Page 74 of Skating and Fake Dating
BAILEY
The Maple Fest is in full swing when Harlow and Ted, a retired NHL player who moved here after the charity team’s success and whom I met at the team launch party, approach my stall.
Harlow says, “We’re so glad you have a table. I thought Teddy was going to have a temper tantrum when I told him we were out of your maple butter.”
My eyes widen with amusement. “Wow. Thank you. People say it’s addictive.”
Ted elbows his wife. “You were curled in a ball, practically crying.”
She says. “We’re joking mostly, but we will take a jar. By any chance, do you sell online? I’d like to send some home for the holidays.”
Depressingly, I tell them the same thing I’ve repeated several times now—no—and the conversation shifts to life in Maple Falls before I explain that I’m not going to be here to tap the trees this winter because I’ll be transferred to a new team as the NHL PAL. That also means no more Sweet Memories.
“So this means no more maple butter?” Ted asks, looking panicked.
Harlow gasps.
Maybe they weren’t joking.
He taps the air with his finger. “Hold on. I have a solution. Carson will be here. Plus, Asher grew up on a maple farm in Canada. They can do it.”
“It’s a lot of work and with their schedules, I’m not so sure they’d want to volunteer.”
“We’ll help,” Harlow says brightly.
Ted nods in agreement.
While I appreciate their enthusiasm, I long to be the one inserting the splines, joining the trees with the tubes and filtering the sap.
“You dug Carson out of his pity party hole of despair. The least he can do is collect some tree sap for you while you’re gone.”
Little does Ted know that Carson and I already had an agreement and we’re just about even. But then I double back to the other thing he said.
“Pity party hole of despair,” I repeat, not as a question, but more with amusement, seeing as I’m Carson’s fake girlfriend.
Ted continues, “Carson was different before that ex of his crushed his heart, but I see him coming back to the land of the living, bit by bit.”
“What do you mean?” I ask with what I hope sounds like casual nonchalance but curious to know more about this other version of Carson.
“Bama was known for his easy laugh, relaxed attitude. He was the life of the party and so generous in that Southern hospitality kind of way, not to mention he won the Frozen Four back in college, so he was a bit of a legend too.”
Harlow tips her head as if not privy to this information. “Then what happened?”
“Then he proposed to his high school sweetheart after ten years of faithful dating ... and waiting. She rejected him. Turns out she was sneaking around with some loser. Bama flamed out,but then, as if pulling himself together, he went into this weird zone where he was super rigid with routines, upped his practice, nutrition, and someone said he even had a spreadsheet for his sleep schedule.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Seriously. He went all-in on becoming a super hockey star for this big comeback season.”
Harlow adds, “Sounds like he was trying to overcompensate and control every aspect of his life after what happened. It’s understandable. How about now?”
I’m not sure how to answer because these finer details are news to me. I don’t know anything about spreadsheets, so maybe he’s loosened up a little.
Just then, Nanna hurries over, looking stricken. “I was just talking with the festival coordinator and a storm is coming. We need all hands on deck to move supplies and such inside before it hits.”
Glancing up, what started as a beautiful autumn morning clouds over, staining the sky with angry shades of gray, until I see Carson approaching us. His eyes hover over me for a moment before he takes charge. “Blondie, how about you get started cleaning up here? I’ll go with Nanna and you can meet us when you’re done. Ted, you come with us. Harlow, will you please help Bailey?”
She nods. “And I’ll tell her all about how I got my custom tea blend biz off the ground.”
