. Her mind kept circling back to his displeasure at her being here. She also found herself thinking about his broken engagement. Maybe the woman in question couldn’t take how little he talked or expressed emotion. Actually, that wasn’t fair to say. She didn’t know him well enough to know if he was like that in private. “We wanted different things.” God, how many times had she used that all-purpose term when people asked about her divorce? Still, she couldn’t help but wonder about what kind of woman Adam would have been with.

Eager for distraction, Sinead grabbed her laptop from the foot of the bed, thankful the room had Wi-Fi. She’d be able to keep on top of her e-mail messages and look over the notes she’d gathered for Adam’s case. She decided she’d order room service and make an early night of it. She wanted to be well rested when she talked to Rick Perry in the morning.

Sinead’s rental car
crawled along Eighth Street SW in “downtown” Claresholm, looking for the small, pale blue ranch where Adam’s brother lived with his wife and two kids. She’d been so certain last night that she’d sleep well because she was so exhausted. Instead, she spent a good portion of the night awake, worrying about her conversation with Rick. What if she’d come up here for nothing?

The house was smaller than she expected, with a mud-splashed pickup truck parked in the drive. Sinead had been careful to dress well but not too well. Too business-like, and they might be intimidated; too casual, and they wouldn’t take her seriously as a professional.

She got out of the car, and immediately a dog started barking inside the house. The dog was shushed, and the front door opened. Standing there was a man who resembled Adam, if Adam let himself go: slightly overweight, but big and solid. A little boy and girl peeked out from behind him impishly. Sinead smiled, and they disappeared back into the house, giggling.

“You must be Sinead,” the man said, his Canadian accent slightly thicker than Adam’s. He extended his hand. “I’m Rick.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Sinead. “I really appreciate your talking to me today.”

“Adam’s not too thrilled about it, but I want to make sure he gets a fair deal.”

“Exactly.”

Sinead was ushered into the living room. It was small but neat, end tables littered with family pictures, a worn, green leather couch opposite a big-screen TV. The boy and girl came sliding back into the room on the wooden floor.

“This is Dylan and Carrie,” said Rick.

“Hi,” Sinead said, friendly.

“Hi!” Dylan replied, running off to join his sister, who’d already slid away.

“They’re sweet,” said Sinead. “How old are they?”

“Four and six. Adam’s godfather to both of them.”

“That’s nice.”

Rick looked uncomfortable as he stuck his hands in the back pockets of his faded jeans. “Uh, can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee would be great.”

Rick gestured at the couch. “Sit down. I’ll be back in a minute.” He started to leave, then turned back. “D’you mind if my wife sits in with us?”

“No, that would be great. Anything she can contribute would be helpful.”

Rick nodded and continued on to the kitchen. A second later, Carrie’s head popped out from around the corner. Sinead winked at her. “Hi, Carrie.”