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“The name stuck in my head when you rang. Didn’t take me long to find one.”
“I know, they’re everywhere.” She grinned. “So, now you know my secret. My life revolves around food, especially food I don’t cook myself.”
“Well, you’re busy, so…” Oliver looked up from his notes and found Georgie staring at the page.
“Oh, and write down Peter Pan and The BamBoo, too. They’re both on Queen West, which is also a great neighbourhood for independent shops. But if it’s the big name chains you’re after, head to the Eaton Centre. It’s this huge multilevel mall with a food court and cinemas. Has everything. Across the street is the Hudson’s Bay department store, which grew out of the Hudson Bay Company, North America’s oldest business dating back to 1670.”
“I love a history lesson with my shopping,” said Oliver.
With a flick of her wrist, Georgie pointed the bookmark in his direction. “See? I knew we’d get along. You should also check out Greektown on the Danforth, Chinatown, and Little Italy. For flowers, go to Avenue Road and Davenport. Best hydrangeas in the city there. Oh, and High Park! You can watch peacocks and sheep and escape the city’s hustle when you need some quiet time.”
“Good to know.” Quiet was practically Oliver’s middle name.
“I couldn’t live anywhere else,” she mused, her fingers combing the bookmark’s tassel. “I love Toronto. The buzz, the people. There’s always something happening, plenty to do. I know the city can be loud and a bit much occasionally, but I find crowds invigorating and…comforting in a strange way.”
Comforting? Oliver flinched slightly then hoped he didn’t appear judgmental.
If Georgie had noticed, she didn’t let on. “I feed off the energy.” She paused and glanced away for a beat, an inkling of a smile brightening her face. “Come to think of it, I’m always in a crowd. Of students, friends, hockey fans—especially hockey fans. The Gardens is my home away from home.”
“Really? You’re a big fan?”
Her grin grew. “My family’s had a pair of Leafs season tickets since the Gardens opened. My grandpa helped build it.”
“The arena?” he asked.
Nodding, Georgie slipped the bookmark into her notebook. “In 1931 during the Great Depression. Took them just over five months.”
Oliver’s jaw dropped. “How? It’s huge.”
“I know, but that’s Toronto! Nothing stands in the way of our passion for hockey.” She paused. “But you know how it is, coming from Sweden, home of our very own Leaf legend, Borje Salming!”
Shifting in his seat, Oliver winced. “Hate to disappoint, but I don’t know. I’m shamefully ignorant about Sweden’s hockey history as it happens. Hockey is…not my thing.”
Confusion clouded her gaze. “But when we first met, you mentioned playing?”
“I did when I was little but didn’t enjoy it. In fact, I was downright miserable and my mother pulled me out midseason. She wasn’t that keen on me playing anyway and I guess her indifference left its mark on me.”
Georgie sighed. “Parents, eh? There’s no escaping their influence. My dad went to tons of Leafs games and snuck into practices as a kid. He practically grew up at the Gardens. That’s where he met my mum. They were both fifteen and she worked part-time at one of the concession stands, so you could say loving the Leafs is embedded in my DNA.”
“Or written in the stars,” added Oliver.
Georgie leaned in. “Yes, that’s a better description. Sounds so romantic and predestined.” Her eyes twinkled as she dipped her chin. “Written in the stars,” she repeated, settling back in the chair, crossing her legs at the ankle. She picked up her wine glass and smiled.
She’s adorable. Oliver grinned, despite himself. Talking about the sport that broke his family was almost as comfortable as having a tooth filled, but he wanted to indulge Georgie, discover more about her and what made her glow with that beautiful smile. “When did you start going to games?”
“When I was five, just after the Leafs won the Cup in 1967. We haven’t won it since.” Her grin wavered, giving in to a burst of laughter. “Oh, jeez, that sounds like I jinxed them!”
“You’re superstitious?”
Georgie glanced away, her brow furrowing. “No.” She tossed back the rest of her pop.
“Well, I’m sorry they’re having such a long dry spell.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine.” Pausing, she glanced at her glass. “Actually, it’s not, but…gotta keep the faith! That was the first lesson my dad instilled in me. He also taught me how to whistle with my fingers, the difference between slap and snap shots, and why the players in the framed photos hanging around the Gardens are so important.” Her lips parted for a full-on smile. “Everything I know and love about hockey is because of him.”
“So how are they doing this season?”
A coy look teased across Georgie’s face. “Let’s just say, you’re not the only one having a bumpy start—” Glancing at her watch, her playfulness vanished. “Oh, shoot!” She plonked the empty wine glass on Oliver’s desk and snapped her notebook closed. “I have to run. Sorry!” Gathering her belongings, she tossed them into her bag and rose to her feet.
