brought her in for a close embrace.
Time stood still for Noel. Suddenly, it wasn’t Webb and Constance she was seeing, but Nickolai and some elusive child with dark hair and electric blue eyes. Her heart went into a tailspin.
But a voice from the television brought her back to reality. “And Glazov scores! The Sound is finally on the board!” She’d missed it, but she saw him with his stick raised above his head, surrounded by his teammates. The period ended, and Noel finally threaded her needle and picked up Constance’s dress.
Webb and Paige took Constance up to bed and returned as the second period started. Webb sat at his desk and opened his laptop. No, no, he assured everyone. The game and their conversation wouldn’t bother him.
And the conversation continued. Of course it did. There was a bridal tea next week for the Bartholomew boy’s fiancée, and Mindy Bartholomew didn’t like her. Lisa Lawrence was pregnant again, and everyone was hopeful because this time she’d made it through the first trimester. Noel finally gave up and joined in. Might as well, though she sewed and kept an eye on the television. It was a dog-eat-dog game. Sound wing, Jan Voleck, went to the penalty box for fighting but didn’t stay long because the Devils scored on the power play, tying the game. Then the Devils scored again, and Bryant Taylor tied it up for the Sound. And, through it all, until the end of the period, Nickolai was everywhere—shooting, assisting, and slamming Devils into the boards.
The third period was a frenzied study in frustration—until the midway point when Nickolai scored again. This time Noel didn’t miss it, and she jumped to her feet and applauded, causing a halt to the discussion of the American Girl fashion show the Junior League was planning.
“My, Noel,” Grandmama said. “You certainly are excited.”
“If the Sound wins, they go to the playoffs,” Webb said from behind his computer. “Could mean the Stanley Cup.”
“And that’s Glaz’s second goal of the night! Could he get a hat trick?” the announcer said.
And the answer to that was yes. Nickolai’s third goal came with two minutes left on the clock. The siren blasted and hats sailed onto the ice—not as many as there would have been on home ice, of course, but a decent number.
“Why are those people throwing their hats away?” Paige asked.
Noel clutched her heart and swallowed her tears. “He scored a third goal. It’s called a hat trick. Fans throw their hats on the ice.”
“Why is it called a hat trick?”
Noel laughed. “You know, I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. Do you know, Webb?”
Webb laughed a little, too. “No. I might need to look that up later.”
“I wouldn’t want to throw my hat,” Paige said and went back to her magazine.
You would if you were in love with a hockey player.
Noel wished she were wearing a hat so she could throw it. Maybe she’d do that when she and Nickolai watched the game together later. He would laugh.
Two minutes was a long time to play hockey, but, though the Devils scored again, time ran out.
With a 4–3 win, the Sound was going to the playoffs.
“Well, that’s that,” Deborah said. “I thought I might serve a little second dessert before we go to bed. Bad, of course, but Noel’s lemon tarts were so good, and Webb didn’t have any. Shall we move to the parlor?” She held her hand out for the remote that Noel held.
“Wait!” Noel jerked the remote from her mother’s reach and turned up the volume. The reporter had caught Nickolai as he came off the ice. “Be quiet!”
He was out of breath, sweating, and his hair curled around the edges of his helmet.
“There’s our guy!”
her naughty bits cheered.
“He’s delicious. Get up and go to New Jersey! Try to get there before he showers!”
“Shut up! I want to hear what he says.”
Miraculously, the Verden women were silent and had directed their attention to the television. Webb even
Time stood still for Noel. Suddenly, it wasn’t Webb and Constance she was seeing, but Nickolai and some elusive child with dark hair and electric blue eyes. Her heart went into a tailspin.
But a voice from the television brought her back to reality. “And Glazov scores! The Sound is finally on the board!” She’d missed it, but she saw him with his stick raised above his head, surrounded by his teammates. The period ended, and Noel finally threaded her needle and picked up Constance’s dress.
Webb and Paige took Constance up to bed and returned as the second period started. Webb sat at his desk and opened his laptop. No, no, he assured everyone. The game and their conversation wouldn’t bother him.
And the conversation continued. Of course it did. There was a bridal tea next week for the Bartholomew boy’s fiancée, and Mindy Bartholomew didn’t like her. Lisa Lawrence was pregnant again, and everyone was hopeful because this time she’d made it through the first trimester. Noel finally gave up and joined in. Might as well, though she sewed and kept an eye on the television. It was a dog-eat-dog game. Sound wing, Jan Voleck, went to the penalty box for fighting but didn’t stay long because the Devils scored on the power play, tying the game. Then the Devils scored again, and Bryant Taylor tied it up for the Sound. And, through it all, until the end of the period, Nickolai was everywhere—shooting, assisting, and slamming Devils into the boards.
The third period was a frenzied study in frustration—until the midway point when Nickolai scored again. This time Noel didn’t miss it, and she jumped to her feet and applauded, causing a halt to the discussion of the American Girl fashion show the Junior League was planning.
“My, Noel,” Grandmama said. “You certainly are excited.”
“If the Sound wins, they go to the playoffs,” Webb said from behind his computer. “Could mean the Stanley Cup.”
“And that’s Glaz’s second goal of the night! Could he get a hat trick?” the announcer said.
And the answer to that was yes. Nickolai’s third goal came with two minutes left on the clock. The siren blasted and hats sailed onto the ice—not as many as there would have been on home ice, of course, but a decent number.
“Why are those people throwing their hats away?” Paige asked.
Noel clutched her heart and swallowed her tears. “He scored a third goal. It’s called a hat trick. Fans throw their hats on the ice.”
“Why is it called a hat trick?”
Noel laughed. “You know, I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. Do you know, Webb?”
Webb laughed a little, too. “No. I might need to look that up later.”
“I wouldn’t want to throw my hat,” Paige said and went back to her magazine.
You would if you were in love with a hockey player.
Noel wished she were wearing a hat so she could throw it. Maybe she’d do that when she and Nickolai watched the game together later. He would laugh.
Two minutes was a long time to play hockey, but, though the Devils scored again, time ran out.
With a 4–3 win, the Sound was going to the playoffs.
“Well, that’s that,” Deborah said. “I thought I might serve a little second dessert before we go to bed. Bad, of course, but Noel’s lemon tarts were so good, and Webb didn’t have any. Shall we move to the parlor?” She held her hand out for the remote that Noel held.
“Wait!” Noel jerked the remote from her mother’s reach and turned up the volume. The reporter had caught Nickolai as he came off the ice. “Be quiet!”
He was out of breath, sweating, and his hair curled around the edges of his helmet.
“There’s our guy!”
her naughty bits cheered.
“He’s delicious. Get up and go to New Jersey! Try to get there before he showers!”
“Shut up! I want to hear what he says.”
Miraculously, the Verden women were silent and had directed their attention to the television. Webb even
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