Page 2 of The Parent Playbook
I laugh, but it’s not as confident as it sounds. “You think they’d cheat achildren’s charity? Who does that?”
Troy sighs. “I hope you’re right.”
“There.” I dramatically tap “send” on the wire transfer and a wave of relief washes over me. I need Happy Horizon’s Ranch in the best possible shape before Zach brings his media entourageto do their big visit. “We will be beyond reproach of any hockey dude and their mother.”
“Touché,” he says with a little bow. “I’m surprised you’re still here, actually. Don’t you have your first meeting with the team today?”
Why did he have to remind me?
“I know that look,” he says in a tone I don’t like one bit.
“I don’t have a look.” To prove it, I purse my lips and wiggle my face at him.
“Right, no look. Whatever it is, I don’t get it. These guys are likely going to raise a ton of cash for you. Isn’t that what you want?”
No, it’s not what Iwant. Because it’s not a question of want—it’s a question ofneed.But I can’t tell Troy that. The county has reduced funding to charities just at a time when the cost of living in Maple Falls and the surrounding towns and cities has gone up and up and up. Families are doing what they can, but a lot of them rely on Happy Horizons.
And I intend to be there for them.
If that means I have to flap about among a gaggle of dudes who are all charm and swagger with bank accounts as inflated as this castle … so be it.
“Brace yourself, Troy. The invasion of the hockey hunks is upon us,” I say as we escape the bouncy castle.
Troy chuckles, rubbing his side where a future soccer star probably left a footprint. “You’re never going to believe me when I say these hockey stars aren’t all bad, are you?”
“Nope.” I pop the ‘p’ with the bitterness of a lemon. “Rich, arrogant hockey celebrities and I mix about as well as oil and water.”
“In your case, vinegar.”
“You calling me bitter?”
“I’d say sour. And you can’t tell me I’m wrong. You need to put those feelings aside and go hob-nob with the Ice Breakers. They’re going to be around for a while, and they also want apiece of helping Happy Horizons grow. They might surprise you.”
Children’s giggles fill the air, right on cue.
I turn back to Troy. “That’s why I’m going to plaster on the world’s most convincing smile and pretend I don’t despise every second of it,” I say with a determination that’s half-hearted at best.
My phone rings, slicing through the noise around us, but my stomach drops when I see the caller ID.
Maple Falls Middle School. Again.
I sigh, bracing myself for the news of my son’s latest exploits.
“Hello, this is Angelica Davis,” I answer, already walking toward a quieter spot, Troy in tow.
“Ms. Davis, it’s Principal Ballard. Andrew is …”
Hurt?
Stuck in the toilet since lunch?
Able to crack the da Vinci Code and will likely become America’s youngest espionage agent?
“Well, he’s climbed onto the school roof and is refusing to come down, declaring he’s protesting homework that requires too much paper, calling it an ecological disaster.”
Andy.
I clear my throat. He’s his mother’s son, but his antics are starting to cause a real problem, and I don’t have time for this. “Virginia,” I say, sincePrincipal Ballardand I have known each other since we were four, “can’t you suggest he do his protest from the ground?”
