Page 56 of Shining Through

“Yes. She’s great.”Deep breaths, deep breaths. You’ll be here all day if you don’t relax.

“I think my niece likes you, too. Hey listen, I know I shouldn’t ask this, but Kelsey’s birthday is next week, and—”

“It’s fine. I’m happy to sign a picture as soon as we’re done.”

Which she hoped would be any minute, but after years of being subjected to this, she knew better. Three ounces wasn’t much, but a couple of years ago, it had taken hours to produce an adequate sample. She didn’t have time for that today. Maybe if she shut her eyes, she could pretend the woman wasn’t here. Minutes ticked past. It didn’t help. Tabitha sighed with frustration.

She gazed up at Susan, who looked oddly sympathetic. “I know it’s hard,” she said. “Too bad some people have to cheat and ruin things for everyone else. It’s all because of those damn Russians. You can’t trust ‘em as far as you can throw ‘em.”

Tabitha’s cheeks grew hot, and there was an unexpected sting in her eyes. “Susan, I hate to ask this, I don’t want to get you in trouble... but could you maybe... watch me in the mirror? You can see everything I do.”

Susan gave a beneficent smile. “Well...in your case, I can. Everyone knows you’re clean as a whistle.” The woman turned and faced the mirror.

“Thank you.” Tabitha’s shoulders and her bladder relaxed. She breathed a relieved sigh as she filled the cup. There were definite advantages to being a flawless, rule-following Ice Queen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE ST. PETERSBURG CUP OPENEDWednesday evening, with an orientation and welcome reception. Tabitha and Peter had arrived late Tuesday, and she’d been glad to have the room to herself for at least one night. Word had it Mia Lang was in Moscow, working with instructors at the Bolshoi, and would arrive later in the week. As far as Tabitha was concerned, the girl could take her sweet time.

In the hotel ballroom, she and Peter took their seats for the welcome speech. Tabitha checked her phone and found a message from Daniil. He would arrive in St. Petersburg Friday night, though not in time to watch her short program. Disappointing news, though she understood. He had to prepare for the International Series Championship. With a win this weekend, she would qualify as well. He would be in the audience for her free skate Saturday, and then they would have Saturday night and most of Sunday to spend together. For now, it would have to be enough.

A teenage pair in Great Britain training jackets took the empty seats in front of them, along with a tall, thin man Tabitha assumed was their coach. The coach glanced over his shoulder and then smiled. “Pete Flanagan! Good grief, it’s been ages!”

“George!” Peter rose from his seat and shook the man’s hand. “I noticed your name on the list, along with your team. It’s wonderful to see you.”

“Yes, quite. We were a last minute substitution, due to our top pairs’ injury. A shame to benefit from others’ misfortune, but here we are. And this must be Tabitha Turner.” He offered a handshake. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m George Everett, one of your coach’s old skating rivals from across the pond, back in the day.”

Tabitha wasn’t familiar with George Everett, but Great Britain wasn’t known as a figure skating powerhouse. He introduced his young pair, then he and Peter reminisced about their competitive days, back in the 1970’s. She wondered if Everett had worn sideburns like those she’d seen on Peter in an old picture.

Peter glanced around the room. “I’d hoped to see Franz Schumacher here, but I saw that the young man he coaches had withdrawn, too. Another injury?”

“Good heavens, you must not have heard.” George stared at Peter. “Franz died last week, following a skiing accident.”

“My God,” Peter whispered, his exuberance dimmed. “No, I hadn’t heard a word about it, but then I’ve been...well, you know.”

“Busy. Yes, of course,” George said, nodding. “Shocking and tragic. A reminder to embrace the time we have. Who knows when it all will end?”

A loud squeal of microphone feedback interrupted the conversation, and everyone turned toward the front of the room. The head of Russia’s skating federation, Yuri Bogdanov stood at the podium.

“Good evening, distinguished competitors and honored international guests. Welcome all to St. Petersburg Cup.”

The speech was the standard greeting given at every international competition, but Bogdanov’s delivery was far from welcoming. His voice was harsh, and his eyes were hard and cold. This was the man who’d dismissed Daniil from his training group. If by some odd chance, yesterday’s drug test turned up something that shouldn’t be there—-not that anything would—-Peter would exhaust every avenue to clear her.

Yet Yuri Bogdanov hadn’t.

Why?

Those damn Russians. You can’t trust ‘em as far as you can throw ‘em.

Tabitha’s face grew warm as she remembered the drug tester’s comment, and a disturbing question invaded her thoughts. Had Daniil’s suspension been for something worse than what he’d let on?

The Canadian journalist had insinuated as much. Daniil’s suspension had followed the best season of his career. Was there a correlation? Could he have been lying about the true cause?

Don’t even go there.

Desperate for distraction, Tabitha glanced over at Peter. He was focused on Bogdanov, but there was a haunted look in his eyes. The news of his old friend’s death had shaken him. Another reason Tabitha wanted to rally back and win this competition.

Across the aisle, sat Yelena Baryatinskaya and Ilya Zaikov. Anton Belikov must have stayed behind in Lake Shosha to work with Daniil. Mia Lang and Claudia Davis had arrived and sat in the back row. Mia’s casual clothes and ball-cap suggested they’d come straight from the airport.

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