Page 9 of The Rebound Play
“We’re old school here. Oldee worldee charm and all that.” She pauses before she adds, “Dan.”
“Sure. Well, thanks, Denise. You’ve been real helpful.” I turn to leave.
“Don’t you want to know where your room is? I gave you the best one at the lodge. The billionaire guy isn’t staying here.”
She must mean Troy’s brother, Zach Hart, the billionaire involved in financing this whole thing. I’ve met him a few times. He’s a good guy, and not what you’d expect a self-made billionaire to be.
“I appreciate that. Where is it?”
She tells me the room number and says, “You’re right next to Dawson Hayes. Do you know him?”
“Sure do. We played on the same team back in college.”
It’ll be great to see my old college teammate. He played for the Carolina Crushers last season, but I heard he’s moving to a Seattle team next. It’ll be like old times, out there on the ice with the guy.
“Nice. Your room overlooks the river. I could take you there, if you like? Everyone here knows you’ve got an injury.”
“They do?”
“Of course they do. Your team coach mentioned it and now everyone knows. You’re our hometown hero. We pay attention to that kind of news.”
I give her a self-effacing smile.
“Let me carry your suitcase.” She stands bolt upright, her chair crashing to the floor behind her in her haste.
I raise a hand. “No, it’s fine. You’re needed here, I’m sure, and I’ve got two hands.”
She beams at me as though I’ve said something incredible. “You bet.”
“Has Dawson checked in yet?”
“Not yet. Most of the players are booked in from tomorrow. I can check, if you want?”
“No need. Thanks.”
She grins. “Sure. Will you be heading to the arena after? Check it out again after all this time?”
“Absolutely. A lot of great memories at that rink.”
“I know. My mom told me.”
Her mom? How old does that make me? I’ve only just turned twenty-eight.
I throw her a smile before I turn to leave. “That’s … err … great. Thanks.”
“Have a great rest of your day, Dan.”
After locating my room, I drop my bags, grab my hockey bag, and head to the arena. I haven’t caught up with Troy in quite some time, and I’m eager to see him—and the rink where apparently Denise’s mom remembers me playing.
I really admire Troy and I’ve always viewed him as a mentor. He’s very generous with his time and his resources. I’ll never forget how kind he was to me when I was starting out as a rookie. He’s a good guy. One of the best.
When I enter the arena, there’s a kids’ figure skating lesson going on, taught by a pretty brunette I recognize from my high school days, Ellie. I catch her eye and wave at her, and she grins back at me.
I glance around until I locate the offices. Figuring Troy will be there, I make my way around the rink. As I approach a group of people, who I assume are the figure skating kids’ moms, there’s an audible titter among the group, and every eye seems to land on me.
“Hey, there,” I say with a smile, to more tittering.
“Dan Roberts, as I live and breathe,” says one of them, a woman with dark blonde hair, probably in her early thirties. She’s holding her hand over her chest, her face beaming. “Would you look at you.”