Page 30 of The Sweet Spot (Kodiaks Hockey #3)

Chapter Thirty

Brandon

W e won every game on our road trip. The team was on a high as we approached the short Christmas break. It sucked to be on a winning streak just for it to be interrupted by a holiday, but I’d take the wins wherever we could get them. I hoped the team had finally turned a corner, and we’d go from being mediocre and challenging for a playoff spot, to having a playoff spot and possibly winning our division and more.

But I had more pressing problems. My parents were due in town in less than a week. Thankfully, they were only staying three days. Three long days. I made it clear to them that I didn’t have time to entertain them. Sadly for my little brother, they were going to visit him in Lethbridge on the way back home. My little brother was playing out his last year of Juniors with the goal of making the Warriors team out in Columbus, where he was drafted. I wasn’t sure Bailey had it in him to make the team just yet. He’d likely have to tough out a year or two on their farm team, but he had a bright future and a ton of talent.

Dad hadn’t managed to break him down and harass him like he’d done to me, probably because he knew the consequences of being overbearing meant that he had to answer to me. But Bailey had still dealt with his fair share of Dad, and somehow, the kid had turned out okay. By the time Bailey had come into the world, maybe our parents had mellowed a bit since the kid had been a surprise.

But back to my problems. I had to find a gentle way of telling Wolseley not to expect a warm welcome from my parents. Not even my mother, who could be just as judgmental as my father when she wanted to be. This was on the heels of Wolseley’s successful outing with all the Kodiaks wives and girlfriends.

“I was so nervous,” she said as she poached eggs. She was going all out with breakfast, with some kind of breakfast sandwich, oatmeal, and her breakfast potatoes, which I could eat piles of. My breakfast sandwich consisted of an egg on her homemade bread, avocado, cheese, her secret sauce, turkey bacon, tomatoes, and some lettuce. I think she snuck in some onions, but I wouldn’t find out until I tried them. “But they were all so nice. In fact, some of them asked me about catering, but there is no way I can do that. I explained that I needed staff for that, and it’s not something Delia and I could manage together.”

“See, why were you worried?”

“I’m a bit of a worrier.”

I knew that, and it made me even more nervous about my parents.

“I knew they’d like you. Everyone likes you,” I said, knowing my parents would hate her.

She gently placed the poached egg on the bread and left it open-faced. She then assembled the other side of the bread with the same setup. She had a huge breakfast for me this morning, but I was starving after getting in late the night before. I planned to eat it all.

“They did like me. I felt like Sally Field. Have you ever seen that famous speech where she wins an Oscar and tells everyone that they like her, they really, really like her?”

“I think so,” I said, popping a breakfast potato in my mouth. I had no idea how she seasoned them, but they were beyond delicious. Just the right amount of salt and spices.

“Have you ever seen Cannonball Run ? It is my mom’s favorite movie. I watched it all the time as a kid, and she’s in that. I don’t know if that’s the movie she won the Oscar for. Probably not, but I’m going to google it later. Anyway, she’s the best.”

When she went off in all directions during a conversation, she was having a good day, and now I was going to have to ruin it for her. I needed to find an approach that would soften the blow, but how did I tell her that my parents wouldn’t like her at all? That they probably hated Sally Field and Cannonball Run ?

“I think I’ve seen the movie. Weren’t there sequels?”

“Definitely Cannonball II . I have no idea if there were any after that. My mom only watched those two. I think she had a thing for Burt Reynolds.” She stopped, and I could tell something popped into her head. “We were invited to the Kodiaks Christmas. I totally get it if you don’t want to go. Or you don’t want me to go.”

I stopped chewing and then swallowed before speaking. She really was all over the place this morning. “Why wouldn’t I want you to be there?”

“Apparently, you always go alone.”

How much had these women told her? “To be honest, I hate going, but I also didn’t want to bring someone I wasn’t serious about, but we can definitely go.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

I frowned. It really didn’t. “I’m not the best at mingling.”

“You rocked the drag show.”

“But I didn’t know anyone there. Teammates and their significant others is a different matter.”

“I’m good either way,” she said as casually as possible.

She wanted to go because people loved her. Just like they loved Sally Field, so I would put on a smile and go for her.

But it was time for the talk. I couldn’t hold out any longer.

“Why don’t you sit down and eat with me,” I said. “There is lots of food here.”

“Okay,” she said, first grabbing a cup of coffee. She scooped some oatmeal and breakfast potatoes on her plate. She’d made an extra poached egg for me, but I told her to eat it. There was no way I could eat another open-faced sandwich, so she made one for herself.

“So my parents are coming in on Monday and staying until Thursday. I know I mentioned that they were visiting,” I said.

“Right. Do you want me to do any meal prep for you? I’m not going home until January for a visit, and I do want to spend at least Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with my friends. You are totally invited, and I’m sure your parents can come too. Tangi wouldn’t mind.”

I had a feeling she’d mind in more ways than one. I’d wondered if she would tell Wolseley about the conversation I’d had with her, but so far, Tangi had kept it to herself because if she’d told Wolseley, Wolseley would’ve already given me grief over it.

“I can assure you that no one wants my parents around.”

“The invitation is open,” she said, not catching the hint.

I tapped the counter with a finger. How did I approach this?

“Good to know, but my parents won’t want to go. And about them …” I scratched my ear and groaned. “You know my dad is an asshole. I’ve made that clear, right?”

“A few times,” she said, the smile slipping from her face. Maybe the tone of my voice was clueing her in.

“I want to give you the option of not being here. My mom can be okay, but my dad has a lot of opinions, and I know for a fact that they won’t gel well with any of yours.”

“Oh,” she said.

“And he likes to mock people. He also thinks he’s always right. He gets defensive easily, and he snaps at people because he just doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings.”

“Oh boy,” she said, pushing her plate away.

“Let me put it to you this way: he’d hate Sally Field.”

“But no one hates Sally Field.” She looked at the stove, contemplating something. “I would still like to meet them.”

Now, I scratched my forehead. I couldn’t sugarcoat anymore, not that I thought I had. “If you really want to meet them, I need you to be prepared. He’s not going to like anything. He won’t like your food, the way you dress, the color of your hair, and so on. If he thinks you support a cause—like climate change—he’s going to attack and try to debunk it. If you show any kind of weakness, he will pounce. He’s the biggest asshole to ever live. And my mom goes along with it, mostly because I think she shares his views and also because she’d rather do that than argue with him. Why do you think my sister went to school out East and now lives in Toronto? Or why I played Juniors out East? I wanted away from them. My poor brother was the only one sucked into their vortex, mostly because he’s their favorite.”

She grimaced. “They can’t be all that bad.”

Her biggest fault was that she always tried to find good in people, and I was pretty sure there was nothing good about my dad, and the last thing I wanted was for him to cut her to pieces.

I took her hand and gently squeezed it. “They really are, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I’m a big girl. I think I can handle it. I went to culinary school, and you have to develop a thick skin pretty fast.”

But she hadn’t met Peter Warde.

“Just think about it, okay? You can meet them another time.”

“I will.”

I had a feeling she was going to insist on meeting them.

I had one more task on my to-do list. I had to tell my parents about Wolseley, and I planned to keep that conversation under five minutes. My escape hatch was that I was going into practice even though we had no practice planned. I called them from the car so there would be no chance of Wolseley overhearing anything.

Mom answered the phone.

“Hey, Mom,” I said.

“Oh, Brandon. We were just talking about you this morning. We plan to get on the road tomorrow and be there by Monday.”

“That’s good. How are you and Dad?”

“We are good. Just finishing things up around the house. We thought Brooke might want to come home for the holidays and join us on the trip, but she said she couldn’t get away from work.”

Mom still hadn’t figured out that my little sister wanted nothing to do with her or Dad. She hadn’t been back to Regina in almost two years. If that didn’t say it, what possibly could? Brooke and I caught up when I was last out there for a game. I had half a day to spend with her, and she looked good. She’d gone to the University of Toronto on a soccer scholarship that paid some of her way. I insisted on paying the rest. The last thing I wanted was for my little sister to be saddled with debt. She’d graduated last spring with her masters and had stayed in Toronto to work as a sports psychologist.

“That’s too bad. So, about your trip. I thought I’d mention it now so there is no surprise when you get here. I’m seeing someone, and you’ll probably meet her.”

“Oh,” Mom said, her voice pitching up. “Who is she? How did you meet her?”

“Her name is Wolseley, and she’s the personal chef I hired.” I purposely did not give my mother her last name. I didn’t want her to google Wolseley and see the scandal with her restaurant.

“Sometimes that’s how things happen. You spend time with someone, and you fall in love. I look forward to meeting her.”

I cleared my throat. Now for the hard part. “There are a few more things I want to tell you. Wolseley has pink hair.”

“Oh,” Mom said, her voice lowering.

“She’s a vegetarian, so I would appreciate it if you both don’t start in on lectures about that. She’s also very sweet.” That was my code word to Mom that Wolseley wasn’t confrontational.

“All right,” Mom said tentatively.

I sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly. “I need to know that you both won’t start anything. Well, specifically Dad. I don’t want him to challenge her beliefs, I don’t want him to pontificate, and I don’t want him to give her attitude. She really is one of a kind, and I don’t need her to be scared off.”

“You know your father, Brandon,” Mom said as if that was an acceptable excuse for his shitty behavior.

“I do. I know him very well, and that’s why I’m making this call. Because if neither of you thinks he can behave, then maybe you should stay home.”

That hit her where it hurt. “I’ll talk to him. But I can’t make promises.”

“Put him on the phone.”

Mom knew what would happen if she did that. A blowup would ensue, and I would get my wish, and they would both stay home.

“I will talk to him. It will be fine.”

I sure hoped so.