Page 35 of The Dating Contract

Leah was sittingon a metal bench in June. It was cold, which meant she had a cardigan. On the other side of the glass were a group of young kids, including her four-year-old niece. They were skating along, wearing tutus, and learning how to skate around cones.

The cones, however, were larger than the usual cones used in these sorts of hockey drills, covered in sparkles and had one distinct horn, because the skaters had been charged with avoiding harming the ‘unicones’ in their path.

“I’ve seen people talk about it,” Leah admitted. “And I’ve seen a few practices, but this is absolutely wild to watch.”

“The important part,” Shayna said, a huge smile on her face, “is that she’s having a blast.”

And sure enough, Leah could see the twinkle in her four-year-old niece’s eyes under the plastic shield of her helmet as she came around to try her luck to avoid harming the so-called ‘unicones.’

Which was the best possible thing that could have happened. “I’m so glad,” Leah said.

Carly, her client and one of the founders of the program, nodded, the pride obvious in her voice in a way that made Leah giddy. “I love how the program’s succeeded over the years, and I love how people have come to enjoy it.”

“It’s such a great thing,” Shayna said, as if confirming and affirming Carly’s statement at the same time. “It introduces hockey and makes it available to girls of a younger generation than we would have otherwise.”

But as Carly and Shayna started to discuss specifics of how to actually get Ramona set for the September start date to what would be her program, Leah found herself heading down to the side of the rink. There, the boards and the rails atop them gave her a place to lean and stand. Watching this practice wasfun.

This was the first time in a while where she was watching a hockey practice because shewantedto. She wasn’t watching for clients or prospects or potentials. She was watching her niece, like her nephew before her, play the sport for the very first time, and learn something she’d take time getting to know.

“They’re wearing tutus.”

She didn’t have to move to realize that it was Samuel; she’d already established that she could recognize his voice anywhere. Now he sounded surprised, but the greater, deeper surprise was the fact he was there standing beside her, his arms folded on the rail. But instead of telling him to move his hands out of the way like a freaking nudgy nudnik, she nodded. “That they are.”

“They’re playing hockey wearing tutus?”

Once again, he sounded surprised, which meant she needed to nip that in the bud. “I told you they’d be wearing tutus,” she said, trying not to roll her eyes. “What they’re actually learning is how to handle a stick. The tutus are a value-added benefit.”

“You did tell me. I wasn’t sure how it would look is all,” he said, holding his hands in her direction, palm out, as if he was a traffic guard. “They look like they’re having fun, so it doesn’t matter.”

Satisfied she didn’t need to lecture him, she nodded. “Exactly.”

“What are those?”

She followed the direction of his fingers, toward a group of skaters who looked like they were wearing something strapped to their helmets.

She looked at it for a minute, and then realized what it was. “It looks like a unicorn horn,” she said. “I think they’re meant to help the kids get used to the feel of a helmet on their heads, and also help them find some balance.”

His smile was easy. “Horn’s the added benefit?”

“You catch on quick,” she said with a laugh. “Innovative ways to teach some of the most basic fundamentals.”

“I’d say this is innovative, but that’s why they’re winning this award, right?”

Leah shouldn’t have been surprised at Samuel’s insight, but she was all the same. “Yes,” she said. “Not all U-4 girls’ hockey programs should look like this, but this one does. The girls who play on this program like the added elements. There are other programs, but this one is going to be right up my niece’s alley.”

“It’s fascinating,” he said. “Great to watch and the logo should be that gorgeous too.”

She nodded. “These are little girls who…don’t have to decide between hockey and tutus, between crowns and swords. They probably, like my niece, saw an older sibling play, got jealous and there they are.”

“There they are,” he said. “I like it. They look like they’re having fun.”

“I think they are,” she said. “Are you?”

“I just got here, and I’m not going to, like, sugarcoat the fact that I like watching with you, and…”

“What else?”

“Bryce Emerson wants to collaborate with me. You represent his wife?”

---