Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad gig after all. “Are you a fan?”
“All my life.” She reached under the desk and pulled out a vintage jersey. The Bobcat’s current jersey was green and white, but the one in GJ’s hands was black with a mean-looking striped cat smoking a cigar in the middle. “My first boyfriend, Clarence, was the captain.”
I touched the sleeve of the wool jersey. “This is awesome. You wouldn’t get away with a logo like that these days.”
GJ rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. They don’t even do the outhouse race right anymore.”
“Outhouse race?” My brow furrowed, imagining…well, a lot of flying shit. “Sounds messy.”
Her laugh was that of a lifelong smoker, hoarse and hacky. “It was total carnage back in the day.”
Edward, the bellman, appeared at my side. “You better do a better job of explaining that contest, Janie. The boy here has probably never been to a small-town winter carnival.”
I shrugged. “It’s true. I’ve never been in a small town at Christmas.”
GJ clapped her hands together. “You’re in for a treat. It’s the best time of year. The community comes together, there’s caroling, we make taffy on the snow, the whole town goes to the hockey game—”
“The outhouse race,” Edward interrupted. “You were explaining that one.”
Evie hinted that she was worried that GJ was forgetting things, and it was clear that Edward had noticed the same phenomenon. I didn’t mind, I would’ve listened to her rattle off all the events, knowing that I would never attend a single one of them.
“Right.” GJ snapped her fingers. “The contestants built a shitter.” Her cheeks reddened, “I mean, an outhouse out of whatever they could find, put it on skis, and sent it down the mountain.” She pointed in the distance to where I assumed a mountain stood. “Whoever made it to the bottom in one piece won.”
“So, the outhouse isn’t operating, or full of any kind of…” My voice trailed off.
GJ slapped the desk. “No. I can see why you looked so horrified. Nowadays, they run down a gradual incline, holding onto the damn thing. The safety police took all the fun out of it.”
Edward grunted. “Debbie Millman broke her pelvis, and the next year her brother Dwayne needed seventeen stitches after the race. There’s a reason they switched it up.”
GJ swatted her hand at Edward. “Anyway, there are lots of fun activities this week.” She took a pamphlet from theplastic holder on the counter. “Here’s the list of events.” She set the sweater aside and took a wooden circle on a piece of twine from the drawer. “Here’s a pass. This will get you into everything, even the hockey games.”
My heart sank for the old lady. Had she already forgotten our conversation?
“Oh, where is my head? You’re the star!”
Relieved, I took a deep breath. “Thank you, GJ, but Christmas isn’t really my thing. Please give this to someone who will use it.”
She blinked. “You’re not going to the carnival?”
“I’ll be busy practicing hockey. There won’t be any time.” It was easier than explaining that I hated Christmas. I’d rather ride down a mountain in a fully functioning porta-john than be anywhere there might be caroling.
“Of course, dear. Here’s your key. You go get some rest. I’ve got a lot of money on the Christmas game.”
“For Pete’s sake, Janie. Leave the man alone. There’s no betting allowed on the games anymore.”
GJ clicked her tongue. “You see, they’re ruining all the fun.”
If GJ was this wild in what appeared to be her eighties, I wondered what twenty-five-year-old Janie was like, running around Chance Rapids, betting on hockey games and cheering on death traps as they careened down a mountain.
I took the old-fashioned skeleton key. “What’s my room number?”
“You’re in the penthouse.” GJ smiled. “I gave you an upgrade. My brother will take your bag.”
Before Edward could reach for the straps I hoisted the duffel bag on my shoulder. “I’ve got it, but I’ll need help with this key.” I handed it to Edward. “Could you help me with this?”
“Of course, Mr. Tinsel.” Edward took the key and shuffled to the stairwell. “Follow me.”
“Enjoy your stay, Nicky.”
