Page 1 of Offside and Off-Limits (Love in Maple Falls #2)

CLARA

Balancing a paper bag of groceries on each hip, I slide the key into the front door lock and push the door open with my hip.

I’m doing my best to listen to my daughter tell me all about her school day—and I do mean all about it, thanks to the fact she inherited my lack of conciseness—as my son uses my butt as his own personal drum machine.

Motherhood. Am I right?

“—which is why I told Mrs. Englewood that you would bake all the cupcakes and that you would do the fancy thing with the sprinkles that you know me and my friends love so much, right, Mommy?” Hannah says, at long last taking a breath.

“You did what?” I ask as I trudge down the hallway and into the kitchen. “Close the door behind you, please, Benny!”

The house rattles as he slams the door shut.

“I said close the door, Benny, not cause roof tiles to drop off.”

He doesn't reply.

“He always does that,” Hannah says, her arms crossed, relishing it as she always does when Benny gets told off.

I place the heavy grocery bags on the kitchen counter and let out a relieved sigh. Being a single mom should come with a warning label. Do not take if allergic to noise, repetition, or having to negotiate peace talks between people under the height of five foot nothing.

“So you'll do it, Mommy?” Hannah asks.

I turn to look at her and see that hopeful smile on her pretty, young face. Her hair is still in the braids I did over cornflakes this morning, the same blonde as both mine and her aunt Keira’s. “How many cupcakes exactly, sweetheart?”

“It's for the bake sale so lots and lots and lots.”

“So, like, twenty?” I ask hopefully as I mentally calculate how long it will take me to bake twenty cupcakes, allow them to cool, and then ice them all. Perfectly doable before leaving the house for school tomorrow morning.

“Oh, more than that. I told Mrs. Englewood a hundred.”

I widen my eyes. “A hundred? Sweetheart, there's no way I can make that many in one evening when we've got to take Benny to hockey practice and you've got figure skating class. It's not humanly possible.”

“Please, Mommy?” she asks, doing that pleading thing she's perfected over the years that I’m almost certain she got while watching Puss in Boots in the Shrek movies. Her blue eyes are the size of saucers.

“I'll do what I can,” I tell her, wishing I could magic up one hundred perfectly frosted cupcakes with a snap of my fingers—and knowing I'll be elbow deep in cake mix until after midnight.

“Thanks, Mommy,” she says with a smile that lights up her entire face, bouncing on the spot as though she has too much energy to contain inside her little body.

Which is about exactly the opposite of me.

Benny charges into the room, wielding his hockey stick as though it's a sword. He comes to a sudden stop when his stick meets the wall, puncturing a hole in the plaster. “Oops,” he says, looking up at me with a grimace.

Hannah crosses her arms and glares at her brother. “You broke the kitchen wall, Benny. You are in so much trouble.”

“I didn't mean it!” Benny says, his voice a high-pitched whine the neighborhood dogs are probably pricking their ears up at.

I blow out a frustrated breath as I inspect the damage. “How many times do I have to tell you not to run around with your hockey stick inside, Benny?”

“Too many times,” mini-me replies.

“I didn’t mean it,” is his repeated reply, like somehow that means the wall won’t be punctured and I won’t have to either hide it up with one of the kids’ drawings or go to the expense of getting it fixed.

The drawing, it is.

My phone rings as I'm running my fingers over the dent in the wall.

“Mommy, your phone is ringing,” Benny tells me, thrusting my phone in front of my face, almost hitting my nose.

I take it and read the screen. Instantly, my heart begins to drum in my chest. I straighten up and hold my index finger up against my lips to tell the kids to be quiet.

This is it. My shot.

I straighten my shoulders and press answer, putting on my best phone voice. “Hello, Clara Johnson speaking,” I say, even though the caller ID has told me exactly who it is on the other end.

“Clara, hi. It's Veronica Reynolds from the Ice Breakers management team. ”

“Hello, Ms. Reynolds,” I reply, keeping my voice as steady as I can manage. Which is no small feat when you’ve got one child’s set of eyes trained on you, while the other child is reaching for his hockey stick once more, ready to inflict more damage on our home.

“You're going to be sent to your room for the rest of the day for breaking the wall,” Hannah says as she makes a grab for his hockey stick.

“I am not!” Benny rebuffs, yanking on the stick.

“Yes, you are!” Hannah replies.

I place my hand on the offending weapon and glare at both my offspring as I say, “Bear with me a moment, please, Ms. Reynolds.”

“Of course,” she replies, and I wonder how much of Benny’s exchange she heard.

Placing my hand over the speaker, I say, “I’ll have the stick, thank you. Now both of you, go get changed, ready to go to your lessons.”

To my utter astonishment both kids do as I say, leaving me alone in the kitchen, holding the hockey stick in one hand and my phone in the other.

Miracles like this are few and far between in parenting.

“Sorry about that,” I say to Veronica Reynolds.

“It sounds like you’ve got your hands full, Clara.”

“Not at all,” I reassure her because what does that mean? You’re too busy to take the job? You’re better off remaining a stay-at-home mom who works part-time doing a mind-numbing admin job for a local accounting firm?

“I’m calling with good news, Clara. You really impressed us in your interview. We would love to offer you the job of Social Media Manager for the Ice Breakers.”

Suddenly holes in the wall and arguing kids melt into the background.

“Are you serious?” My voice veers more toward the squeaky mouse end of the scale than the, I’m totally in control and get awesome job offers every day of the week that I’m aiming for.

In my defense, this is my absolute dream job, and I’d already convinced myself I didn’t get it to lessen the blow when I got the news.

She laughs. “Of course I’m serious. We loved your social media ideas. They were so fresh and fun.”

Wow . Not only am I getting offered the job, but I’m getting complimented by Veronica Reynolds, Chief Marketing Officer for the Ice Breakers, and altogether impressive businesswoman. Aka, who I would love to be, given half the chance.

“Thank you so much. That means a lot coming from you,” I gush.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Clara.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

“I’ll remember that,” I reply, my giddiness threatening to roll out of me in an excited squeak. But I’m aiming for non-mouse here, so I do my best to hold it in.

“Not only did you impress in the interview, but the strong, authentic voice in your existing social media presence showed us your authentic self in an interesting way. We think you’ll be a real asset to the Ice Breakers.”

It had felt like a risk at the time to use my @CFSMomLife as a reference point for what I'm capable of online.

I started the account soon after my diagnosis with chronic fatigue many years ago, and the online community that I hooked into has grown to be such an important part of my wellness journey.

And the fact I've got a decent following these days can't have hurt, either.

“So my CFS isn't an issue?” I ask and hold my breath.

“We’re an equal opportunities employer at the Ice Breakers, Clara.

We only employ the best, regardless of their personal circumstances, and you have successfully used social media to share your story and inspire others.

In a crowded online world where it's hard to get heard, that's quite an achievement.

Unless, of course, you're posting funny cat videos. ”

I let out a relieved laugh. “I don't even own a cat.”

Even though I’ve been doing great for well over a year now, I still felt it was super important to be upfront with Veronica about my CFS.

Experience has shown me that even though I have many “green light days,” as my friend, doctor, and Chronic Warriors Support Group leader, Bernice Chen, puts it, I don't have endless energy reserves.

I need to manage myself carefully—which means sleep, nutrition, exercise, and me time.

Some of this is a big ask for a single mom who’s taken whatever jobs she could, just to keep the lights on.

And in recovery from CFS, you never know when your symptoms can come back and bite you on the butt.

“It was a unanimous decision to bring you on board. When Kaylee left so suddenly during this crucial pre-season, quite honestly, we wondered how we could ever replace her. But you, Clara Johnson, you impressed us all with your fresh approach and enthusiasm for the role.”

“I appreciate that so much. Thank you.”

“So? What do you say? Will you be the Ice Breakers’ new social media manager, aka SMM?” she asks, and then adds, “We do so love an acronym.”

“Of course I will! Are you kidding? Thank you so, so much, Ms. Reynolds,” I then reply in a rush.

“Veronica, please. Everyone in the office is on a first name basis.”

“Got it,” I echo.

“When can you start? With the players already in pre-season training, it would be great to get you on board soon. You could start by getting some footage of their training sessions. Our followers love to see our players doing their thing on the ice.”

“How does Monday sound?” I ask, my stomach full of excited butterflies. That will give me enough time to hand in my notice to the accountants and mentally prepare for this new challenge.

And it’s going to be a challenge for me. Becoming the Ice Breakers’ Social Media Manager will be my first ever serious job. And yes, I know that sounds terrible for a 31-year-old woman to admit.

The thing is, I got married and quickly pregnant with Hannah so early in my time at college that I never actually graduated.

Instead, I moved back home to Maple Falls with my ex, Dwayne, to live in my childhood home that my parents had left to me and my sister Keira when they’d passed away in a car crash years before.

Dwayne went out to work, and I became a stay-at-home mom.

Then Benny came along, and it seemed my fate was set.

A husband, two kids, and bills to pay meant I would take whatever work I could get, working part time as a waitress at Shirley May’s diner, handing out skate rentals at the arena, serving coffee at Falling for Books, Emmy Roberts’s place on Main Street.

You name a business in this small town, and you can bet your bottom dollar I've worked there.

It wasn't what I had dreamed of, but you know what? I wouldn't change it. Although things didn't work out with Dwayne, I got my two beautiful babies, Hannah and Benny.

Together, they are the light of my life.

And life was good for a while. Well, for a few years at least. One winter, I caught a particularly nasty virus when the kids were still in preschool, a virus I never quite got over, finally getting diagnosed with CFS.

And then my whole world imploded.

That's why this job means so much to me.

“Monday is perfect, Clara. I'll have the contract sent over to you this afternoon, and we can get together first thing Monday morning and talk about putting some of your great ideas into practice.”

My great ideas. No pressure.

“That sounds wonderful, Ms.—I mean Veronica.”

“You'll get used to it. See you Monday, eight thirty. ”

“I look forward to it,” I reply, and she clicks off with a cheery goodbye.

I let out a breath.

I got the job. I got the job!

I’m the new Social Media Manager for the Ice Breakers.

Me, Clara Johnson, college dropout, single mom, and CFS survivor.

No more filing, data entry, or answering phones for Mr. Walker and his team of cardigan-wearing accountants.

Nope. I’m going to be devising and executing social media campaigns for the biggest, most exciting team in the history of Maple Falls, full to the brim of new players, ready to take on the League and prove their worth.

And I’m only half scared to death.