Cole looked irritated. “Sal is the sports version of a used car salesman—always preparing to pitch you the next deal as if it’s the best thing since sliced bread.”
“As far as I can tell, a lot of you sports pros believe you are the best thing since sliced bread.”
They were skimming the surface of the deep lake of emotion and past history between them. Every encounter with Cole was an emotional wringer. You’d think she’d be used to it by now or at least expecting it.
Cole shrugged. “Hockey is a job.”
“So is teaching.”
“It’s the reason you made your way back to Pershing.”
“The school was good to me.” She shifted and then picked up her handbag.
Cole didn’t move. “I’ll bet. How long have you been teaching there?”
“I started right after college, so not quite ten years.” She took a step toward the door and then paused. “It took me more than five years and several part-time jobs to get my degree and provisional teaching certificate at U. Mass. Amherst.”
She could see she’d surprised him. She’d gone to a state school, where the tuition had been lower and she’d qualified for a scholarship. Even then, though, because she’d been more or less self-supporting, it had taken a while to get her degree. She’d worked an odd and endless assortment of jobs: telemarketer, door-to-door sales rep, supermarket checkout clerk and receptionist.
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