CHAPTER 5
Arwyn
W ith the help of Beck and her crew, the girls’ rooms were ready by dinnertime on Monday afternoon. The second-floor front room, formerly a sitting area, had been transformed into a winter-inspired playroom/study area. Beck had found a child-size table and chairs at a yard sale and painted them white. A shag carpet underneath the table looked like snow over the blue carpet, a fjord, if you will. The old books had been boxed up and taken to the third floor so empty shelves could be filled with their things.
I’d given them my childhood bedroom, adjacent to the sitting area. When dad died, I’d moved downstairs to the former housekeeper’s room. It was spooky and lonely upstairs at night, and having all my stuff on one level was easier to manage. I’d used my old room like a closet these last few years, keeping most of my lesser-worn period clothing, hats, and accessories there. It was easy enough to move it all out to the garage for the girls.
The room was small, a tight fit for two twin beds, so Beck got creative and built a pop-out daybed into the window seat. The bedding Zaki rush-ordered had arrived earlier in the day, and I’d washed the comforters and sheets while the crew ensured the safety of the bed. A fresh coat of powder-blue paint and chevron-patterned drapes over the windows brought the formally wallpapered room into the twenty-first century.
Since the closet was tiny, Beck’s dad had added a row of hooks to the wall next to the free-standing wardrobe.
All that was left to do was get my dad’s stuff out of his room.
I stood in the doorway of the master suite, assessing the towers of boxes of photo equipment, prints, negatives, and portfolios that I’d moved in from the garage when I turned it into the wedding dress library. I could move them all into the adjacent dressing room-slash-closet. How much space did Zaki need?
I texted him a few pictures of the spaces. I’m not sure where to put my dad’s stuff. How much space do you need for your clothes and things?
He texted back right away. Maybe a foot to hang my game-day suits? A few drawers. I can live out of my suitcase, too. Don’t stress, Wynna-bun. Please don’t feel like you have to move anything. I’ll help tomorrow.
Okay. Thank you. Good luck tonight.
Thanks. Hey, check this out.
A few seconds later a video came though. Zaki sat at a table, ballcap backward and holding a silver Sharpie. Ridgie the Bear set down a tray of pucks next to him and moved behind him, covering his mouth with his paws. Zaki picked up the first puck, and a look of confusion crossed his features. As he held it in his left hand and began to write on it, the shape of the disc seemed to … shift. When he squeezed it, it squooshed in his hand.
It was cake!
Looks like Monty got you again! I replied. That puck looked so real!
It did. As did the others. It took four for me to realize they were ALL cakes.
So funny! Are you going to prank him back this time?
I really should … Too many ideas to choose from, though. Maybe you can help?
Oh no! I tapped the screen almost frantically. I will not get involved. I know what he’s capable of, and I’m very afraid.
I’m even more capable, especially if you’re on my side.
I sucked in a breath. Something about that last text made me uneasy. But not in a bad way.
Deciding to let it go, I changed the subject. I’ll see you tomorrow. Go … get a hat trick or something.
Ah, the lady is speaking my language. A hat trick is a challenge for a D-man but not impossible. I’ll see what I can do.
Just have fun! I added. D-man means you play defense, right?
Are you asking me to teach you the ways of hockey?
Was I? I really had no interest in the game. Or did I? Maybe I should learn, since that was his job and it would be polite to ask him about it when he stayed here.
Maybe a lesson or two, I texted back.
I’m a great teacher, you know. You might want more lessons. Do you skate?
More lessons? How complicated could the game be? Bunch of guys hitting the rubber disc into a net.
I’m decent on figure skates.
Excellent. You can come with me and the girls up to the cabin after the con and we can learn on my home rink.
Your home rink?
In the backyard.
You have a rink in your backyard?
I do.
Huh. That was interesting. How had I missed that?
Okay then. Next weekend.
Sweet! I’ll pick up you and the girls after practice Saturday and have you home before my flight to New Orleans Sunday night.
That sounds a bit crazy. We can do it another time, when you have more time.
I live for crazy.
That I knew. It was what I was afraid of.
I liked my small, quiet life.
Zaki Marsch was not small or quiet.
Good thing this arrangement was temporary.