Autumn had no intention of going to a Chinooks’ game. She wasn’t a hockey fan, and there was no way she wanted to be confused for a Sam fan. Their relationship was fine for the moment, but they weren’t friends. “Thanks.”
She showed the twins out, then moved back to her desk and put the contracts in a file. Sam was picking up Conner from his day care for a few hours. She didn’t know how she felt about Sam’s sudden transition from occasional to involved dad. She didn’t know what had inspired the change in Sam, but ultimately, it was good for Conner. She missed him when he was with Sam, but she had to admit that it did give her a needed break. Like today, she had a ton of laundry and a house to clean, and it was always easier if her son wasn’t making a mess behind her. Before she left for the day, she pul ed a few vendor files and put them on the pile of work she needed to take home. The cel phone on her desk rang, and she picked it up. She recognized Sam’s number, and answered, “What’s up?”
“I have Conner. I thought I’d let you know.”
How considerate. How so unlike Sam. “Thanks.”
“There’s a game tomorrow night.”
She sat on the edge of her desk and looked out the window at the parking lot beyond. “Yeah. Conner told me.”
“He wants to go.”
It was a school night, but as long as Conner’s schoolwork didn’t suffer, she could relax that rule. Sam was leaving for several weeks, and Conner wouldn’t see him. “As long as he doesn’t get tired, that’s fine. Just have Natalie bring him home when he starts to wear out.”
“Yeah. Uh-huh. Are you going to watch it on TV?”
“The game?” Why was Sam so chatty? “No.”
“Are you working?”
“Not tomorrow night. No.” She’d just bought one of those Bedazzlers and wanted to glue tacky jewels on something. “November is typical y a slow month for me.”
“Natalie has the flu.”
“Sorry.” Maybe a cheap ugly vase or better yet, glass votive candle holders. That could be cool, and she could use them at events. Maybe.
“So… can you bring Conner to the game?”
Or on pens and… “What? Whoa. No. I’m busy.”
“Doing what? You just said you’re not working.”
What did it matter? She didn’t owe him anything. “Stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“I’ve got a list of stuff.”
“Of course you do, but what’s on your list that’s more important than taking your son to a hockey game to watch me play?”
Just about everything, but to show him how low he was on her personal food chain, she said, “My Bedazzler.”
“Your what?”
“I got a Bedazzler, and I’m going to glue glass stones on a vase or something.”
“Jesus.”
“I don’t owe you any explanation, Sam.” She stood and put a hand on her hip. “But if you want to know the truth, I hate hockey.”
“That’s like saying you hate Canada.”
“I’m not Canadian,” she pointed out.
“Conner is. Listen”—it sounded like he switched ears before he continued—“I wouldn’t ask, but I’m leaving Tuesday for a week.”
From the other side of Sam’s car she heard a little voice plead, “Please, Mommy.”