Her Family's Defender. Kim Findlay

“I’ll speak up if she becomes a problem.”

      Michelle sensed that there was something going on here that she didn’t understand. But they were entering the condo garage and there wasn’t any more opportunity to press him further.

      * * *

      TROY TOOK ADVANTAGE of Angie’s openness to find out when he might be able to speak to Michelle privately. Angie was still young enough to think it was perfectly normal for a relative stranger to be curious about her family’s schedule. She’d mentioned there was a window of time after she and Tommy went to bed when Michelle studied.

      So tonight he’d skipped out on going to the bar with some of the guys after the game and headed to her condo.

      He rapped quietly on the door. He waited a moment, impatiently, and was about to knock again when she opened the door.

      She had her hair knotted up on her head, and some glasses on. She was wearing a shirt and pants that looked comfortable and worn—probably pajamas. There were shadows under her eyes, and he hoped he could make this work to take away some of her worry. If his plan failed, she probably wouldn’t want anything more to do with him. He tried not to acknowledge how much that idea bothered him.

      “Anything wrong?” she asked.

      “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

      She paused and then pulled the door all the way open.

      There were textbooks on the island and a glass of wine, mostly empty. The kids’ stuff was strewn around, too, in contrast to his condo, which the cleaners kept in pretty good shape. Troy decided that he appreciated a bit of disorder. It was relaxing; it felt like a real family home, not a magazine spread or a show home.

      Michelle picked up her glass and lifted it toward him. He shook his head. He wasn’t a wine drinker. His dad had always called wine a woman’s drink, and the attitude had survived. He could drink wine at a dinner, but his preference was beer, or bourbon. He doubted Michelle would have either on hand, though. He had plenty stocked up at his place, and if this conversation didn’t go his way, he’d need some once he slunk home.

      Michelle carried her glass over to the couch and curled up. She took a sip of wine and waited for him to join her.

      Troy sat in an easy chair and leaned forward. He took a moment to marshal his arguments.

      “I don’t want you to get mad, but after I saw how well Angie did last week, playing hockey, I talked to the team’s management.”

      That was mostly true, except that he’d talked to them before he saw Angie play.

      Michelle put her glass down. She looked like she might get mad anyway, so Troy rushed on.

      “I thought it was a shame that she had to give up playing. So I asked if the team’s club had any kind of program for kids. It turns out they do have something for vet’s kids. Angie told me both you and her dad were in the Forces. It’s some kind of bequest thing, and they don’t publicize it, but there’s some money there. So I talked to them about Angie, and they can help.”

      Michelle didn’t yell at him, or throw anything. So far, so good.

      “I know this wasn’t really my place, but I talked to the coach of that team Angie wanted to play for, and he’ll allow her a tryout. I know she can make it—she’s a good little skater.

      “The team gave me this card.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gift card for the hockey store he’d been told was most reasonable price-wise. He tossed the gift card onto the coffee table in front of her.

      “This bequest covers equipment and fees with the team. I’ll let the club know if she makes the cut, and they’ll send the money directly to the team. The coach wants Angie there Saturday morning.”

      Michelle stared at the card, and then back at him. Troy figured he’d go for broke.

      “Now, here’s where I got a little pushy, I’m afraid. I just landed a sponsorship deal that includes a new truck. I don’t want to sell my old truck, ’cause I like it, but I’m supposed to drive this other one till spring for the publicity. Mrs. Epps always let me use her extra parking stall for this kind of thing, so I thought, if I was parking that truck in her spot all winter, well, you could use it for hockey. Keep it from sitting cold, battery dying, that kind of thing.