Remy
I spent most of the next day on the phone. The Garland Grove Arena was a hot fucking mess and it took my attorney, my accountant, my assistant and myself to figure out the financial situation. My father, in his infinite wisdom and hands-off approach to pretty much everything, had hired a financial firm to handle bills, payroll, and taxes. Tandy made weekly deposits while credit card transactions went directly to the financial firm.
The reason no one got raises was because no one turned in hours or time sheets. Whoever set up payroll had literally been told to pick an amount and cut paycheques for that amount until told otherwise. And there was no one to tell them otherwise.
Frustration shot through me as I looked at how much, or rather, how little, Noelle made. She was never going to be able to rent a decent apartment on this kind of money. I didn’t know where she lived now but with a salary this low, I couldn’t figure out how she survived at all. No wonder she didn’t have a decent coat or gloves.
Though my laptop was open in front of me, I was no longer focused on the information. In fact, all I’d thought about since yesterday was Noelle. Last night’s kiss hadn’t been planned, and though I was sure she would’ve let me kiss her again at the end of the night, I’d opted not to. It was probably a little bit of a dick move on my part, sending her mixed messages, but she wasn’t the kind of woman you used for a few weeks of sex until you moved on. And I was leaving soon so I didn’t want to make her life anymore complicated than it already was. She didn’t say much, but every instinct I had told me she needed help.
That she needed money was a given, but there was more to it and even after just a couple of days, she intrigued me like no one had in a long time. I wanted to spend every minute of my time in Garland Grove with her, but that would be incredibly selfish. I probably should have just left her alone, worked behind the scenes to get her a raise, and minded my own business. But that protective part of me came out in full force every time we were in the same room together and I didn’t know what to do about it.
When I got to the arena the next day, there were a ton of cars in the parking lot. It was just after six and there was a high school hockey game at seven that I was interested in watching, but mostly I wanted to see Noelle. I’d dressed in jeans, a hoodie, and a baseball cap to keep my identity somewhat hidden because I didn’t want to cause a scene that would detract from the hockey teams that were playing.
I went down the concourse toward the concession stand and was shocked to see a line with at least fifty people. Noelle was there by herself, and I picked up my pace, hurrying over to her and sliding behind the counter.
“What can I do?” I asked automatically.
“Hi.” She was sweaty and a little breathless. “Put on a pair of gloves. I need four hotdogs. Buns are in the warmer over there.”
I looked around, unsure where to start, but I saw the box of gloves and put on a pair after I washed my hands. It took about thirty seconds of fumbling around, but I finally figured out where everything was and that tongs were a much better way to pick up hotdogs right off the grill.
I was amazed at how efficient Noelle was. She handled each customer without missing a beat, calling out to me when she needed hotdogs, bottled water, or popcorn, while she filled fountain drinks and candy orders. And then just like that it was over. By five after seven, when the game started, there was no one else in line and we were sold out of hotdogs and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
“Holy shit.” I just stared at her. “You do this by yourself every night?”
“It’s not usually this busy,” she said, wiping down the counter. “But tonight is a big rivalry game, so we’re busier than usual because of that.”
“Will it get busy again between periods?”
“Yes, but not like just now. That was the big rush. They’ll be back for drinks and maybe some more candy, but that’s it for hotdogs and popcorn.”
I glanced over at the countertop grill. “There’s not a single hotdog left. Do you always guess how many you’re going to sell?”
“Usually there’s three or four still left because I hate to have to turn anyone away, but tonight was busier than I anticipated.”
“Do you start cleaning up now?”
“I try to clean as I go. The game will be over around nine and then there’s a men’s league game at ten so I hang out a little while in case they want water or anything.”
“Do you have to hang around?”
Her eyes met mine questioningly. “Well…no, I guess not. Why?”
“Let’s go get a late dinner. I enjoyed spending time with you last night and I’d like to get to know you better. If you’re interested.” I couldn’t remember the last time a woman made me feel a little unsure about my next move. They were usually practically foaming at the mouth to get a second date, yet Noelle seemed hesitant.
“It’ll probably be close to ten before I can get out of here,” she said finally.
“That’s okay. I had a late lunch.” I paused. “Did you have dinner already?”
“No, I’ve been here since noon.”
“Perfect.”
We went back to the Twisted Tinsel Bar since it was late and neither of us were dressed to go anywhere nicer. Horace greeted us like old friends, immediately bringing me a Molson and an eggnog for Noelle.
“Food or just drinks tonight?” he asked us.
“Food.” We spoke in unison and then smiled at each other.
“The fish and chips are on special tonight,” Horace said. “You should try it.”
“Two,” I replied, after Noelle gave me a little nod.
“That was easy,” she said, smiling.
“Horace seems to take good care of his customers.”
“He’s been here for a long time. He knows everyone and everything that goes on in town.”
“I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or terrifying.”
She smiled. “Horace is a good guy.”
“Oh, I meant to ask you earlier.” I pulled out my phone. “How would you like to go to Vancouver to see the Vipers play? I can get tickets for Tuesday night.”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “Really? Doesn’t hockey…bore you?”
I burst out laughing. “Really? I just bought an entire team because I missed it so much. Believe me, hockey never bores me.”
“Then, yes, I’d like to go. Very much.”
“I’ll get the tickets.”
Our food arrived and we talked about all kinds of things as we ate. She was funny and well-read, but I noticed she didn’t talk about herself much. She told me about her friend Connie’s kids, funny things that happened at the arena, and that she’d been a right wing when she played hockey. Beyond that, she kept the conversation light and deflected whenever I asked her anything personal.
“Are your parents still alive?” I asked her once we’d finished eating.
She shook her head. “My mom is, but I never knew my dad. He left when I was a baby. Mom moved to the States to take care of her mother when I turned eighteen.”
“You didn’t want to go?”
“She didn’t ask.” She finished the rest of her eggnog in one big gulp. “We’re not close.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you close to your mom?”
“Yup. And my brothers too.”
“That sounds nice. I’m an only child and Mom, well, she’s difficult. She essentially blames me for my dad leaving. Like I’m the one who got pregnant and had me.”
“Parents can be difficult. My dad and I weren’t close either. And now he’s gone.”
“Do you regret not working harder to have a better relationship now that he’s passed away?”
“Not really. Once he and Mom officially separated, he kind of separated from us kids too. I was already an adult and Kingston was in college, but it was still hard. When I had the heart attack and we found out it was genetic, I immediately had the boys—my brothers—tested. Luckily, they’re okay, but Dad refused, saying he’d been fine for nearly sixty years and the tests wouldn’t change anything.”
“You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved.”
“No, you can’t. I do work harder at staying in touch with my mom and brothers, though. Kingston’s on tour and Ashton’s in college, so it’s not easy, but we try to meet up for Christmas, birthdays, whenever we can.”
“Are you going home for Christmas?”
“My mom is still in Vancouver, so yes, I’ll be home for Christmas. Ashton too. We’re not sure about Kingston, but he said he’s trying to work it out.”
“The last Christmas I spent with my mom, she drank until she passed out and told me she forgot to buy me anything.”
“Your mom sounds lovely,” I muttered, unable to hide my annoyance.
“Just gives me a goal, you know?”
“A goal?”
“The kind of mother I don’t want to be if I ever become one.”