Page 28 of Enemies in Paradise

“The council hasn’t seen it. There’s no point. First, the city doesn’t have the money to buy the properties. Second, girls don’t play hockey, even if we had the money.” She sets her jaw tight and lifts her chin in a challenge.

And maybe if she hadn’t said girls don’t play hockey, I’d turn around and leave. But she said it. So I can’t.

I won’t go back inside and face Britta without putting up a solid argument first. If I don’t, I’d be agreeing with Darlene. And I don’t agree with her. Saying girls don’t want to play or that hockey’s not for girls is stupid, whether it’s coming out of the mayor’s mouth or Grandpa’s.

“I disagree.” I stand taller and pull my shoulders back. “In the past, local girls haven’t had the opportunity to play. Hockey is getting more popular every year, especially women’s teams. The more popular it grows, the more girls will want to play. Keeping the pond for their rink would be a real asset to this town and, specifically, for the girls of this town. I’ve worked hard with them for two years and it’s been really great for them.”

And me, I think, which is almost surprising.

Darlene answers with a glare.

“At least let the rest of the council see my proposal.” My words sound like an order, but my voice shoots up to a pleading octave, so I finish with a “Please.”

Darlene lets out a long sigh. “Fine. I can tell them about it. But they’ll need as much convincing as I do, which means more than the half-page proposal you submitted. We need all the logistics; the costs, the timeline, the benefits. Everything. The kind of proposal Georgia’s friend already submitted to get approval to open a bookstore.”

The fact Cassie’s only been here two weeks and has already crafted her own proposal for the shop is the strongest sign yet that I need to treat this entire process not only more seriously, but also with more urgency.

Darlene’s in her car before any words come to mind, but as she’s about to shut her door, I grab it.

“I can do that. When does it need to be done by? I’ll give it to everyone at the same time.” I barely believe the words I’m saying, but I hope she can’t tell that.

“We have public city council meetings the fourth Tuesday of every month. Talk to my secretary about being added to the agenda of our next one.” She checks her watch. “That’s the twenty-fifth of February.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready. Thank you.” I let go of her door, then close it softly behind her and step back from the car. I even give her a wave as she drives away. She doesn’t wave back.

Then I go inside to tell Britta the good news.

“Bear,” she says, looking defeated. “That’s in two weeks. Even if the shop isn’t in escrow by then, can we get a presentation together that fast?”

I don’t answer. The only thought in my head, now that Britta has pointed it out, is how little time I have.

Britta wipes her hands on her apron. “I’ll try to put something together…” her mouth pulls into a sad smile. “Or maybe we can convince the girls to play field hockey.”

I wince at her terrible joke. “Field hockey? What are they? East Coast snobs at a private school?”

Britta laughs.

I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into a side hug. “I’ll take care of the presentation. Don’t worry about it. You’ve got enough going on here and at home.”

Even with Grace working full time with Mom, Britta spends every spare minute—already in short supply—caring for Mom. I can’t let her take on more.

My sister wraps her arms around my waist, and what started as a simpledon’t worryhug turns into a full-blown emotional release that threatens to make tears spill.

That’s the problem with casual hugs with my brothers and sister these days. Every hug tends to turn into something bigger because all our emotions are so close to the surface. No one wants to come right out and talk about how long we may have left until Mom doesn’t remember any of our names, or faces, or anything at all. She’s declined so fast, and we’re all struggling to accept the inevitable.

Even without talking about it, though, the unspoken words are always written on their faces. Mine too, I’m sure.

I let go of Britta before either of us breaks down and hurry to my truck, feeling anxious about a presentation to the entire city council and whoever else shows up that night. But I can’t let worry stop me. I have another chance—my last chance—and I don’t want to mess it up.

Over the next three days, all I can think about is my presentation. The weather has turned colder and we’ve had half-a-foot of new snow, so I’ve got emergency jobs at a few vacation homes where pipes have frozen. In addition, Georgia’s next renovated cottage is ready for plumbing, so I spend an entire day there. And there’s hockey practice. Through it all, I’m thinking about what to put in my proposal that will convince the city council to accept it.

But the only thing that comes to my mind is the image of me standing in front of all six people, and probably an audience, with no idea of what to say because I’m frozen with fear. That picture gets in the way of actually coming up with any words to say to them.

In my most desperate moments, my thoughts turn to Cassie and the fact that, if not for her, I might have had time to get the girls through the season. Even if he’d thought to officially put the shop on the market, who would have bought it as quickly as Cassie is trying to?

We’ve got about six weeks—maybe eight, if we’re lucky—of temps low enough to keep the ice on the pond frozen and thick enough to be safe. And six weeks would be the right amount of time to perfect my proposal and practice presenting it.

If Cassie had waited—or would wait—one more month to make an offer on the property, I wouldn’t have to worry about putting together a presentation in the next week. I could focus on hockey practice and quit worrying about the worst-case scenario of where to move the team if I lose the ground.

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