home.”
“And this has what to do with a tooth?”
Both guys winced. “You have no idea how hard it is to get a tooth,” Cooper said. “Apparently she has to work on it twenty-four hours a day and it makes her very pissy.”
“She’s not happy about anything right now,” Landon said. “We’re getting out of there.”
Troy laughed. “Poor Sarah.”
“I did my shift last night,” Cooper said. “If it’s stormy and empty, close early. Six or so?”
“I’ll stay as long as you want me,” Troy said, but he knew if the weather was bad, the bar hardly ever saw business after sunset and sunset came early in February. In football season, there’d be people inside watching the game, but that was past.
“You decide,” Cooper said. “Let’s go, Landon. Have a good day. And thanks.”
By midafternoon there was just one couple in the bar, drinking Bloody Marys and eating sandwiches at a table by the fire. Troy checked the kitchen and dishwasher, but as usual Cooper had left the place spotless and organized. In winter this was a one-man operation, but in summer it took a full crew—there were lots of people on the beach, renting paddleboards and kayaks, eating and drinking, enjoying the bay and lighting fires on the beach at night, a constant flow of customers, sometimes until after ten.
He brought a stool behind the bar and opened his laptop. There was enough information about Grace to fill a book. She even had her own Wikipedia page, as did her wealthy mother, Winnie Dillon Banks, a champion figure skater before her. There was a half brother, twenty years her senior, a child of her father’s by a previous marriage. One article explained the many ways people managed the expensive training without being wealthy, but such sponsors were difficult to come by before the athlete had at least come very close to winning major competitions. And to his surprise, the number of moneyed US and world medalists was quite small. Most of them, in fact the best known among them, had hardworking parents who got up at four in the morning to drive them long distances to rinks where the best coach could be found. Some moved to accommodate their young champions.
By late afternoon the rain hit the deck outside and the last couple left, and he could get back to his research. Grace and her parents moved a few times; her father was sought after and drew a handsome coaching salary. He did not train Grace’s competitors, however. His income and notoriety, in addition to Winnie’s old family wealth, was a huge advantage for her. She didn’t make the cut for the 2006 Winter Games and there was some talk of moving her to another country. Obviously they hadn’t moved.
Lord, who was this girl?
He looked up Winnie Dillon Banks. There were dozens of pictures and all Troy could surmise from them was that she looked rich and cold. Many pictures of her watching her daughter skate in competition had her with a frozen face, wearing furs and diamonds.
That’s when he knew they hadn’t exactly fallen out over a flower shop. His best guess was that Winnie disapproved of her daughter leaving competition while she was still young enough to train and win.
He looked up figure skating training. It was typical to be on skates by four years old. Six hours on the ice every day, endurance and weight training, ballet and gymnastics, school or, in Grace’s case, tutors. Add in travel to every competition that would take her—first Nationals and then World Championships. He looked up international ice-skating championships. Jesus, she’d been to almost every country on the globe.
He watched a couple of YouTube videos of her skating, a long program and a short program, one when she was only sixteen and competing in Seoul. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. She looked just the same. Did no one ever remark on her likeness to a women’s figure skating champion? Her skill and beauty on the ice was nothing short of breathtaking.
Next on
“And this has what to do with a tooth?”
Both guys winced. “You have no idea how hard it is to get a tooth,” Cooper said. “Apparently she has to work on it twenty-four hours a day and it makes her very pissy.”
“She’s not happy about anything right now,” Landon said. “We’re getting out of there.”
Troy laughed. “Poor Sarah.”
“I did my shift last night,” Cooper said. “If it’s stormy and empty, close early. Six or so?”
“I’ll stay as long as you want me,” Troy said, but he knew if the weather was bad, the bar hardly ever saw business after sunset and sunset came early in February. In football season, there’d be people inside watching the game, but that was past.
“You decide,” Cooper said. “Let’s go, Landon. Have a good day. And thanks.”
By midafternoon there was just one couple in the bar, drinking Bloody Marys and eating sandwiches at a table by the fire. Troy checked the kitchen and dishwasher, but as usual Cooper had left the place spotless and organized. In winter this was a one-man operation, but in summer it took a full crew—there were lots of people on the beach, renting paddleboards and kayaks, eating and drinking, enjoying the bay and lighting fires on the beach at night, a constant flow of customers, sometimes until after ten.
He brought a stool behind the bar and opened his laptop. There was enough information about Grace to fill a book. She even had her own Wikipedia page, as did her wealthy mother, Winnie Dillon Banks, a champion figure skater before her. There was a half brother, twenty years her senior, a child of her father’s by a previous marriage. One article explained the many ways people managed the expensive training without being wealthy, but such sponsors were difficult to come by before the athlete had at least come very close to winning major competitions. And to his surprise, the number of moneyed US and world medalists was quite small. Most of them, in fact the best known among them, had hardworking parents who got up at four in the morning to drive them long distances to rinks where the best coach could be found. Some moved to accommodate their young champions.
By late afternoon the rain hit the deck outside and the last couple left, and he could get back to his research. Grace and her parents moved a few times; her father was sought after and drew a handsome coaching salary. He did not train Grace’s competitors, however. His income and notoriety, in addition to Winnie’s old family wealth, was a huge advantage for her. She didn’t make the cut for the 2006 Winter Games and there was some talk of moving her to another country. Obviously they hadn’t moved.
Lord, who was this girl?
He looked up Winnie Dillon Banks. There were dozens of pictures and all Troy could surmise from them was that she looked rich and cold. Many pictures of her watching her daughter skate in competition had her with a frozen face, wearing furs and diamonds.
That’s when he knew they hadn’t exactly fallen out over a flower shop. His best guess was that Winnie disapproved of her daughter leaving competition while she was still young enough to train and win.
He looked up figure skating training. It was typical to be on skates by four years old. Six hours on the ice every day, endurance and weight training, ballet and gymnastics, school or, in Grace’s case, tutors. Add in travel to every competition that would take her—first Nationals and then World Championships. He looked up international ice-skating championships. Jesus, she’d been to almost every country on the globe.
He watched a couple of YouTube videos of her skating, a long program and a short program, one when she was only sixteen and competing in Seoul. It was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. She looked just the same. Did no one ever remark on her likeness to a women’s figure skating champion? Her skill and beauty on the ice was nothing short of breathtaking.
Next on
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