Richelle’s face fell. “Yes, Mommy.”
“You can take your skates off and change in the car. I’m parked in the usual spot.”
Stepping off the ice, Richelle collected her skate guards and waved goodbye.
“Go, I’m right behind you.” Her mother urged her forward. “Mr. Welch, please make sure you’re on time next time. I pay you for a thirty-minute skating lesson, not thirty-one minutes.”
Charlie’s lip curled. His shoulders stiffened. “Yes, ma’am.”
Richelle’s mother nodded and took her leave.
“Rude much?”
“She’s a tiger mom.” Charlie shrugged. “Thanks again for the help. I’m late for my next lesson.”
“No problem. Always happy to help.”
He didn’t wait for any sign of acknowledgment as he rushed off to a teenage boy who appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen years old.
Maybe Charlie was only good with kids?Hmm . . . the mystery continues.
* * *
On Tuesday, Leslie gave Frankie the green light to lead the level-five class. Her work with Richelle had boosted her confidence. She felt more than prepared.
“After you turn, you’re going to kick the leg, just like you’re aiming for a soccer ball. Then, you jump.”
She skated up and down the line of teenage and adult students practicing their Salchows, the first single jump most skaters learned. A warm, fuzzy feeling gripped hold. These students were here because they had chosen skating. Their positive attitudes and encouragement for one another were infectious. Frankie hoped she’d be able to continue working with the adults.
Class ended a few minutes later. Leslie and Frankie skated to the boards for a drink of water and to collect the roster for the last class of the evening.
“You’re really settling into coaching. I’m impressed. You’re both patient and confident with the students. It’s all about finding the right words to explain what to do. People think that it’s easier to work with higher-level skaters, but it’s not. There are so many more components to work on, like dealing with frustration. Take the adult class, for instance—”
Leslie stopped talking as a student approached them, her blade making a loud scraping noise. “Hi, Leah; did you forget something?” Frankie asked.
Leah shook her head. “No. Mr. Charlie was by the door and asked if I could grab you. He said it would be quick.”
Frankie glanced over Leah’s shoulder. She noticed the skating program’s director lurking in the shadows.
“You can tell him I’ll be there in one second.”
“Okay.” She glided back to the exit.
“He couldn’t wait thirty minutes?” Leslie rolled her eyes. “Tell him you only have two minutes. The next class starts in ten.”
Frankie shrugged, wondering what Charlie could need. He didn’t normally stay at the rink so late since he was on the ice first thing in the morning. She stepped off the ice and got a good look at Charlie, his hands in his pockets. There were dark purple shadows under his eyes. Messy strands of curly hair poked out at odd angles from under his signature beanie.
He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a while.
He nodded to her. “Frankie.”
“Charlie.” She swallowed hard. “Leah said you had something to talk to me about?”
His voice came out raspy. “I wanted to know if your offer to help me out still stands?”
“Of course.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Are you able to stay after your last class tonight? I understand if you can’t.”
