Jase by MariaLisa deMora Page B

assurance that he made it into town and would be ready and prepared this afternoon as he promised. His mind was circling the coming events, trying to shove down his nervousness not only about speaking in front of a gathering of people, but about the funeral itself. H e had never attended one as an adult and wasn’t sure what to expect.
    He headed inside and placed his order, then strolled down to the other end of the line to wait for his coffee. Glancing around the small shop, he was surprised to see Anita seated at one of the tables, her eyes on the laptop in front of her. Asking the girl behind the counter for another of whatever she was drinking, he bought the frothy cup of mocha-something and picked up both mugs.
    Slipping into the seat opposite her, he grinned when without looking up, she told him, “Gimme a sec, I have to get this uploaded.” He was surprised, because he didn’t think she saw him come in, and when she finally glanced up from the computer, the shock on her face was nearly comical. She said, “You’re not Bernadette.”
    He laughed, handing over the mug of coffee. “Nope, ‘ fraid not. Sorry to disappoint, Anita.”
    She wrinkled up her nose at him, half-standing and reaching across the table for a quick hug. “Jase Spencer, I didn’t think I’d see you in here.”
    “Could say the same, Nita.” He settled into his seat, sipping his coffee. “How are you holding up, hon?”
    With that question, all the humor fled her face and her lips twisted down. It was as if for a moment she had been able to forget her father’s death, and then his inquiry brought it crashing back down on her. “I’m so sorry,” he said, reaching across awkwardly to cover her hand with his.
    She shook her head, waving a hand at him and picking up her mug of coffee. “It’s…thanks, Jase.” She sighed, reaching with her other hand to close the laptop. “I can’t believe he’s gone, eh?” Seemingly impervious to the heat of the liquid, she took a large drink from the mug. “Thank you so much for coming on such short notice. He sure thought you hung the moon. He would be glad to see you back home.”
    Jase nodded. “It was a mutual admiration society, wasn’t it? I wouldn’t be where I am now if it weren't for Coach. He helped keep me focus on what was important, letting all the rest float past. I thought the world of him.”
    “And he knew it, Jase. You’d come home for a visit and he loved that you always made time for him. You always made a point of coming to see him at the icehouse, and it’d get the boys fired up for weeks, because the great Jase Spencer talked to them.” She laughed, sipping more slowly at the coffee. “He milked those visits for a long time, would tell the boys you called to check up on one or the other of them. It worked to get everyone to dig a little deeper, work a little harder.”
    Jase laughed. “Yeah, but I did call.”
    She cocked her head to one side, a puzzled look on her face. “You called to check on the kids?”
    “Well, yeah,” he said as if it was the only reasonable thing to do. “They were good boys; some of them had talent out the wazoo. Like Coach taught me, it’s never too early to evaluate the competition.”
    She gave him a brief smile, but it faded too quickly. “Were you out running?”
    He nodded, sipping from his mug. “Wanted to get a good run in. It’s offseason, but you never stop conditioning, eh?”
    “How are Jacque and Kenny doing?” She smiled when she asked about his parents, and he remembered she had been friends with his little sister at one time.
    “Good, real good. Da’s busy with the firm.”
    He paused to take a sip, surprised when she said, “As usual.”
    “I keep forgetting you know them from before.” Leaning forward, he tapped one finger on the laptop. “College?”
    “Work, actually.” She smiled. “I cover girls hockey and the local ice scene for a couple of papers.”
    “No way. You’re a sports reporter? When