[Comments]
WhitneyReddford: I think we all know the answer to that question.
BruceLowe: It would be a lot more productive to talk about local sports, particularly hockey, rather than spread rumors.
CaraBadaszekArsenault: Then you’ll definitely want to check out the Puck Post today,BruceLowe.
MarshaSimmons:I’m still happy to make a platter or dessert if anyone knows who needs some TLC. This time of year can be tough for some people. Elvis even wrote a song about it.
BarrySmeltz: Not everything can be solved with food or music. The content in the Cobbiton Daily Caller isn’t journalism, though. I wrote a book called Attack of the Voalcan Army and it’s available now! But before that, I had the crime beat in Lincoln, and let me tell you what real reporting looks like.
JessieDunnO’Conner:I beg to differBarrySmeltz! Food brings people together. Ever been to a party and noticed all the guests are gathered in the kitchen?
TaylorTipton: Please don’t tell us what real reporting looks like,BarrySmeltz. We hear enough about your book as it is.
LeahSmithRoboveitchek: I’m trying to be charitable (‘tis the season!), but consider this your second warning this month,BarrySmeltz. Three strikes and you’re suspended.
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CHAPTER 14
BREE
I can’t stop thinkingabout the cookie-baking event. The way Fletch’s eyes crinkled when he laughed. The warmth of his hands as he guided mine through rolling the perfect gingersnap balls. The flutter in my stomach when we found ourselves in a food fight and the moment we shared afterward.
None of it was real, I remind myself as we drive through the steadily falling snow. We’re delivering holiday meals to families in need throughout the county—something I wouldn’t have imagined myself doing a month ago, no less with Fletch … my husband!
“You do so much volunteering. Is this just a regular week in the life of Fletch Turley?” I ask, watching him navigate the increasingly treacherous roads with confidence.
“When I can. My schedule is a lot different during the season, er, when I’m not sidelined. Travel, extra practices, meetings, and games. It doesn’t leave much time. But I always step it up around this time of year. This December, I have extra time on my hands, so I’m trying to give more, you know?” He squints through the windshield as the wipers struggle to keepup with the snowfall. “But I admit that this year I wasn’t feeling it at first.”
“Yeah, sure, Buddy the Elf.”
He chuckles, but his eyes dim.
“Me neither. Not that I’d be Buddy’s twin or anything even in the best of times.”
“You mean wife?”
I snort a laugh. “But seriously, you’re super generous and you make it a priority.”
His shrug is the kind that comes from someone who is humble and not the showboat I remember from college.
He says, “Community matters. My dad always said we play for the name on the front of the jersey, not the back.”
“So are all of the Turleys hockey fans?”
“We have a football zealot, a soccer fanatic, a golf aficionado, and a pickleball champ. Thankfully, Mom ismynumber one fan.”
I take that to mean he’s the lone hockey player. “That is so adorably sweet.”
Part of me wants to compare Mrs. Turley to my mother, which would only cause me to be a step away from feeling bad about myself. Instead, I want to know the woman who raised this man—not exactly the guy I pegged him for back in college when he said what became those famous six words, which have somehow resulted in our current reality.
The snowfall intensifies, transforming the countryside from a charming backdrop to a legitimate hazard. After delivering our final meal to an elderly couple, Fletch pulls over, frowning at his phone after it buzzes.
“Weather alert. They’re closing the roads.”
