31. Chapter 31

I end my presentation knowing I've knocked it out of the park. The mayor is smiling at me—at least, I think her mouth is trying to smile. The other councilmen nodded their approval through my entire slide show. I'm pretty sure the oldest of the four—who has to be at least one hundred and ten—wiped away tears when I talked about the history of the shop. He probably remembers when it was a blacksmith shop. He's that old.

As I gather my notecards and clear the podium for Bear, I feel better than I have since getting promoted to detective. I've got that same feeling of accomplishment and the energy to take on the world. I might decide to fight Captain Markham after all.

Then I turn around.

I'm met by the glares of a dozen little girls and their parents. I glance at Bear, who flashes me a quick smile that makes me feel safe enough to leave the podium and make my way past the not-so-adoring crowd to my seat.

That's when I see the posters at the feet of the girls in the front row.

Girls Can Play Hockey Too. Don't Take Our Rink. And, most tellingly, We Love Coach Bear! I nearly trip over my own feet when I read that one.

Oh. My. Gosh. Suddenly, everything slides into place. The pink helmet I saw on a player. Their high voices when they chanted Coach Bear. Bear's determination to make sure they had a place to play.

I slide back into the seat next to him and nod toward a few of the girls in front of us. "This is your team?"

Bear grins with pride. "Yep."

"You didn't tell me they're girls." I keep my eyes pointed ahead. I don't want this to change anything, but it's already threatening to slow my charge forward. If I look at him, I'll stumble.

"I didn't?" Bear stands as the mayor calls him forward. I move my knees to the side to let him by, but he stops in front of me. "I assumed you knew. Does it matter?"

His gaze pulls my eyes to his. A beat of silence passes before I'm able to let out my breath and shake my head. "Nope. I'm still going to fight you."

Bear cocks his head to the side with a confused look. "I never thought you weren't going to."

"Good… Because I am." My eyes dart to the side. Everyone is looking at us, waiting for Bear.

I don't let his eyes snag mine again, but before Bear steps into the aisle I can't stop myself from saying, "Good luck, Coach."

His mouth curves into a shy smile, and he stands a little taller as he walks to the podium.

Knowing his team is girls, I can't help but care more about them having a place to play. Does this make me sexist? Reverse sexist? Hockey is even more of a man's world than police work. I imagine they're up against similar obstacles to the ones I faced coming up through the academy and the LAPD.

But I also know they've got a chance at an indoor rink if they lose the pond. I'm not taking hockey away from them.

Which makes me feel slightly better, because cheering him on at the last minute when he's on his way to the executioner isn't really helpful. Mayor Voglmeyer's face is stone, and I don't anticipate her giving Bear's presentation any room to change her mind.

My instinct is confirmed when she passes the gavel to the councilmen next to her and says, "I'd like to weigh in on this issue. I'm passing administrative duties to you, Lester."

White-haired Lester lifts his droopy eyes and takes the gavel with no argument. The mayor obviously has things to say about Bear's proposal, and she can't give her opinions as long as she's conducting the meeting.

Passing her gavel is basically the equivalent of saying, "here, hold my beer." She's ready to fight.

But poor, innocent, Bear glances over his shoulder to send his team a final, reassuring grin before stepping to the podium with his notecards.

"Mr. Thomsen," the mayor says before Bear can say a word. "It's this council's understanding that you wish the city to use taxpayer dollars to purchase a property that will bring in no revenue for the city."

Bear takes a breath and leans close to the mic. "That's correct, Mayor, except—"

The mic lets out a high-pitched ringing that drowns out Bear's words.

The ringing stops, and Mayor Voglmeyer leans into her mic. "And all that money benefits only a few girls, is that also correct?"

"Not entirely. The whole town will benefit from having a park and—"

"—But your girls' hockey team will be the primary beneficiaries, correct?"

I do not like the way she says girls… as if the word has a sour taste.

"They could use the pond to practice during the three to four months of winter that it's frozen." Bear doesn't talk in the mic now, but his voice booms through the room. "The rest of the year, the citizens of Paradise and visitors could enjoy natural green space with a walking trail and birds."

I'm so proud of him for fighting back. I want to cheer him on.

But then the mayor raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Do you expect the city to also purchase the birds for this green space?"

She makes air quotes when she says green space, which makes me hate air quotes even more than I already do. And I really hate air quotes.

The tips of Bear's ears go red. "No. They… they'll… the birds will… come on their own."

"Oh, you've made arrangements with them?" Voglmeyer smirks again, and I'm one more snarky comment away from my own hold my beer moment.

"No. Birds like water and trees. The green space will have both, which will attract the birds." Bear's voice is steady and emotionless, so I sit back in my seat.

I don't know why I'm suddenly feeling protective of him. Probably because I hate bullies. And Darlene Voglmeyer is a big bully.

"Maybe," she bites back.

"Come on, Mayor!" Zach calls from the audience. "Let him speak."

The girls erupt into chants of "Let him speak!" and I can't help it. Maybe I don't want him to win, but I do want him to have the chance to speak. So I join the chanting.

Lester wakes up long enough to bang the gavel until the room quiets to a low hum. Voglmeyer covers her mic with her hand and whispers something in his ear. He gives her a side-eye, but then speaks into his own mic.

"Order! Everyone quiet down! No more yelling." Eventually Lester's pleas do the trick of shutting everyone up. When the room is quiet, he turns to the mayor. "Give the young man his opportunity to speak. You allowed Ms. Lee her presentation. I'd like to hear what Bea—Mr. Thomsen—has to say."

Bear adjusts his microphone, but the mayor beats him to speaking first.

"Just one more question, Lester." She shoots a glare at the old man that stops him from raising the gavel in his hand. Then she turns back to Bear. "Mr. Thomsen, the primary purpose of the city-owned pond would be to provide a place for one team of ten-year-old girls to play hockey. Is that right?"

This lady missed her calling as a prosecutor. She obviously wants to put Bear on trial and make him stumble over his words.

But the mayor must not be familiar with the admonition to not poke the bear.

Bear clutches the sides of the podium so tight; I'm worried he might break it in two. "Anyone can use the pond outside of the four to eight hours a week the girls would be on the ice."

"Four to eight hours? You really think girls are interested enough in hockey to practice that many hours a week?" Voglmeyer asks. "What happens when the girls grow out of playing hockey and move onto the next thing? The city would have spent money that could have gone to more worthy projects.

The councilman at the opposite end of the table leans forward and says, "Hockey is a boy's sport," then sits back as if he's revealed something that everyone should already know.

Cries of "hockey is for girls too!" erupt from the audience, and I find myself nodding, but I don't join them. I exchange a look with Georgia, who shrugs and frowns. Maybe she's as unsure as I am about what to do now, the only difference being that she likely knew Bear's team is all girls. How did I miss that fact for so long?

Lester bangs the gavel again, but he lacks the mayor's authority. The crowd only gets louder until Voglmeyer stands, red-faced, with her hands on her hips and shouts, "Get your team under control, Bjorn Thomsen!"

Hearing Bear's birth name come out of her mouth, I vow to only call him Bear from now on.

The girls are too riled up to listen. They keep yelling, along with their parents, until Bear turns and motions for them to sit.

They immediately go silent and sink back into their seats.

Bear faces the mayor and leans into the podium. "I apologize, Mayor, Councilmen. There seems to be some disagreement from the local townspeople about who hockey is for. I believe fans of the Professional Women's Hockey League would also disagree that it is only for boys."

Titters break out across the room. Even Lester smiles. As he reluctantly calls the meeting back to order, I pull my phone from my purse and google professional women's hockey.

"They're the only ones. The city does not have the money for a niche sport," Mayor Voglmeyer says.

"Half the boys in Paradise already play hockey, and the city subsidizes their travel to Florence to practice." Bear shoots back. "Wouldn't it make sense to invest that money in a rink the boys can use too?"

"People want to watch boys play hockey. That's the difference," Councilman Hockey-Is-For-Boys says into his mic.

Mr. Thomsen pushes himself up from his seat. "So, hockey is about spectators? How many spectators are going to the Future Farmers of America councils or State Park Marina? Or city councils, for that matter, yet we added an entire wing to this building. Was that for the sake of spectators?"

Before anyone on the stand can reply, one of the hockey moms pops up. "Girls hockey has seen a sixty-five percent increase in participation in the past fifteen years," she says before Lester bangs the gavel.

That's when one dad stands. "It's becoming more popular every year, and our girls deserve the chance to be part of it."

Bear and the mayor both stare at the parents with surprise, but Bear comes out of his daze first.

"That's right." He turns back to the council. "And the sport is an excellent way to increase agility, stamina, and coordination. Other benefits include community building as players work together toward a common goal and their supporters come together to cheer them on."

Except for the mayor and Mr. Hockey-Is-For-Boys, the council members look interested in Bear's argument. They listen and nod, occasionally glancing at the team.

That's when I pop up. "Paradise has the opportunity to be at the forefront of the growth of women's hockey by providing girls equal access to the sport. More importantly, the community has the chance to support the dreams of the girls in this town."

Bear doesn't need my help, but I can't stop myself. I've found just enough information about women's hockey to be dangerous. And maybe I'm channeling the fight I should take to Captain Markham into this one.

I sit back down, but Voglmeyer keeps her eyes glued to me. "Interesting, Miss Lee, that you now want the shop to be torn down so little girls can play hockey a few months out of the year when they could read books year-round."

I open my mouth to say something, but my brain empties of any thought beyond the mayor's accusation that I want the shop torn down.

That's not what I want. I want a bookstore with a garage door I can open in the summer for people to sit on the patio sipping drinks and reading books.

But I also want girls to have the chance to play hockey if that's what they want to do.

I let my eyes drift from Bear's broad shoulders to the much smaller ones of the girls sitting in front of me. All of whom are turned around, wide-eyed, staring at me.

I'm so tempted to join their fight. I believe in their cause. I fought this same fight when I was in the police academy, and again as I worked my way to detective, then again every day that I worked under Captain Markham.

But fighting for them would mean giving up my own fight for my bookstore. I don't know much about hockey, but I know I don't believe it holds the same benefits as getting lost in a book does. Hockey may help these girls in a lot of ways, but stories do the work of helping people make sense of the world.

I can't give up my fight for theirs, but maybe I can help. I scan the table with the five council members until I meet Lester's eyes. He gives me an encouraging smile, and I take a deep breath.

"I'm not saying I want the shop torn down, only that I'd like to see if we can find a solution to benefit everyone."

The mayor's eyes narrow. "If that's true, then you shouldn't have applied for historic status for the building. The history you presented today is too compelling not to preserve Paradise Valley's first auto shop."

Her lips curve into a satisfied arc, and she continues, "With all the changes in Paradise, it's important that we preserve our history."

"I don't disagree, Mayor." I don't give her time to speak, even though my thoughts are too uneven to stitch together seamlessly. "But I propose we table the issue until the next meeting in order to find a solution beneficial to the entire city, including the Paradise Squirrels."

"What do invasive rodents have to do with anything?" she retorts, and I'm shocked she'd talk about the girls that way.

I'm ready to call the mayor out on her inappropriate behavior when I hear Bear behind me. "That's the name of the girls' team, Mayor."

I sink back into my seat, grateful I didn't really blow things up, while Lester leans into his mic. "I second Ms. Lee's motion."

"You're only allowed to moderate while you have the gavel, Lester. You can't second anything." Voglmeyer points to the gavel in his hand, and Lester blinks as though it appeared there by magic.

Then the mayor turns back to me. "Only council members can put forth motions."

"Then I'd like to make a motion…" another council member, who I thought was asleep, pipes up. He looks at me, a little confused, and I hold my breath. "That we do the thing the young lady just proposed. Table signing the application for a month. In the meantime, in order not to place an undue burden on the taxpayers, the young man can attempt to raise half the money for the purchase of the pond."

I stare at the councilman, too shocked to say the words aloud that are playing on repeat in my head. That's not what I wanted.

"That won't work." Voglmeyer sits on the edge of her chair and grabs the mic. "A majority of the council has already signed the application for historic status. Mr. Thomsen is proposing the building be razed, but it can't be if it's designated historic."

A feeling of relief and gratitude for Mayor Voglmeyer washes over me like a rogue wave. I don't see it coming, and when I get over my surprise, I immediately regret the feelings.

"You can sign anything you want, but I own the building." A voice from the back of the room draws all eyes to Grandpa Sparks in front of the doors, leaning on his cane. "The application needs my signature, too."

Who knows when he came in, but he's definitely got everyone's attention now.

"Unless I okay it, that building will remain as unhistoric as it's always been. And a month is a fair amount of time for Bear to find a solution that will allow these girls to keep playing hockey. If he decides to put any money raised into building an indoor rink instead of purchasing the pond, you'll have my signature. If not, then I'll support his proposal to tear down the shop."

Grandpa's eyes briefly land on mine, and I imagine there's an apology in them for supporting Bear, but I can't be sure. He doesn't say anything else before walking out of the room. Before the door closes behind him, Lester bangs the gavel. "All in favor, say, aye."

To my surprise, and everyone else's, Mayor Voglmeyer is the only nay. Even Mr. Hockey-is-For-Boys says aye.

As soon as the votes are in, Lester bangs the gavel again and proclaims the motion passed. Then quickly adds, "If there's no further business, this meeting is adjourned until we reconvene next month."

For a man in his second century of life, Lester moves fast. He's out the door before most of us—including the girls—have stood. When I see Mayor Voglmeyer go after him, I understand why he's suddenly so spry.

The rest of us glance around, uncertain whether to celebrate. Bear has a second chance to get his hockey rink. His girls may actually get to play.

I can't believe I'm happy about that, but I am. The girls are already talking about how to earn money for a rink, trying to decide if they'd want an indoor one or if they'd rather keep the pond. I hope their confidence pays off. I want them to believe they can reach their dreams.

Because I think I just ruined my chances of living mine.