Page 95 of Goalie Interference

Dad paused for a moment, aware of the trap he could step in. “I guess I’m just asking if you decided gender was more important than skill.”

“Would you have asked that question if I’d said he instead of she?”

Dad wasn’t happy. “You’re trying to start a fight.”

“No, I’m actually trying to show you that you think men are inherently better luthiers, and that if I pick a female successor, I’m sacrificing ability to make some kind of point. I find that patronizing and insulting. I’ve had to fight against that mind-set all my life.”

Dad’s lips were pressed together. He did not like people questioning him.

Diane waited, but when he didn’t speak, continued. “When I started to think about retirement, one person came to mind. Not because of her gender but because she has a gift for creating effective solutions for a variety of luthier issues. She has an excellent understanding of materials and how to use them. She also is good with interpersonal relations, so she’s not going to piss people off by being an asshole and claim it’s a result of being talented.”

The first part of her speech warmed me, because even knowing she thought I could do the job, hearing her list what she saw as my qualifications made me proud. The last sentence had me biting my lip because it was a perfect encapsulation of Conrad.

“Who is this prodigy?” he asked, with an edge to his voice.

Diane shot a glance at me. “Sophie.”

The incredulous look he turned my way doused all those good feelings. “Sophie? My Sophie?”

“Not ‘your’ Sophie, but yes, your daughter. She apprenticed with me, you might remember. I know what she can do.”

Dad was glaring at Diane again. “You think she can fill your shoes? Someone who just plays with guitars for fun? Who’s gonna trust her with an expensive instrument, or to make a decent guitar?”

I knew that was what Dad thought, but damn, it hurt to hear.

“Maybe you should talk to your son, then. He wanted her to look at one of his instruments but she doesn’t have time right now. Because this isn’t just fun, for her or me. And since I try to make this shop an asshole-free zone, I’d appreciate it if you could leave now.”

I loved that Diane was supporting and defending me, but this was something I should be doing for myself. It was time to get over my need for my dad’s approval because it wasn’t coming.

I stood up and faced my father. “I’m a damned good luthier, Dad. I probably should have tried to make you see that, but you wrote me off a long time ago so I didn’t bother. I’ve been supporting myself from my work—even paid back the money from my trust that I used for school and to set up my shop.”

I picked up the instrument I’d made and held it out to him. “You want to test it? I made this guitar. Haven’t played it yet, so you can be the first. See what I can do.”

I held it out, hands trembling, but I was going to trust what I’d learned, what I’d been taught, and how hard I’d worked. Trust the support I’d been given by Diane, and Cash and Remy.

Dad examined the guitar, eyes narrowing. Damn, I hoped it was good. Just as I thought he’d give it a try, he turned his head to Diane.

“I’ll leave, then.”

And he was gone, while I stood with the instrument I’d made and he’d rejected.

Diane swore. “Sophie, he’s an asshole. Don’t let his opinion influence you.”

I set down the guitar. It was a beautiful instrument, but Dad wouldn’t even try it because of his prejudices.

“I always wondered if he’d ever be proud of me. And now I know he won’t. But that doesn’t mean I’m not talented or valuable.”

“Exactly.”

“Cash is supportive. Dad is not, but at the end of the day, fuck them both. They can do whatever the hell they want. I’m living my own life.”

“You go girl!” Diane grinned at me.

Time to put myself first. In my career, and my personal life. I was cutting out the dead weight and doing what was best for me. And I needed to know if a certain space-loving goalie was going to be dead weight or part of my foundation in the future.

Remy

It was late when we got back. Goober was waiting on the steps and Beast pulled over to greet her. I smiled. Beast had gotten better this season. He got along with some of the rescue dogs. And Goober was now a friend. I’d been worried about Otts when I found out where I’d been signed, but in the end, no matter what happened at the trade deadline, this would be the best season of my career—and I’d only played a few games.

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