She glanced at the clock, and dialed Freda’s number at work. “Freda? First of all, could you babysit for me tomorrow night at seven, and second, what do you know about hockey?”
“First of all, I might just be able to cancel my seven hot dates tomorrow night so I can babysit, and second-” Freda hesitated “-I’m fairly certain that’s the game that involves the puck and the hockey stick.”
“I knew that.”
“So what is it you want to know?” Freda added dryly. “Hockey players are the ones who always look as if they just left a dark alley at midnight and lost.”
“Not helpful.” Lorna sighed. “Now I assume the Red Wings are from Detroit, but where do the Blackhawks come from?”
“Toronto?” Freda suggested.
“I need a definite answer.”
“Minnesota.”
“If you think I’m going to continue to ask you questions at this rate-”
“I wouldn’t,” Freda agreed.
“Did you save last night’s sports section?”
“Of course not. I use that to wrap the garbage.”
“So do I,” Lorna said sadly.
Chapter 9
“Chicago. The Blackhawks are from Chicago,” Johnny said disgustedly. “And you don’t go to a hockey game dressed like that, Mom. For Pete’s sake. Don’t you know anything?”
“What’s wrong with this skirt?” Lorna demanded.
“Everything. It’s not jeans. Hockey arenas are dirty. And cold. Like, you get hot dogs without napkins,” Johnny explained, as if that illustrated his point.
Actually, it did. Lorna stared at her closet. She couldn’t conceive of wearing jeans to meet a potential colleague of Matthew’s. Nor had Johnny ever given her a single reason in nine years to trust his judgment in clothes. She just had a terrible feeling that this was the single occasion on which she should trust him. He was the only one of the two of them who had ever been to a hockey game.
Deciding to follow a middle road, she took off the skirt and pulled on caramel-colored wool slacks and a silky cream blouse.
Johnny sighed. “The pants will get dirty, and you’re going to freeze in that blouse.”
“You’re due next door,” Lorna said sternly. She pulled on a lacy cream sweater over the blouse and looked at him.
He nodded. “Whatever happened to playing the field?”
“What field?” she asked, bewildered.
“Since when are you only seeing one guy? I thought we were going to go see those horses of what’s-his-name.”
“Stan.”
“Whatever. He was nice.”
And Stan had a stable of horses whereas Matthew had scolded Johnny for breaking the window. Actually, Matthew had two strikes against him in her son’s eyes. A long time back, Johnny had encouraged his mother to date because he wanted a father, but it never seemed to have occurred to him at the time that such a man would have the right to touch Lorna. She understood the psychology, but it was the first time she’d walked the tightrope of putting theory into practice. It would be nice if someone would just promise her that Johnny would get past those psychological barriers and love Matthew. Because if he didn’t…
“What about the horses?” Johnny asked impatiently.
“I loved horses until I was twelve,” Lorna told him. “Then I finally got close to one, offered it a lump of sugar and felt the horse bite down on my fingers so hard I thought they were broken.” She walked over, pressed a kiss on her son’s head and picked up her purse. “Did you tell Brian he could sleep here tomorrow night?”
Matthew’s neophyte lawyer had sandy hair, an all-American smile and the name of Aaron Granger. His girl, Becky, was shy, clearly terrified of displeasing Matthew and an ardent sports enthusiast. As Lorna slid into the pale gray sedan that Matthew drove on such occasions, she noted, not particularly happily, that the three of them were dressed in jeans and heavy sweaters.
Sports was obviously to be the topic of conversation, and Matthew was sadistic enough to immediately promote Lorna as an ardent hockey fan.
It was an hour’s drive to the Red Wings’ arena in Detroit. A week before Christmas, houses were lit up with sparkling lights; Christmas trees reflected from picture windows onto the freshly fallen snow. Shopping malls advertised the season with illuminated displays. Crass commercialism, Lorna thought idly, and loved every minute of it. Occasionally, she glanced at Matthew, who had barely had a chance to say two words to her. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a preoccupation in his expression that he was trying to pretend wasn’t there. He looked remote and handsome in a thick fisherman’s sweater, his dark hair brushing the collar. Intuitively, she got on his wavelength. He needed her this evening; that was a first. He wanted to know about Aaron but was honestly in no mood to play convivial host.
“And did you see that save in the last period of the Bruins game last Friday?” Aaron said from the back seat.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Lorna said truthfully.
Detroit was always its own Christmas tree; its skyscrapers lit up at night like a promise against loneliness. Matthew drove farther and farther away from the lights, into the darker part of town. By the time they parked, Lorna was frankly bewildered. One carried a mace bomb or weapon in this neighborhood. She wasn’t prepared.
Matthew took her hand as they walked, and never let go. She thought idly that as the senior member of a law firm, he should really be more…circumspect. Proper. They were the mature pair in the foursome. Yet he hooked his arm around her shoulder as they entered the arena, hugging her close. Amid the crowd, she took the singular occasion to pat his fanny scoldingly. His husky chuckle made her glance around worriedly.
The stands were steeply tiered; hot dogs were sold without napkins, just as Johnny had warned her. The game was just starting as they squeezed past a couple to get to their seats. Lorna found herself between Matthew and Aaron, and studied the oval of ice below with deadly intensity. The whole playing area was screened by a fence that checkerboarded her vision.
“Face-off,” Becky said enthusiastically.
“Sure is!” Lorna nibbled at her hot dog, praying it would warm her up. The place was kept at what felt like a subzero temperature. She vowed never to doubt her son again. Freezing, she kept her coat over her shoulders, noted that a face-off took place in the center of the ice and carefully did her best to evaluate Aaron Granger for Matthew.
Aaron was summa cum laude, University of Michigan. He and Becky planned to marry…
A light flashed on over the ice. The crowd stood up and roared. Lorna did, too. “Did you believe that?” Aaron shouted to her.
“Incredible!”
“This soon in the game!”
“Well, you know the Red Wings,” Lorna suggested brightly.
Matthew turned to stare at her. She stared just as deliberately straight ahead, discovering their team had made a goal. It really wasn’t so hard. The goalie sat there by the net, looking like a gorilla, lunging when the puck came near him. The other players skated wildly, passing around the little puck. The spectators appeared to love every action by the home team. Their enthusiasm was catching. They stood up and screamed for everything. Probably trying to keep warm.
Keeping her eyes on the ice, Lorna learned that Aaron had seen absolutely nothing of life, put Becky on a pedestal that was frighteningly high and had gone through college on a sports scholarship. He had decided to go to law school mainly because he wanted to earn a big salary.