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“Thanks. I need to go.”
She says again, “Good luck!”
I’m going to need it in more ways than one, but right now I know that luck’s not on my side. I hang up and look at my phone. There’s a message from Isobel.
The kids are at the concession stand, and don’t worry, you don’t need to pay me. The girl at the stand said she'd look after the kids until you got there. Sending you a picture now.
Jesus Christ, Isobel! Of course, I’m not going to fucking pay you! At least she has the decency to send a picture of where my kids are right now. Maybe the kids’ lives aren’t in as much danger as I think, but it sure fucking feels like it. I just need to get to that stand quickly, before the shit hits the fan. I just hope that they’re really, truly safe, because I’m not going to take the word of a nanny who just abandoned them in an arena. A nanny that can’t possibly be right in the head.
A nanny that I hired, and that I never saw the signs about until it was too fucking late.
Chapter 2
Faith
My dad is staring at me as if I’m from a different planet. One minute I’m serving a dark-haired girl and two kids, the next she’s screaming and leaving them with me.
I tried to chase after her, but she was running too fast—at least, until she stopped all of a sudden, abruptly enough for me to almost crash into her. Then, she reached out and grasped my hands within hers, as if we were friends or something, and said, “Their dad’s Tristan Wright, one of the NHL players. He’ll come and get them. I just can’t do this anymore. No, not anymore!”
I knew damn well who Tristan Wright was, and I couldn’t believe that his kids were with me. I chased after her a little bit, but I couldn’t keep up through the crowds of people.
I decided I’d look after the children, not only because she’d just dumped them with me, but because I had the crazy notion of getting an autograph. Besides, this was a big game against Boston, with a massive turnout of fans, and I couldn’t just leave Dad alone...or these kids. I had to try and occupy them until someone came to pick them up.
I shake my head at the idea of the Arizona Cats captain’s kids being in my care. It feels like an honor to hang out with them, even for a little bit.
I wonder why she left them? Since the woman disappeared twenty minutes ago, I haven’t had an issue with them at all.
“Faith, seriously, why did that mother leave her kids?” Dad asks as he starts to get into a panic. The stand has started to get busy.
He hadn’t given up on my dream, and that was the only reason we were here. I’d wanted to play hockey when I was a little girl, and after I lost one too many games, I lost my confidence. I haven’t skated in years, and my dad has this crazy notion that running the concession stand will maybe m
ake me feel as though I’m a part of the hockey world once more. My dreams of getting a hockey scholarship to go to college were snuffed out, purely by my own lack of esteem. I wanted to be like my mom, who’d been a right-winger for the Boston Pride, a team I’ve been following since I put on my first skates.
“Faith?”
I shake my head, making the daydream dissipate, and then I look down. The kids are on stools, trying to help serve popcorn with Dad.
I whisper to him, “Their mother is dead. The little girl told me that the moment I came back from trying to chase down their nanny. She said that the nanny was bad and wasn’t interested in looking after them. I don’t know the full story. Don’t worry, their dad is Tristan Wright.”
He nearly chokes. “You’re kidding.”
I shake my head. “Apparently not.” After that, he seems to like the idea of the kids being at our stand. He didn’t question their presence again, at least.
“This is fun!” the blue-eyed girl screams as she opens up the folded popcorn packet and my dad starts to scoop popcorn into it. He fills it to the brim. We’re out of the ready-made ones in a heartbeat, as the crowd becomes thick and demanding, complaining about the long line.
We’re having a trial promotion to try and sell as many packets as possible. The other concession stands weren’t happy about it, but I checked the term and conditions of our stand. Yes, we had to be uniform in prices, but there’s nothing in the rulebook about running promotions. Our deal entails only that purchases of large popcorn packets come with a free drink. I’ve been to a few games, so I know the best places to put up promotion notices. And it’s helping.
Dad’s hardware store isn’t making that much money lately, and though part of the reason he took up working this concession stand was to get me back in touch with hockey, it’s still a job to keep him going until the store gets back on its feet.
Dad shrugs. “At least they're useful.”
He’s hinting to me; I can hear it in his voice. There’s a comment in there somewhere about offering up my babysitting services.
I ignore him, realize one thing—I don’t even know their names. So, I ask.
The girl proudly stands as she hands me a small packet of popcorn. “I’m Darcy, and he’s Ferguson.”
“Right. Seeing as you guys are so good, this will be your job. Okay?”
