Page 34 of An Irresistible Force (Vancouver Vice)

It seemed like a big waste to me—going out on a date just to pacify her mother. “You should just grow a pair and say no to your mother.”

“You haven’t met her yet,” Amanda said. “But you will. She wants me to invite you to dinner.”

“Sure. Anytime.”

Opportunity after opportunity kept getting handed to me. Now I was getting a crack at the key part of the ownership group. Soon I’d be finalizing this sale, proving I could manage shit too, and getting back to the big team. But lately, the idea of leaving the Vice seemed less appealing. Guess you could get used to anything.

15

Dinner Is Served

Chris

I steeredthe Range Rover to the Shaughnessy neighbourhood where the Richardsons lived. This was the ritziest part of Vancouver. The GPS directed me to a heavily treed property with a stone wall around it. The iron gate was open, so I drove up the curved driveway and parked in front of a mansion. Like a real life mansion.

I walked up the stairs and knocked on the thick wooden door. Amanda opened it.

“Hey, Chris. Come on in.” She looked grim.

“Is something wrong?” I asked her in a low voice, as I handed her my coat. She shook her head as she hung it up in a dark closet. This whole place looked about a hundred years old.

“It’s just, um, my mother’s a very strong person. Don’t feel like you have to say yes to anything she asks you to do.”

“Like what? Does she want me to take out some old biddy from her gardening club?” I laughed and continued, “Even though I played hockey, I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“Thatisgood news, Mr. Luczak,” said a low, musical voice.

The women in this family had an alarming way of sneaking up on a guy. I turned around. Mrs. Richardson was a slim woman in a beige dress. She had styled blonde hair and friendly blue eyes. She was shorter than Amanda and very lady-like. Why was Amanda so worried? Her mom looked like a pushover.

Mrs. Richardson extended her hand to me in such an elegant way that I felt like I should be kissing it instead of shaking it. But that wasn’t a move that a guy from the wrong side of the tracks should be attempting. I shook her hand and felt the prick of her gold bracelet against my fingertips.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Richardson. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”

“Please call me Jeannie.” She smiled up at me. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you from Gregory and Amanda that I’ve been wanting to meet you in person. Of course, we have met before.”

“We have?”

“Yes, we were both at a fundraiser for Millionaire charities. But that was many years ago—I attended with Vince, my late husband. You were surrounded by fans, and I certainly wouldn’t expect you to recall that.”

I nodded. I wasn’t going to pretend I remembered her, because if she was anything like her daughter, her bullshit detectors were dialled up high.

We walked into a living room where a crackling fire was glowing. I had been expecting brand new furniture and designer accessories, but the furniture looked kind of worn and comfortable. This place felt like somewhere you could sit back and put your feet up. Not that I would, of course.

“I guess that supporting charities was part of your job as captain of the team,” Jeannie said, as she sank down beside me on the cushioned sofa.

“Yeah. But it’s something I always enjoyed.”

Amanda headed over to a bar cart, where she poured some kind of brown liqueur into a glass. Then she pulled a Heineken out of an ice bucket, and held it up towards me. I nodded as her mom continued talking. It was weirdly flattering that not only did Amanda remember my favourite beer, but she had also gone out and bought it. But maybe in a house this nice, they had a full selection of imported beer.

“I’m sure you’re continuing to do your share of charity work now that you’ve retired from active play,” Jeannie said.

I nodded. I had a full schedule of events for the team, especially when the real players had actual games or road trips. I was the pseudo-player for every occasion. But there were certain charities that were close to my heart.

“I still do a lot of work with Millionaires’ Mansion—you know, the children’s charity. It’s very close to here.” A former mansion had been converted into a palliative care facility for children and their families. I had worked on fundraising for them from my first year on the team, but this year I was able to drop by and visit the kids more often. Soon, I wouldn’t be a big deal to them, but that day hadn’t come yet.

Amanda set down coasters and drinks in front of us. She sat down in a chair across from me. “That’s very nice of you, Chris.”

I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal for me. The kids are the ones who really go through the wringer.”

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