Page 27 of One Pucking Chance

“Beer,” he replies.

I turn to Miranda, and we shake our heads, noses scrunched.

“What about a martini?” I ask him.

“Very hockey.” He nods.

“You’re totally lying, but we’ll take two, please,” Miranda states with a laugh.

Drinks in hand, we make it down a few steps to the two empty leather chairs in front of the big opening that looks down on to the stadium. The team is skating around the ice, warming up.

“Hi,” a cheerful voice says to my side. “You must be Jaden’s orchard date.” The voice belongs to a heavier-set man with rosy cheeks. He’s decked out in Crane’s gear from top to bottom. There’s a woman at his side, beaming at me. She, too, is wearing nothing but navy blue and white with a giant foam finger on her hand.

“I am. Are you the Appletons?” I ask.

They nod wildly, wearing matching goofy grins.

Their joy is contagious, and I can’t help but smile back. “Thank you so much for everything you set up the other night. Your orchard is absolutely beautiful. That was such a special night.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Appleton says. “We’d do anything for Jaden. He’s such a good guy.”

“And a talented player,” Mr. Appleton adds.

“I’m excited to see him play,” I admit.

“Oh no, we forgot our foam finger!” Miranda exclaims, sounding legitimately bummed.

I want to tell herleftis a more appropriate word. Before I do, Mrs. Appleton pipes up, “Oh, just ask the server, dear. She’ll bring you whatever you want.” She points at the wall where two menus reside. “There’s a booklet with all the food and drinks available, and the other tells you everything the Crane store carries. Order whatever you want.”

“Oh my gosh. This is already so fun,” Miranda squeals as she flips through the books.

Other VIP guests trickle in, and just as we were told they would, they all act normal. I’m guessing I’m not the first famous person to watch the game from this suite. It’s such a relief to feel normal out in a public setting. Or as normal as possible. Every few minutes or so, I become aware of someone from the seats below the box snapping a picture or video of us. I raise my chin, hoping I don’t have a double chin in the pictures they’re sure to post later. It’s definitely not a good angle.

“Ignore them,” Miranda says, holding a menu in front of her face to block out her mouth.

“I am.” I bring my hand to my mouth to cover my lips as I speak.

A girl on TikTok has built millions of followers by lip-reading, and she’s good. She posts videos of celebrities and deciphers whole conversations by reading their lips. It’s added another level of paranoia to my life. The last thing I need is something taken out of context and blasted all over social media.

Booklet still in front of her face, she asks, “Do you need pens?”

“Pens? No, why?”

“Slippers? A robe? Oh look! Funny straws.”

I laugh. “Miranda, we need none of those things.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, I’m getting some things. Look at this.” She points at an item on the laminated page. “It’s a Crane hockey key chain and bottle opener…plus if your car is ever submerged in water, the end of it will break the glass!”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Oh! Hockey puck ice trays! I’m going to need one of these pads of paper and a pen to make a list. I’ll order those first.”

I throw my head back in laughter. “Stop, Mir. You have to fly home with all that junk in a couple of weeks.”

“So.” She shrugs. “I don’t think it’s junk. It all looks well made.”

Two big foam fingers are placed in front of me, and I look up to see our server. “Mr. and Mrs. Appleton ordered these for you both.”

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