Kitty and I stood there for a beat, watching Abby circle nearby.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
She looked at me, expression guarded but open. “For what?”
“For assuming that you wanted me to go on stage,” I said. “And for how I said it. I could have phrased things better.”
She considered that. “I understand now.”
“That doesn’t make it fair,” I said.
She smiled faintly. “No. But it makes it clearer.”
I nodded, grateful for the distinction.
“I didn’t mean to push,” she continued. “I was overwhelmed. I thought I was asking the right thing.”
“You were,” I said. “I just heard something else due to past experiences. I’m sorry I wasn’t listening properly.”
She studied my face for a moment, then looked back to Abby. “Your niece is very determined.”
“She gets that from Eva,” I said. “And unfortunately from me.”
Kitty laughed softly. “That makes sense.”
We fell into an easy rhythm after that, skating slowly while Abby practiced nearby. The conversation stayed light and careful. But the tension eased enough to breathe.
When Eva returned with drinks, she looked between us, clearly pleased. “Good. You didn’t implode.”
“Give it time,” I muttered.
She ignored me. “Kitty, if you ever want to explore the idea of coaching, I know people. The rink is always looking for instructors. One just went on maternity leave and another left for college. They really do need help. It’s a paid position.”
Kitty hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
As the session wound down, Abby skated over, flushed and tired but happy.
“Can we come again?” she asked.
“Yes,” Eva said immediately.
I watched Kitty gather her things, the way she moved with quiet purpose, and felt something settle into place.
Chapter Nine: Paperwork
Kitty
I arrived at the community center ten minutes early and immediately regretted my decision.
The folding tables had been arranged in a lopsided horseshoe, the sign taped to the door read TALENT SHOW SIGN UPS TODAY in uneven marker, and Marjorie was already there with a clipboard so full of papers it looked like it might give up under the strain.
“You’re early,” she said brightly, which told me she had been here longer than anyone should have been.
“I thought it would help,” I said.
“That’s what I thought too,” she replied, undeterred. “Mr. Humphrey is bringing stamps.”
That should have worried me more than it did.
