"Yes," I agreed, unable to deny the evidence. "They've bonded so quickly. Sometimes it's hard to believe they've only known each other a few months."
My mother's knowing gaze shifted from Casey and Easton to me. "Love finds its way, dear. Sometimes in the most unexpected circumstances."
Before I could respond, Margaret joined us, adding her own stack of plates. "Elizabeth, we should exchange recipes before I go. Your cranberry relish was divine."
"And I must have your sweet potato casserole recipe," my mother replied. "Casey ate three helpings!"
I watched with amazement as the two women headed into the kitchen together, already discussing ingredients and cooking techniques as if they'd been friends for years rather than newly connected grandmothers.
As the Henleys prepared to leave, Casey ran from person to person, distributing hugs and extracting promises about tomorrow's skating adventure. When she reached Margaret, she threw her arms around her grandmother's waist with uninhibited affection.
"I'm glad you're my grandma now," she declared loud enough for everyone to hear. "I have the best grandmas and grandpa ever!"
Margaret's eyes glistened as she bent to hug Casey. "And I always wanted a granddaughter exactly like you," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.
As I watched them, Easton's presence brushed against me, and then his arm slid around my waist. "You okay?"
This time, my answer came without hesitation. "Yes," I said, leaning into him. "I'm perfect."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Palisade
The letter arrived in our mailbox, forwarded from the Shadow Wolves' main office.
I found it when I got home from the clinic, mixed in with the usual bills and junk mail. The envelope was addressed in careful, childish handwriting:To Casey Henley.
Not Casey Honors. Henley.
There was a note paper-clipped to the front from the team's HR department:Screened and cleared. Thought you'd want to see this.
I opened it carefully.
Dear Casey,
My name is Sophie, and I'm 8 years old. I saw your dad on TV talking about you, and it made me really happy. My dad left when I was three, and I don't see him anymore. My mom says some dads aren't ready to be dads.
But your dad looked really ready. He looked like he loved you a lot. I wanted to tell you that you're lucky. And also I play hockey too! I'm a goalie. Maybe someday we could play together.
Your friend, Sophie
P.S. My mom cried during the press conference. Happy crying, she said.
There was a photo included of a little girl in full goalie gear, grinning gap-toothed at the camera, holding a Shadow Wolves sign.
I read the letter three times, my throat tight.
That evening, I showed it to Easton over dinner at home.
He read it in silence, his jaw working.
"There have been more," he said finally. "The team's been forwarding them to my agent. Letters from kids, mostly. Some from single moms, thanking me for 'stepping up.' Some from estranged fathers, saying the press conference inspired them to reach out to their kids."
"What have you done with them?"
"Deleted most of them. Marcus wants me to respond, create some kind of foundation or outreach program. Turn it into positive PR." He set the letter down carefully. "But that feels exactly like what we said we wouldn't do. Exploiting Casey's story for good press."
"This little girl just wanted Casey to know she's not alone."
