Page 93 of Pipe Dreams
Oh, hell. That probably meant that it did matter a great deal. “Just try me.”
“Got a text about a really neat gig, but I can’t do it. They want me to sub for one of the musicians inHamilton.”
“Hamilton?” Elsa came skidding around the corner. “Really? That’s so cool! You have to do it!”
“When is it?” Mike asked.
“Tomorrow night. But they’ll probably call me again some other time.”
Tomorrow night. Game seven in Detroit. “Oh, shit.” Hans had turned down gigs before to accommodate Beacon’s game schedule. But never an important one. He’d already bought plane tickets for Elsa and Hans to fly out for game seven. They left tomorrow afternoon.
“I’ll stay home in New York with Hans,” Elsa volunteered immediately.
Hans was already shaking his head. “You have to see the game. It’s okay. They’ll give me another chance to sub.”
“No! This is big! And you told me Broadway pays really well. I’ll go with you tomorrow night and wait in the lobby.”
“Oh, Elsabelle,” Hans said, his smile sad. “It’s four hours. I appreciate your sacrifices but that’s not practical.”
“I have a better idea,” Mike said. “Can you all give me a few minutes? Hans—you didn’t turn it down yet, right?”
The babysitter shook his head.
“Just give me an hour. I might have a solution.”
TWENTY-SIX
DETROIT, MICHIGAN
MAY 2016
Lauren’s travel companion maintained a stony silence on the ninety-minute flight from La Guardia to Detroit, her earbuds jammed into her ears. From the seat beside her, Lauren stole occasional glances at Elsa, remembering how hard it was to be thirteen.
At that age she’d felt mostly grown up. She’d been the same highly organized, disciplined go-getter at thirteen as she was today. But nobody had been ready to acknowledge it. Parents and teachers still treated her like a child. And her body was doing all sorts of embarrassing new things.
You couldn’t pay her to be thirteen again. No sum would be enough.
At the baggage claim in Detroit, a driver waited with a sign reading BEACON FAMILY because Mike had made all the arrangements. Elsa gave both the sign and the driver a glare, just in case nobody in the Detroit metro area had missed her displeasure at traveling with Lauren.
It’s not personal, Lauren reminded herself during the forty-minute drive to the hotel. When they got there, it wasalready five o’clock. “Shall we go out for dinner?” she asked Elsa. Though sitting across the table from someone who didn’t speak to you didn’t sound like that much fun. “Or we could eat whatever concessions they have at the rink, but that’s not for two hours.”
“I’m not very hungry,” Elsa said. “We can wait.”
Okay then.
When the car (finally!) pulled up at the hotel, Lauren was relieved to discover that keys to their adjoining rooms were ready and waiting. “The puck drops at seven thirty, so we have a couple of hours,” Lauren said in the elevator. “We’ll leave at seven? We can either walk through the convention center or ride the shuttle.”
“Fine.”
Sigh.
Lauren opened Elsa’s room door first. It was a nice double. Inside, she opened the lock to the adjacent door. “I’ll just be through here if you need anything,” she told the girl.
Elsa didn’t say anything. She just climbed onto the bed and pulled out her iPad.
Lauren went back into the hallway and keyed into her room, which contained a king-sized bed and Mike’s luggage. He’d left a note on the bed.
Lo—
