Snowfall at Willow Lake: Lakeshore Chronicles Book 4 (35 page)

C
helsea, the girl who lived up the road from Max's mom, handed Max his phone. “Thanks for letting me borrow it,” she said. “My grandparents won't let me get one, but they're always wanting me to check in. Pisses me off. If they expect me to call, they should get me a phone.”

Max handed her Opal's leash while he stuck the phone in his pocket. No fan of hockey, she was going to watch the dog during the game. He shaded his eyes, scanning the parking lot of the sports complex by the lake. He and Chelsea had come with Max's mom, who was parking the car while they walked the dog. He kind of felt sorry for Chelsea, who didn't have many friends. It seemed she would rather spend the afternoon walking the dog than staying home with her grandparents.

“You looking for someone?” Chelsea asked, nosy as usual.

He took back the dog's leash and shrugged without looking at Chelsea. They weren't exactly friends, but they found themselves together quite a lot. For one thing, Max took the school bus to his mom's every day he didn't have something after school, and he often found himself talking to Chelsea during the ride. For another thing, she was really good with animals, and did chores in the clinic and around the barn. Max's mom said Noah's place, with all its video games, sports equipment and animals, was like a theme park for kids who didn't want to grow up.

“Sort of,” he said. “Noah Shepherd. He's coming to watch the game with my mom.”

“You mean, like a date?”

He nodded, glad he'd decided to level with her about this development. It was something new, and he was trying to figure out how he felt about it. He didn't want to bring it up with his dad or Nina—
no way
—and his other friends would just tell him it was no big deal.

“So is it weird for you?” asked Chelsea.

“Nah,” he said, “it's not weird.” This was what Max told himself, anyway. When married people split up, they dated other people. It happened, like it or not. “I don't mind Noah. He's cool.”

“That's what I think, too.”

The parking lot was fast filling up with players and spectators. This was going to be the biggest match of the season for Max's team. It was one of the first events of the Winter Carnival. The Inn at Willow Lake was completely full, and Max was staying at his mom's, which meant he got to spend lots of time with his dog—and with Chelsea. She wasn't that bad. Annoying maybe, but what girl wasn't?

He let Opal off her leash. She was getting really good off leash, although Max kept a constant eye on her. The dog scampered back and forth through the snow, plunging her muzzle in, then racing off in a zigzag pattern. “I suppose my mom could do a lot worse,” he said. “Picking a boyfriend, I mean. She knows a bunch of boring lawyers and diplomats from her work. At least I'm not stuck with one of them.”

“Noah's awesome, with all the animals and stuff. And him going out with your mother—I figured it was only a matter of time.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it's so obvious he's into her. I could tell right from the start.”

Max hadn't been able to tell a thing. “Did he say something to you?”

“No. I just work there, okay? But he was always talking about her, you know, to his patients and friends who came by, saying how she just moved here from Europe and how smart she was and all. I heard him talking on the phone to his mother in Florida, and she asked him if he was seeing someone and he owned right up to it.”

“You never told me that.”

She stooped down, made a snowball and tossed it to Opal. The dog leaped up, detonating the snowball in midair. “It wasn't mine to tell.”

Oh. Max was kind of glad to know she wasn't some big gossip like a lot of girls he knew. Chelsea was pretty okay. He didn't
like
like her, but she was okay to hang out with sometimes. She lived with her grandparents, and never talked about her family. Max never asked, because she tended to get all huffy and say how stuff pissed her off.

She nudged him with her elbow. “What're you looking at? And what's funny?”

“Nothing.” He didn't really know how to explain it, but he felt better about stuff when he was around her, like it was okay to be mad and not pretend everything was fine all the time. “I'd better go. Time to get geared up for the game.” He called to Opal, but she was either ignoring him or too far to hear. He tried whistling.

“You're a lame whistler,” Chelsea pointed out. With practiced ease, she wedged two fingers into the sides of her mouth and blew a loud, shrill note. A moment later, Opal came bounding over a hedge and churned through the snow until she practically bowled them over.

“Not bad,” Max said. “How did you do that?”

“Practice. You have to figure out how to make the air whistle through your mouth. See, I use these two fingers.” She demonstrated. “Some people like to use their finger and thumb.”

Max took off his glove and gave it a try, but only managed an airy, hollow sound. Opal stared at him, uncomprehending. Chelsea laughed. “Don't worry, it takes a lot of time, and you'll drool all over yourself. It took my dad about one minute to show me how, but I had to try for hours before I got it.”

“Your dad taught you to whistle?”

“Yep, he…” She stuffed her hand back into her mitten. “It was a really long time ago.” She hunched up her shoulders.

Max clipped on Opal's leash and caught up, but he didn't push her to talk more about her father. Some things you didn't talk about, like his mom and The Hague. And someone who was a true friend didn't make you. Max could see players heading toward the building, sticks and duffel bags over their shoulders.

“Hey, Bellamy, who's the hound?” yelled Altshuler.

Max patted the dog trotting by his side. “Opal. You've seen her before.”

“No, I mean the hound, who's the hound?” Altshuler snickered.

Two perfectly round spots of humiliation appeared on Chelsea's cheeks. Max wished she would speak up, tell Altshuler to piss off, but she kept her eyes down. For about a nanosecond, it occurred to Max to speak up, but all the words dried up in his mouth.

“Anyway, I'll see you after the game,” she muttered, then took the dog's leash and scurried away.

Max felt a twist in his gut. He shot Altshuler a look. “Not cool,” he said.

“Whoa, you're defending her? She's a freak, man. A hound. Nobody likes her.”

I do.
No way would Max own up to it, though. Not to Kurt Altshuler. He was one of the popular kids at school. Everybody wanted to be his friend. But you had to watch what you said around him.
That pisses me off.
He could hear Chelsea's voice in his head.

“Hey, Max.” His mom came walking up to them. She looked bright and smiling, and Max flashed on Daisy. His mom and Daisy looked a lot alike.

“Hey, Mom.”

She turned to Altshuler. “Hello, Kurt. Ready for the big game?”

“Um, yeah. Sure am.” Altshuler was all phony politeness as he straightened up his posture and practically saluted her like a Boy Scout.

“Noah should be here soon,” she said. “We'll be sitting by the bank sign in the usual spot.”

We. Mom and Noah. Max felt a drumming in his chest. “Okay.”

“Good luck, Max-a-megamillion. And I'm sorry to have to do this in front of your friend, but…” She gave him a quick hug and a kiss on his cheek. “Have a great game. You too, Kurt.”

Altshuler stood with his mouth hanging open, watching her go. “Man, your mom is such a MILF.”

“A what?” asked Max.

“A mother I'd like to—”

“Shut up,” Max said, catching on, “or I'll have to hurt you. I swear to God, I will.”

“Ooh, I'm so scared.” Altshuler punctuated his speech by shoving Max's shoulder once, twice, three times. “Bring it, Bellamy. Let's see what you got.”

Max shoved back, knowing he was about to start something but still unable to hold back. Somewhere, way deep in his brain, he knew it was a bad idea to get in a fight before a game. And with a teammate, too. But that knowledge was blotted out by a big red blotch of anger. He made a lunge for Altshuler.

Something held him back. A giant fist, clutching the fabric of his parka stopped him in midlunge and hauled him back.

“Hey, guys,” Noah Shepherd said in a big, hearty voice. “It's about time to gear up.”

Altshuler looked daggers at Max. “That's right, Dr. Shepherd.” He scooped up his bag and stalked away.

“Good luck to you both,” Noah said.

“Thanks,” Max muttered, grabbing his gear and heading for the entrance.

“Hey,” Noah called.

Max stopped and turned. He wondered if this guy thought the same way as Altshuler did about his mom. “Yeah?”

“Whatever it is, save it for the game, Max.”

Sophie felt like a prom queen as she entered the arena with Noah Shepherd at her side. It was a bit juvenile to take such pleasure in swanning about on the arm of the best-looking guy in the place, but she couldn't help herself. She was buoyant with her decision to be in this relationship—to be in love.

They found seats in the bleachers with Daisy, Charlie and Daisy's friend, Julian Gastineaux. Sophie found herself wondering if there was something more to Daisy's friendship with Julian. The two of them seemed unusually attuned to each other, and Daisy's face was aglow. Sophie knew how hard it was to be a young mother and to be in a relationship at the same time. She hoped her daughter would find the balance.

Greg and Nina arrived, offering a polite wave and settling a diplomatic distance away. They were with Nina's sister Maria, who had been so charming to Sophie. She caught some of the other moms looking at her and Noah, and leaning toward each other to whisper.

“My ex,” she murmured to Noah, indicating Greg.

The awkwardness was dispelled by the noise of the crowd and the fast action of the game. Noah merely nodded and turned his attention to the ice. Sophie found herself wishing she could be more like him, accepting things at face value and not caring so much about what anyone thought.

Max was a defenseman, working as a unit with his friend Kurt to protect their goaltender. Max looked so grown-up in his bulky gear, assuming the stance and posture of a professional. Each time an opposing player made a shot, he reacted with lightning reflexes. During the third period, with the score tied, he moved to block a shot, colliding with his teammate, Kurt. Instead of getting back into play, the collision escalated into a shoving match. Sophie jumped to her feet, not that it helped her see any better. Through his mask, Max's face seemed to be red with fury.

The momentary distraction opened a window of opportunity for the opposing team. The puck slammed past the boys and slung into the goal. The crowd erupted, but Max and Kurt found themselves confined to the penalty box, their coach yelling at them.

“What on earth was that?” Sophie asked. “Should I check on him?”

Noah slid his arm around her. “No biggie. They're just being kids.”

After the game, Max went home with his father, Greg promised to talk to him about the incident. Noah walked outside with Sophie. “Go get us some coffee at the concession stand. I'll go find Chelsea and Opal.”

Feeling a bit unsettled, Sophie went to the concession stand, located in the skating house at the edge of the lake. People were skating, admiring the ice sculptures that graced the park. She joined the crowd milling around, and ordered two coffees. And there—
just my luck,
she thought—was Kurt's mother. Ilsa Altshuler offered a tight smile of greeting.

“Well. It's a shame about the game, isn't it?” she commented.

“Definitely,” Sophie agreed. “It's never fun to lose. I know the coach had plenty to say to Max and Kurt about their scuffle, and his father and I will both be talking to him, as well.”

“Kurt will get more than a talking-to from us,” Ilsa stated.

Sophie nodded. “Max will be grounded, too.”

“He should be. He's got to learn to hold his temper.”

Sophie bit the inside of her lower lip, forbidding herself to respond. From her vantage point, it had looked as though Kurt had instigated the scuffle, but the last thing Sophie wanted to do was quibble with this woman. She simply nodded. “Perhaps I'll see you at the festivities this weekend, Ilsa,” she said.

Ilsa offered a sour look. “Maybe. We're planning to go to the dance on Saturday. I saw you with Noah Shepherd,” she remarked. “Our dog, Sammy, is his patient.”

Maybe she was going to play nice, Sophie thought hopefully.

“It's awfully brave of you, dating such a young guy,” Ilsa continued. “I'd be far too self-conscious.”

A young guy? It was true that Sophie didn't know Noah's exact age. The topic had never come up between them. She hadn't asked; she'd asked nothing beyond,
Do you have protection?
before falling into bed with him. Now, for the first time, a niggling doubt crept in through a back door of her mind.