Page 12 of The Parent Playbook
Shoot.
“Thanks, Gillian. The workers should be coming soon, but I’ll see what I can do until then.”
The ranch is in need of a serious makeover, but the basics will have to do until the charity season goes by—assuming the Ice Breakers win. It feels ironic to know that soon I won’t have to worry about all of this, but in the short term, all I can do is worry. And patch up pipes with tape.
I do my best and make my rounds, the day flying by faster than I can keep up with it. Now it’s time for the animals.
Edgar sidles up to me with that endearing look he gets when it’s grooming day. Edgar was my first animal, and sometimes I wonder if he’s the one keeping me in line more than any human. The horses will have to wait.
“Come here, boy.” He’s at my side in half a second, pushing my hand with his nose. “I get it, I get it. I’ll start with your neck.”
That’s when Andy barrels in, towing behind him a whirlwind of a girl. She’s all elbows and knees with a wide smile, a walking testament to the idea that grace is overrated. Honestly, I’m here for it.
“Mom, this is Lil from last night and she only came to Maple Falls like a week ago. We have to clear something up from last night.”
“Hello, Lil’.” She curtsies in her jeans that have an unintentional hole in the knee. “Now, tell me about what needs to be cleared up.” I lean forward on Edgar’s back, which makes him give me the goat side-eye.
“Lil says she knows everything about teamwork because her dad playshockey,” Andy declares, puffing out his chest as if he’s dropped the world’s heaviest name drop, minus the actual name.
“I see,” I reply, arching an eyebrow. The barn suddenly feels like the setting for a middle school TED Talk.
Lil nods, her expression dead serious. “Yep. He says it’s like super important. Not just on ice but, like, everywhere.” Sheopens her arms to refer to the whole, wide world. Her tone suggests she’s relaying wisdom from on high, not from someone who probably still counts birthdays in half years.
Andy, not one to let the spotlight stray far, chimes in. “Well, my mom is basically a superhero. She runs this place and helps a ton of kids with volunteers who come from all over the county.”
I’m not sure if I blushed, but hearing Andy gush makes me want to stand taller and brush it off, both at once.
“If that’s not teamwork, I don’t know what is.” Andy finishes with a cross of his arms and a nod.
I want them to see me taking them seriously, but I can’t stop a silly grin from poking at the sides of my mouth. I hide it behind Edgar, who’s become an unwitting participant in this impromptu summit on societal values.
“Yeah, but my dad also does stuff off the ice. Charity things, you know? He’s making a difference,” Lil counters, her small shoulders squared with conviction. With her unkempt long blonde hair falling in her face and a fierce spirit, she argues points I’d expect from someone twice her age.
“If we don’t take care of the planet, there won’t be a place for hockey or anything else,” Andy shoots back, equally earnest.
These kids are throwing around life lessons like they’re competing for a Nobel Peace Prize, which is the most action this barn’s seen since the other night when a cow thought she was a rooster.
Edgar, clearly not a fan of philosophical debates, voices his opinion with a pointed bleat, effectively ending the round and nuzzling under the brush in my hand. Sometimes, this goat’s got more sense than half the town.
The mention of charity work piques my interest, though. Since she’s the kid from the TV room last night, she’s clearly the daughter of someone on the team. It’s nice to know there’s at least one of them on the Ice Breakers with altruistic values.
They continue their discussions of adventure, leaving me with my thoughts and an unamused Edgar. What about Lil’sunnamed hockey player father? Whoever he is, he’s raising a kid already looking to change the world, one spirited debate at a time.
As I give Edgar another vigorous brush, Andy breaks my train of thought.
“Mom, if you brush any harder, Edgar’s gonna turn into a goat-shaped cloud and float away.”
I pause, looking from the brush in my hand to Edgar’s now overly-fluffed side. “Guess I got a bit carried away. He’s cleaner than our dishes now.”
It’s probably a good time to switch activities before I start giving haircuts to the chickens. “I’m going to check the mail. Show Lil around and tell her the rules of the ranch, okay?” I tell Andy, half-expecting him to charge me fees for his effort.
The walk to the mailbox is short, but I drag it out, enjoying the brief escape from my barnyard salon duties. Pulling open the creaky mailbox, I’m greeted by the usual suspects: bills, an ad for a tractor I can’t afford, and … something official-looking that instantly sets off alarm bells in my head.
The return address is from the Washington State Charities Program, which makes my stomach sink to my mud-caked boots. I rip open the envelope right there, my eyes scanning the letter. I’ve been waiting so long for this opportunity, a chance to expand Happy Horizons beyond this site to be county-wide or even state-wide, and that can only happen if the Charities Program approves it …
PENDING.
Panic seizes me, swift and merciless. The recent attention from the hockey fundraiser was supposed to be a good thing, a spotlight on our efforts, butpending? I scan the letter, which doesn’t mention hockey for a second, but instead is all about things like a health and safety inspection and a review of accounts.
