Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Ellie

After I hand my mom a pain pill with a glass of water, she grumpily tells me, "This is going to put me right to sleep again."

I sit down on the couch next to her chair. "Our new tenant is going to give you some turmeric to try for the inflammation. He says it really helps him."

"Is he eighty?" she jokes.

"Ex hockey player," I tell her. "He had a game-ending injury in college."

Mom swallows her pill. "I didn't think he was coming until tomorrow."

I give her the low down on Zach showing up early, leaving out the part where I made him wash the windows. "I'm off to the rink for another lesson," I tell her. "I'll make supper when I get home."

She shakes her head. "Don't bother, I'll be sleeping." Pushing the remote on her lift chair, she asks, "Can you help me get into bed before you go?"

A wave of sadness rolls over me as I slowly guide her to the back of the house and tuck her in. The tables have turned in a big way. Being able-bodied sometimes makes me feel like I'm more of a mother than daughter. As I plug my mom's phone into the charger on the nightstand, I tell her, "Call if you need anything."

"Got it." She rolls over and pulls her down comforter over her shoulders. Then she closes her eyes and goes to sleep. What kind of life is this for her? I wish I could talk Mom into letting me get her out more, but she's so convinced she's a burden, she won't let me. The isolation is making her depressed. But then again, I'm sure her inability to get around independently has a lot to do with that as well.

When I walk out the front door, I notice Zach's SUV is gone. He probably went over to Troy's house, which is fine by me. In fact, it would be great if he changed his mind about needing quiet and decided to stay there. In this scenario, I would still charge him two months' rent for all the aggravation he's caused me. Yet if I'm being honest, I'm not sure it's been nearly as bad as I'm making it out to be.

As I drive to the rink, I replay scenes from the afternoon in my head. Had I never heard those reports about Zach, I wouldn't have guessed he was the same guy the media portrays him to be.

Having said that, I'm not so na?ve as to blindly trust him. Being Troy's brother isn't enough of a reason to accept him at face value.

I'm running a few minutes behind schedule, so by the time I get inside and put my skates on, my entire class has already assembled. I loved skating when I was a kid, and even though I can't do all the jumps, I'm still a credible instructor for beginners.

"Ellie!" Teah Randolph calls out. "Can I do an axel today?" Her eyes dart to the left.

Following their direction, I see what's got her so amped up. Troy and Kelly's oldest is nearby. "Terry Hart, huh?"

Teah's smile is blinding. "He's so cute, Ellie."

"And you want to show him what a great figure skater you are." Her blonde curls bob up and down in excitement, so I tell her, "Sure, but let's do it at the end of the class when you're good and warmed up. "

"Yes!" She raises one fist victoriously in the air while skating away to join the rest of her class. Meanwhile I look around for Kelly—she sometimes brings the kids at night to wear them out before bed. But instead of seeing her, I spy Zach. He's standing on the rink in a pair of hiking boots trying to chase after Tommy—or the ice devil, as I like to call him.

Gliding out in front of my class, I tell them, "Give me two minutes. While I'm gone, go ahead and practice your figure-eights." Zach doesn't see me until I bend down and scoop up Tommy for him.

"Ellie, hi." He looks frazzled.

"You've got to put on skates to keep up with this one," I tell him.

"I don't skate anymore."

"You're less likely to fall on skates than with street shoes. Tommy's got some speed in those little feet." Tommy looks up and me and pulls on my hair. "Hey, big guy," I tell him.

"Ellie, Ellie, put me down!" he shouts. "Wanna go!"

"As soon as your uncle puts his skates on," I tell him.

"Now!" This little boy is nothing if not determined.

"How about if I take you over to my class while Uncle Zach gets ready?"

"I don't have skates with me," Zach interjects.

"It's an ice arena, Zach. They rent them."

He looks about as happy as I do when I borrow shoes at a bowling alley. But I don't take time to commiserate. Instead, I tell him, "Hurry up. Then come over and get Tommy." I point across the rink to my class.

I skate away with Tommy still under my arm while he wiggles to get free. When we get back to my kids, I tell them, "Our first warm up lesson is called, chase the two-year-old." The kids know what that means and they start to laugh. Everyone loves Tommy Hart—in small doses, anyway.

Putting Kelly and Troy's youngest on the ice, I tell him, "Do your best, little guy." Then I set him free .

Tommy darts left where there is an opening, but as soon as my class sees where he's going, they block him. Then the two-year-old moves to the right. Another block. This goes on for ten minutes before Zach finally shows up. Skating easily to my side, he announces, "I'm back."

I point to Tommy. "Good. He's yours now. I have a class to teach."

Yet I'm so distracted staring at Zachary Hart skating with his young nephew, my class pretty much does their own thing. Tommy moves like a bolt of lightning, but every time his uncle catches him, he laughs and squeals like he's having the time of his life. The whole scene is so precious, I'm pretty sure I spontaneously ovulate somewhere along the way.

Towards the end of the class, I pull Teah over to the side and ask, "You think you're warmed up enough for that axel?"

She beams, "I've got this, Ellie."

Teah turns around and skates in Terry Hart's direction. When he sees her, she gives him a flirtatious wave. Then, while she still has his attention, she skates forward, lifts her right knee, and pushes her hands downward before she jumps. Teah spins in the air—not one and a half times as I've taught her, but nearly twice that.

My student lands perfectly on her left foot and finishes with a slight curtsey toward me. "You did a double!" I call out excitedly.

"I've been practicing," she shouts back.

Meanwhile, Terry skates toward my star student and appears to congratulate her. I can't help but smile at how proud Teah seems, not only to have accomplished her goal, but to have caught the eye of her crush.

Looking around for Zach, I find him chatting with Troy. Tommy appears to have finally worn himself out because he's sound asleep on his father's shoulder.

Even though I should probably just leave, my skates have a mind of their own. Before I know it, I'm in full glide in the direction of my tenant. Troy spots me first. "Hey Ellie, how's it going? "

"Good, Troy. How are you?"

"Exhausted." He nuzzles his nose into Tommy's hair before saying, "I forget how grueling a two-year-old can be."

"Tommy is your fourth," Zach tells him. "How many kids do you need to remember?"

"Apparently four." Troy laughs before adding, "Kelly has made it clear that Tommy is our last." He turns his attention to his brother. "It's your turn to bring more Hart men into the world."

Zach looks appalled at the suggestion. "I don't think so."

I want to ask what he has against kids, but I don't want to appear too interested. Instead, I volunteer, "I'm heading home now." Addressing Zach, I add, "I'll be over tomorrow to pick up your curtains for a wash."

Troy surmises, "So he passed the window washing test and you're letting him stay tonight?"

I don't bother explaining that the windows never fully got cleaned. Instead, I tell him, "He's staying."

Troy lightly punches his brother's shoulder. "Looks like if the whole tycoon thing doesn't pan out, you've got yourself a backup career."

"Ha, ha," Zach responds, clearly not enjoying being the butt of a joke.

"Can you find your way back to the cottage?" I ask him. Even though I don't want to spend more time with the man, there's a small part of me that can't seem to get enough. I mentally chastise myself for even admitting such a horrible truth.

"I think I can manage," he says. "However, if you want me to come with you …"

Before he can finish that sentence, I assure him, "I'm good, thanks." Turning to Troy, I add, "I'll be over tomorrow to help Kelly get the welcome baskets ready for the players." He nods his head.

"That's a nice touch," Zach says. "What are you putting in them?"

Troy answers, "Just the basics. A brochure of Maple Falls and all the fun things going on here in the autumn, a t-shirt with our Ice Breakers slogan on it, a couple bottles of water, and a commemorative hockey puck."

When he's done, I add, "Energy bars, a jar of nuts, custom-made soap that smells like maple syrup, and Kelly's homemade Rice Krispie treats." I explain to Zach, "She doubles the amount of marshmallows and butter."

Zach groans low in his throat which causes a butterfly effect in my stomach. Like seriously, it feels like there are a million of them flapping away in search of freedom.

"Oh, I know Kelly's Rice Krispie treats," he says. "I'll have to make sure I'm around when you gals are packing everything up." Why did I say anything about those treats? The last thing I want is to spend more time with Zach Hart.

"I'll bring that turmeric by for your mother tomorrow," he says.

"Thanks." So much for hating the guy completely. Waving to the Hart brothers, I skate off the ice, yet my gaze can't seem to stay in front of me. I keep looking back at Zach like we're opposite sides of a magnet.

I continue to stare at him while taking off my skates. I consider that he may not be the fiend the media portrays him to be. Or maybe he's just a good actor. I've been watching Yolanda Simms on television for years and I can't imagine she's lying about his character. She's just too credible—she's too much of a woman's woman to lie about a dog like him.

An image of Zach leaving Shirley May what was probably the biggest tip of her life creeps in. I question whether he did that for my benefit and a new wave of irritation washes over me. I force myself to break this hold he has on me and turn to storm out of the arena.

Zach Hart is nothing more than an entitled self-serving player and nothing will convince me otherwise. That's what I'm telling myself, anyway …