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“How have you been?”
“Okay, I guess, and resting.”
“But not too much. I got your email and I love the idea.” I hear the energy in his voice. It feeds my own, reminding me of how psyched I used to be when I got a new story idea.
“I’m so thrilled. Does that mean I can do the story?”
“It does but I have to contact the owners of the manor first and get permission. Once we have that I give you free rein to work the story however you wish. I think it would be just the thing people would love to see in the summer special.”
I suck in a breath. The paper does special issues every quarter. I’ve never had the privilege of writing for one, but it’s been a dream of mine.
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. This Vanderville story with the discovery of the missing necklace has been floating around for weeks, but it’s allrecycled information. I’m hoping we can be the first newspaper to get an exclusive. People are dying to know the stories that lie within the walls of the manor. We could be looking at a special that could sell for weeks. Maybe months.”
“Wow. That sounds great.”
“It’s your idea. I’ve put in the request today, so hopefully we’ll hear back from the owners soon and they’ll agree to the story.”
This is just the thing I need.
“Thank you so much, Harvey.”
“You are so welcome. One thing before I go.”
“What’s that?”
“I need you to take it easy on this. You’re on sabbatical, Autumn, and for good reason. This kind of story might take a lot out of you. I don’t want that to happen.”
And I don’t want to lose my job, or see this story go to someone else.
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“Okay, then wait to hear from me. Good job on coming up with the idea.”
“Thanks again.”
We end the call and I pull in a deep breath of the cold air. It invigorates me as much as the phone call.
Finally something good. I just hope we get the permission.
I pray to whomever is listening that we do. I head back inside to join Evan, the energy from the call giving me the tolerance to get through the next hour I spend with him.
I settle into my seat next to Zoe and my family. We’re at the New York arena waiting for the game to start. We have seats in a VIPbox, so we can get a good view of the game play on the ice once it starts.
On my right are my parents—thank God—while Charlotte and Cole are on their other side. Zoe is on my left, which is perfect because she keeps whispering lewd remarks about her encounter with the guys earlier.
Miss Zoe managed to get inside the changing room with the guys after their training session. There she saw so much more than she expected when sheaccidentallywalked into the shower room.
Tonight the Hawks are playing Seattle, which I hear is another powerful team.
This is the first hockey game I’ve attended since I was a toddler in my mother’s arms, so it’s like I’m a newbie. Because I missed Canada, Dad used tonight as an opportunity to recreate the presentation of togetherness and unity people associate with the Jakobe family.
While the icy chill of the arena juxtaposes with the warmth of excited fans, butterflies flap around in my stomach like eagles at the thought of seeing Luc again.
I have a sense of eagerness for watching him play. Maybe it’s because everyone else has seen him when I haven’t.
The buzz and excitement for him here in the arena have been noticeable. I heard people talking about him on the way in, and I spotted at least a hundred fans wearing jerseys with his name and number—twenty-one—printed on it. It’s like they worship him.
