Two discreet waitstaff in starched white button downs and black pants stood at the buffet, which had to hold twenty different chafing dishes. Lola returned with my glass of wine, and I took a long sip, needing to quench my thirst—and fortify my nerve.
“My season-ticket seats are nothing like this. They’re near the team benches.” She pointed. “I like it down there because the crowd energy is awesome. And I don’t worry I’ll break something.”
I nodded. “I’m definitely freaking out about that now.”
“Don’t.” She took a sip of her iced green tea—a very good choice considering her current health. “Gunnar’s super laid back. He’s not going to grind you up and spit you out for dropping a plate.”
“No, I’m not, and I appreciate the kind words, Lola,” came a voice from behind us.
I turned to find a tall, fit man in his late forties with the palest eyes—like glaciers. He wore a dark suit with a Wildcatters tie, a seemingly playful nod for such a hard-faced man.
Lola set her drink in the cupholder on her chair and hugged Gunnar. I set my drink down so I didn’t drop it. That was wise because when the Wildcatters owner turned his flinty gaze toward me, I quaked.
“I hear you’re taking care of Lola as she goes through her treatment.”
“I am.” I offered him my hand. “Vivian Lee.”
His handshake was as firm and no-nonsense as I’d expected it to be. “You’re also the one Cruz has been pining for the past few months.” Gunnar leaned in closer, his voice low and soft enough to be just for my ears. “He needs you more than you know.”
I sucked in my breath. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I hope you will. And I hope you’re as kind as he made you out to be. Lennon’s one of a few truly special men. I’d like to keep him around for many more years so he can mentor and mold the young ones who are all about bravado and pissing contests.” Gunnar scowled. “It’s a struggle to find integrity these days.”
“I know,” I said. “Some of the surgeons I’ve worked with do the job for money and prestige, not to save lives.”
Gunnar looked out over the arena. “I believe in honor and integrity, Vivian. I also believe like finds like.” Those glacial eyes met mine again. This man was hard, but I could see why Lola liked him. He was fair, decent, but he’d be ruthless to get what he wanted.
“I’ll remember that,” I said.
He smiled as he stepped back. “I know.”
When he sauntered off to talk to other people in the suite, I stifled a gasp. “Is that…?”
“It is,” Lola said. “I’ve never been brave enough to go up and say hello.”
“And that’s…” My voice cracked. I shook my head. “I guess I should have realized a hockey team owner is really rich and he would know other really rich, famous people.”
“It’s an alternate world,” Lola said. She perked up with a smile. “The ladies are here.”
I turned just in time to be enveloped in Hana’s hug. “I’m so, so mad you didn’t come to my wedding, but I understand. When we were in San Francisco, I hadn’t realized your Lennon was our Cruz.”
I cringed. Because I’d made a point not to tell her.
“Those hockey boys refuse to use most of their first names.” Lola smiled at a petite blonde with a high ponytail and paint-spattered jeans and Converse. She reminded me of an approachable cheerleader. “Except Maxim and Cormac,” Lola continued. “What did they do to get the men to call them by their first names?”
The woman shrugged. “No clue about Cormac. You’d have to ask him or Keelie. And I probably don’t wanna know.” Her accent was thick and sweet, like molasses. “Hi, I’m Ida Jane Dolov,” she said, offering me her hand. “I’m married to Maxim. He’s a D-man like Cruz. They’ve been on the same line for years now. I came up with Hana to be the official welcoming committee tonight because Gunnar only had two more seats, but everyone wants to meet you. We’ll have y’all over for a barbecue soon as the boys get back from their road trip next week.”
“I’m going to have Vivian and Lola over for tea on Sunday,” Hana said. “If that works, Lola.”
She nodded. “I think so.” She looked to me.
I hesitated, but then I smiled. “That would be fabulous.” No reason to assume the treatments would cause her distress. For many, the outlook and attitude were as important as the medication, it seemed. I wouldn’t do anything to reduce Lola’s chances for recovery. Plus, having a strong support network made the entire process easier on the patient.
Lola clapped her hands. “I’ll bring sopapillas.”
“Oh, then I’m gonna join y’all,” Ida Jane said, rubbing her hands together. She pouted. “Shoot. Can’t. I got two new kids coming in for treatment Monday morning, and I need to go over their information and set up my office.”
Ida Jane went on to explain her job as an art therapist, and Lola got us plates of food. We snacked and ate until the game started.
