Page 71 of That Thing You Brew
And it perfectly described the last few months. I, along with my family and friends, had been sucked into Xavier’s world, willingly and thoroughly. As the Edge chased the Cup, I was at every game, home and away. Jannell and Marcus had given me all the time off I’d needed and allowed me to come in on home game days just to make Xavier’s toffee coffee.
The team had made the Coffee Loft one of their official partners (I think Xavier had paid for that, but I didn’t have proof, and I wasn’t asking), and on game days, the staff wore his jersey under their aprons. Even little Riva had a doggie version.
Because the final round of the Cup championship overlapped with the Ren Faire, I hadn’t planned to return. But after my performance of the national anthem at the Edge game—and the subsequent follow-up invitations to play during the playoffs, plus other gigs—the entertainment director practically begged me to return for at least one day as a guest performer.
So I had, and that was where we were today, after being home for just two days from Xavier’s mom’s family reunion in Calgary. I shared the tiny wooden slatted stage with the Great Howdidhedini one more time before we left for Schwannenschloss. Xavier’s parents and sisters were here, watching me play under the makeshift tent, which provided minimal shade. And in a small-world twist, Daniella had run into Beck and her father in town and recognized them as the contractors who had renovated the baron’s chambers to make them accessible at Schwannenschloss. Beck’s father had been in the Army, and they’d started freelancing with Montoya Construction when he’d been stationed in Munich.
Xavier, in his wedding ensemble, sat off to the side with Abby Cabunny, supervising an improvised meet-and-greet during my second set. A bunch of his friends from the team were here, including Jason, cradling his new baby proudly against him, arms protectively around the bundle despite the cast on his wrist.
After the final game, the injury report had been released, and the world learned that a handful of Edge players were playing with fractures, Jason among them. He’d taped his wrist and hidden his injury and fooled us all. Xavier had a few cracked ribs, Brendan a broken foot, and Trask a torn rotator cuff. He’d had surgery a few days later and wouldn’t be back playing until October at the earliest.
It amazed me what these guys would do for each other, and I had no doubt that they’d go just as far next year. As for winning the Cup, the Miami Ice Cats would continue to be a threat. They were bigger and faster but also older, and some of their players were slowing down. The Edge had a new crop of Volts ready to step up and add depth, so we were all looking forward to what next season would bring.
Most of my family was here, too, except for Tasha, who was strangely absent. As I greeted my audience—something I’d never been able to do until now—I noticed Monty in the back with his phone up, recording. He was staying in my old room at Tasha’s for the next couple of weeks while Nana Booboo’s house was being renovated.
I prayed they both came out of the experience alive.
After a few songs, Karina joined me for “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” She’d advanced quite quickly in four months, and it was evident she loved to play. After learning she had dyslexia, I’d recommended a harp with rainbow-colored strings to help her learn. It’d been invented by a dyslexic harpist who had originally put color-coded stickers on her harp.
When I finished playing, I hung around to greet my friends and family and well-wishers. Monty hung back, and it was obvious he was waiting to speak with me. I hoped everything was okay.
When the last person in line turned away, I signaled Xavier to pack up my harp and excused myself to cross over to where Monty waited off to the side under a trio of aspens.
Lifting my heavy skirts in the front, I hurried over. Concern was etched into his features, and it wasn’t the overly dramatic intentional face he often put on for emphasis. No. I’d known him long enough to know this was genuine.
And it scared me.
“Is Tasha okay?” I blurted.
“I don’t know.” He wrung his fingers together. “She says she is, but she sent me out. She told me to record you and tell you she was sorry and—hold on, I need to make sure I get this right. She made me take a note.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, then turned it to face me. “I don’t know what this means, and she hasn’t come out of her room since early last night.”
I read the words on the screen. “Tell Penny I’m sorry I can’t make it. She’ll understand. She cannoli imagine what I’m going through.”
Oh man. Poor Tasha. She was having a flare-up. Cannoli was our code word for Italian food, which wreaked havoc on her systems.
“Monty, what did Tasha eat yesterday?”
“Eat? I don’t know what she had at work, but I ordered dinner in for us from Pasta Nacht’s. She had the gluten-free dairy-free Alfredo.” He shuddered. “What’s even the point? How do you have Alfredo without milk, cheese, or flour?”
A line began to form behind him. I’d never gotten this much attention in past years. People were asking for my music, which had never happened. And my tip basket had more money in it after three sets than I used to collect in a weekend.
As I suspected, Monty had no clue about Tasha’s ailments. “She can’t eat those things. I think the food might have had some cross-contamination.”
His jaw dropped, and his eyes bugged out at me. “Is she going to be all right? Should I have left her? Do I need to call an ambo? I didn’t think anything was wrong when she decided to go to bed right after dinner. What if she dies?”
Monty’s panic surprised me, but then I remembered about his sister. I laid my hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “Yes and yes. She likely just wanted to be left alone right now. I’ll call her and see how bad it is.”
“Thanks. She’s been working so hard getting her high school team in shape. And we’re co-coaching the Worlds team this year, you know.”
“Yes, I know. With your tumbling and her choreography skills, we all expect a win.”
He grinned, but then it quickly faded. “How can I help her, Penny? I can handle the team if she’s sick into next week, but she won’t even open the door and poke her head out. How do I know she’s not getting worse?”
“You don’t. But trust me, okay? I’ll keep in touch with her and let you know if you need to bust her door down. And I’ll send Mom over to sit with her if she’s still not better tomorrow. Okay?”
He nodded, then shook his head. “I wish she would trust me. I could help her.”
I crossed my arms and forced his gaze to mine. “You’ve got a lot of years to make up for if you want to earn her trust, Monty. You should definitely start now. Bring home a twelve-pack of grape Gatorade. It’s not much, but it’s a start. Keep me posted, okay?”
