Easier said than done because Kristen’s oversized sweatshirt shouldn’t seem so fashionable. Tasha had to work harder to look good. Still, those were odd clothing choices. Kristen must not have a shift at her mom’s dress shop until later today. Phoebe expected her staff, including her three adult children, to wear business attire or smart casual—emphasis on smart—at the destination boutique.
Working at the rink meant Tasha’s clothing choices hadn’t changed much over the years. She could easily lace up her skates and be ready to practice on any given day. Kristen no longer skated, but she moved as gracefully as the ice princess she’d once been. She could have been an elite competitor, but Tasha’s parents had made Kristen continuing to skate at the rink impossible.
Mom wanted Tasha to be like Kristen, and though Tasha had the skating skills, she was far from princess material. Oh, she hadn’t been a frosty villainess or an ugly stepsister. She’d been a workhorse, never giving up when logic suggested she should. And that was probably why Tasha never had a starring role as a gold medal winner of the Ramson family.
Stop thinking.
She plastered on the I’m-doing-great face she’d perfected over the years. And this would be easier compared to other meetings or family dinners. Kristen rarely stayed more than a minute or two.
Kristen came closer. “Sorry I’m late.”
She was the same age as Tasha but looked younger than twenty-eight. Always had, no matter the age. The dark circles around Kristen's eyes, however, weren’t normal.
None of my business. Tasha kept her smile frozen in place. She shouldn’t care what might be wrong, even though something had to be. Unlike Tasha, Kristen had never been well-acquainted with insomnia. “Not a problem.”
Kristen handed over the costume. “Is Giselle practicing?”
“Yes.”
“Good, because I don’t want to have to deal with her mom.” Kristen had dealt with more than one crazy stage mom, but the expression on her face suggested here was more to it this time.
“What happened?” Tasha asked.
“Giselle’s costume fits perfectly, but her mom wanted more sparkles, so…”
The casual clothing and tired eyes made sense. “You stayed up all night to add more bling.”
“Not all night.”
A lie, but only friends called each other on stuff like that. They hadn’t been part of each other's lives for eight years other than these quick drop-offs, which had only been occurring for the past three.
Kristen’s choice.
Tasha gripped the hanger. The plastic hook dug into her skin. “I appreciate it. Giselle will too. Today’s been emotional for her.”
“It must be for all of you.” Kristen peered around Tasha. “I can’t believe your parents sold the rink.”
Icy tentacles traveled along Tasha’s spine. “Me, neither.”
Kristen’s inquisitive gaze appeared to be searching for something. “You okay?”
A shrug was the only safe answer. Tasha had gotten good at shrugging—the right shoulder, the left shoulder, both shoulders. Toss in a neutral expression or the hint of a smile, and everyone believed things were fine.
No one wanted the truth—that the sale blindsided Tasha and the rink staff, and she’d been in denial until Mom and Dad told her to pack the office on Black Friday.
This morning, Tasha had awakened with a splitting headache and aching muscles. The pain of hauling boxes reminded her of preparing for Nationals three years ago. She thought she’d never hurt that badly again. She’d been wrong. But this time, the pain wasn’t only physical.
Kristen dragged her upper teeth over her bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”
Tasha’s lips parted, but she struggled with how to respond. Kristen had said those same two words when she no longer wanted to be best friends…or friends at all. The result of the heartbreak caused by Alek, Tasha’s twin, when he cut Kristen from his life to focus on his hockey career.
“Thanks.” The word came out whisper-soft and almost sounded like a question. But compassion from Kristen McAllister was the last thing Tasha expected. She didn’t know how to react.
Kristen rubbed her hands together. That had always been a nervous habit of hers whether before a competition or at school. “The entire town is in shock.”
Me too.
But as the daughter of a hall-of-fame hockey player and gold medal figure skater, Tasha had been in the media spotlight her entire life. The spotlight had only intensified when she competed in pairs and then individually. One of her camera-appropriate faces, learned at a young age, had come in handy with the sale. She relied on one now.
