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Georgie and Leesa both gave their friend sympathetic smiles and returned to the handwritten letters and colourful drawings awaiting their attention.

Oliver’s delight, however, lingered. Talking about Egypt and the pyramids, Georgie and her friends didn’t glaze over with boredom. Not once. Instead, they listened and asked questions, proving that his insights were worthy, appreciated, and welcomed. God knows the last time that happened—and in all places, a Toronto hockey arena. Perhaps joining Georgie at the Gardens wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Caught up in the spirit of the morning, he tore open an envelope and removed a crayon drawing of a goalie with cat ears sent in by a young fan. Cute and detailed, Oliver was impressed. “Wow, this one’s…unique.”

Gathering several photos, Georgie glanced at the artwork in his hand. “That’s Felix Potvin. His nickname’s The Cat.”

“Like the old cartoon character, Felix the…” Oliver studied the drawing again. “How often do you do this?”

“We volunteer once or twice a month. The team gets swamped with mail, so we help move things along. It keeps everyone happy. And it’s fun. We see some endearing stuff.”

On the table, Oliver located photos of Potvin guarding his net, his face hidden behind a blue and white goaltender’s mask of wire and fibreglass. He shuffled through the entire stack but couldn’t find one with an autograph. “Are there any signed pictures left?” he asked.

“Oh, none of the photos here are autographed,” said Kaitlin, gathering several opened letters she and Leesa had already fulfilled. “The mail we answer is all the stuff addressed to the team as a whole. If a fan wants an autographed picture of a specific player, they have to write directly to that player.”

“Some get so flooded with requests they have to pay someone to help—like Leesa,” added Georgie.

Leesa motioned to the drawing from earlier of the player sporting a cowboy hat. “I started answering our captain’s mail last month.”

“Do the players read what they receive?” asked Oliver.

“I can’t speak for all, but my guy tries his best,” said Leesa. “He personally answers as many letters as he can. What he can’t get to, he sends home to me, and I make sure every person receives an autographed picture.”

Oliver scratched his chin. “So anything of a personal nature…”

“I never see,” said Leesa. “He goes through it all first, keeps some drawings and letters, but obviously can’t hang on to everything.”

Oliver nodded, remembering the response he received in 1972 after writing directly to his father when he played for the World Hockey Association’s Ottawa Nationals. Ripping the envelope open, fourteen-year-old Oliver found an unsigned postcard-sized photo and nothing else. Not a letter nor any sort of personal acknowledgement—nothing. Left in tears, it was the last time he’d reached out, or thought about that letter and where it might’ve ended up.

Until now. He watched Kaitlin gather a pile of answered fan letters and drawings from the second table, which she dumped into a recycling box. Oliver’s heart pinched.

As Georgie and her friends chatted about Minnesota’s team moving to Dallas at the end of the season, he picked up a pen and a fresh envelope and jotted down the return address of the young artist. Next, he collected several photos of ‘The Cat’ and dropped them inside. Kaitlin walked past, scooping up discarded envelopes and letters for disposal, including the crayon goalie drawing.

“I’d like to keep that one,” said Oliver. “If that’s okay?”

“Absolutely.” Kaitlin handed it back. “Don’t blame you. It’s adorable.” She continued around the table, taking the recycling box back to her seat.

Oliver folded the drawing and slipped it into his coat pocket, but the thickness in his throat told him saving the artwork from the trash wasn’t enough. “Actually, Kaitlin?”

She glanced up from a fresh stack of letters. “Yeah?”

“Do you know who helps the goaltender with his mail? I’d like to send the little guy a signed photo. He put so much effort into his drawing.”

Lowering the letter she was reading, Georgie grinned.

“I can find out,” Kaitlin replied. “I’ll ask our liaison in the hockey office on Monday.”

A lightness filled his chest. “Thank you.” Reaching across the table, Oliver relinquished the envelope he’d already addressed to Kaitlin.

“Well done, you!” Georgie bumped his arm. “Making a fan’s day.”

While you’re making mine. As Oliver met her eyes, she smiled, her warm gaze lingering, in no hurry to depart. He dragged in a slow breath.

“Hey, did you bring that photo album, Gi?” asked Leesa.

Georgie blinked. “Yes!” Bending over, she tugged a book with a red cover from her tote bag and passed it across the table. “Have to warn you—it’s dusty.”

“Don’t care. I’ve been dying to see these for ages.” Cracking open the cover, Leesa gasped. “Check ’er out, guys!” She flipped the album around and held it high.