The Penalty Box (30 page)

“I almost forgot; this came for you.” Her mother handed her an oversize, cream-colored envelope with Katie's name and address written out in calligraphic script, postmarked “Fallowfield.” Katie tore it open anxiously, deflating when she saw what it was.

“One of your colleagues getting married?” her mother asked.

“Yes. My friend Jo Laurie. Next month.”

Katie stared at the invitation in disbelief. Jo, a fellow sociology professor, had been having a discreet affair with one of her graduate students despite a ten-year age difference. Katie had met the young Romeo a few times—he was only a few years younger than she was—but she hadn't been impressed. He wasn't nearly as smart as her friend, and he seemed to take great pleasure in belittling Jo, a trait Katie couldn't stand. Jo had to be pregnant; that was the only reason Katie could come up with for such hasty nuptials. Years before, Jo had been through an ugly divorce and an even uglier tenure battle. If this guy truly made her happy, Katie would keep her trap shut and wish her friend the best.

Even so, the idea of a wedding dampened Katie's already soggy spirits. She'd gone solo to enough weddings to know they were really affairs designed for couples. Whomever she was seated with would spend the evening either trying to fix her up with their second cousin's nephew's neighbor, or else trying to conceal their pity for the academic old maid. She'd be urged to try to catch the bride's bouquet. Colleagues' husbands, pressed by their wives, would politely ask her to dance. She slid the invitation back into its envelope.

“Are you going?” her mother asked curiously.

“If I can find a date.” Katie smiled as a thought struck her. “How do you think Tuck would look in a tuxedo?”

Katie had vowed
she'd never again set foot in Tivoli Gardens again after her high school reunion. Yet here she was in the tacky schnitzel palace, collecting the ten-dollar entrance fees for the Youth Hockey Auction. The booster club had spent well over a month pulling the charity event together. Denise agreed to be auctioneer, and when Bitsy asked Katie to volunteer, she couldn't turn her down. She wasn't happy about working the door, however. Every parent of a child on Tuck's team seemed to give her a dirty look as they handed over their money. Perhaps she should have worn a sandwich board screaming I'M NOT SEEING PAUL VAN DORN ANYMORE.

The Rhineland banquet room was filling rapidly, testament to the booster club's hard work and the importance of youth hockey to the small, close-knit community. Originally the auction was going to be held in the high school gym, but Bitsy was convinced people wanted “bang for their buck.”

“Hi, Aunt Katie!”

Tuck trotted up to the banquet room door, Snake in tow. For a split second Katie wondered where Mina was, but then she remembered: logging hours at the Penalty Box. As far as she knew, her sister's waitressing gig was working out fine. Mina didn't say much about it and neither did Paul—not that Katie talked to him much these days.

“How much ya soakin' us for?” Snake grumbled goodnaturedly while Tuck raced into the banquet room to secure good seats.

“Ten apiece.”

Snake whistled through his teeth. “Highway robbery.” He handed Katie a twenty. “I hope there's some decent stuff to bid on.”

“Lots,” Katie assured him.

“Like—?”

“A homemade quilt, a massage, guitar lessons, a free one-hour legal consultation with Didsbury's top attorney, dinner at the Country Club, pies—you name it.” She omitted mentioning the autographed hockey stick Paul had donated, as well the Blades jersey adorned with autographs from the current roster. She doubted Snake would be interested.

Snake stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “That legal consultation could come in handy after last night.” Katie pursed her lips in disapproval, prompting Snake to guffaw. “You've got no sense of humor, Sister Katie.”

Katie blushed. “Sorry.” Snake started into the banquet room, but paused when Katie called him back. “Thanks for all your help with Tuck.”

“Hey, I dig the little fucker, what can I say?” His language made Katie wince, but the sentiment behind it was genuine, and that was all that mattered. She thought back to the first time she met Snake, his concern that Tuck might somehow be “in the way” when Mina moved in. Her fears about him had vanished. In fact, Katie got the uneasy feeling that Snake was more attentive to her nephew than Mina was.

Snake departed, leaving Katie to face a long line of people wanting to get in the door. At the end of the line stood Paul.

“Hey,” he said when he finally advanced to the front.

“Hey yourself,” Katie replied, feeling self-conscious.

Paul's expression was playful. “Do I still have to pay even though I'm one of the items being auctioned off?”

“I'm afraid so.”

Paul guided a ten dollar bill into her palm, his hand lingering a split second longer than it should have. Katie swallowed, putting the money in the cash box. “You're the big-ticket item of the night, you know.”

Paul looked uncomfortable. “How sad is that?”

“I think it's sweet you agreed to do it.”

“Really?” Paul sounded bemused. “Even though you and I both know that Liz Flaherty will outbid everyone and I'll have to spend a night in horny divorcee hell?”

Paul was right, of course. Liz would take out a second mortgage on her house if it meant bagging a date with Paul. “It's for a good cause,” Katie reminded him, though picturing them together irritated her.

“I suppose.”

She waited for him to saunter inside but he didn't, even though the line forming behind him was beginning to back up. Instead, he moved off to the side so the next person could pay his entrance fee, remaining close enough to chat with her.

“How's the book coming?”

“Terribly,” Katie confessed, returning Ambrose Wilbraham's stony glare as he and his wife smirked at her and Paul. She was tempted to ask Paul to go inside. His standing with her would fuel more rumors in this gossip-driven town. But then she thought, too bad. People are allowed to talk to each other and if these putzes want to think we're still an item, let them.

“How could your book be going terribly? You interviewed so many fascinating people.”

Katie shot him a sideways look, catching the mischievous look in his eyes. “Are you speaking of yourself?”

“Myself and others.” He took a step closer to her, near enough for her to inhale his scent. This time, she seriously wished he would go away. She had enough to worry about without his pheromones jumbling her senses.

Katie smiled wryly. “Nice to see your ego's intact.”

“Something has to be. After dating you, I'm lucky I'm not in a permanent body cast.”

“That can be arranged.” The air was beginning to feel charged. A few more barbs and they'd cross over the line to flirting. Time to change the subject. “How's my sister doing?”

“Okay,” Paul replied slowly.

“You don't sound so sure.”

“No, I'm sure.” He edged toward the doorway. “I guess I better get inside.”

“Need to change into your thong for the grand finale?”

“You wish.”

Actually, she did. She checked him out: Jeans, adidas, gray ribbed turtleneck. One of the outfits he looked best in. The shirt made his eyes look crystalline and sexy in a lycanthropic sort of way that hit her low in the belly every time. Eager for distraction, Katie pretended to organize bills in the cash box. “I think you'll bring in a lot of money for the organization,” she told him when she finally had the courage to look at him without drooling.

Paul's expression was tentative. “Maybe I'll see you afterward.”

“Maybe.”

 

 

Katie
knew
Snake
would offer the highest bid for one of Tabitha's delicious lemon meringue pies; she remembered how disappointed he'd been when he didn't have time for a slice of her mother's cake the day they fetched Tuck. She herself had bid on—and won—a full body massage with Sage Dragonwagon, the most sought after massage therapist in town, probably because she was the only one.

The massage was all Katie intended to bid on. That is, until Paul stepped out on stage, triggering a chorus of female wolf whistles and catcalls.

Katie felt a thundering begin in her head. She knew it was nuts. She knew it was asking for trouble. But there was no way in hell she was going to let Liz Flaherty win this one.

“Ladies, please!” Denise implored, fanning herself as if the sight of Paul might make her faint. “Control yourselves!” Paul looked like he wanted to burrow beneath the floorboards. It was painfully obvious he hadn't expected such a lusty response. Denise sauntered over to him, draping an arm around his shoulder.

“Hello, Paul,” she cooed in to her mike.

Paul winked and the women in the crowd went wild.

“There are some ladies in this room willing to spend big bucks to see your hockey stick,” Denise continued. The crowd roared. “Do you promise to show the winner a good time?”

Paul smiled shyly. “I'll try.” Embarassment began to give way to amusement as he got into the spirit of things. “I might need some hands-on instruction, though. It's been a long time since I've put one in the net.”

The crowd roared. Paul's face turned red, but he was laughing. He sat down on the throne provided for him, while Denise held up a hand. “Everyone, quiet, please.” The place settled down. “Now, you know the rules: Paul here goes to the highest bidder, and there's no cap. Ladies, are you ready?”

Katie could feel her nerves snapping. Beside her, Bitsy was rocking anxiously on the edge of her seat.

“Bidding begins at fifty dollars, commencing now!” Denise announced.

“Seventy-five!”

“Eighty!”

“Eighty-five!”

“One hundred!”

Goggle-eyed, Katie sat listening to the chorus of voices vying for a night with her ex. The numbers kept climbing thanks to Liz Flaherty. Everytime someone threw a number out, Liz would immediately raise the bid. When the number reached one twenty, Katie jumped in.

“One fifty!” she shouted, sounding like a mad prophet in the wilderness.

Heads turned. Female heads with narrowed eyes and pressed lips. She knew what they were thinking: Why does she want him? She already has him. She already
had
him. What the hell is going on here? An icy voice broke the stillness.

“One eighty!” Liz Flaherty shot back.

“Two hundred!” Katie countered. She heard gasps. Murmurs. Even a few titters. She didn't care. She was a woman possessed. No one would sway her from her course.

Liz turned and smiled at her. “Three hundred.”

Katie smiled back. “Three fifty.”

“Are you crazy?” Bitsy hissed, ceasing her nervous rocking just long enough to embed her nails in Katie's left arm. “This is like Monopoly money to her! She'll bankrupt you!”

“We'll see.” She directed her attention back to Denise, careful not to make eye contact with Paul, who had to be wondering what was going on.

The room fell into a hush as everyone held their breath, waiting to see what, if anything would happen next. Liz popped a breath mint, chasing it with a bored sigh. “Five hundred.”

“Six hundred,” Katie spat out.

The rest of the bidding unfolded like a fevered dream, fuzzy around the edges, with everyone's voice, including Katie's own, seeming to be coming from far, far away. Katie wasn't sure at what point the numbers she called out ceased to be real, becoming instead mere sounds being shaped by her mouth without her brain's permission. It felt like she and Liz were singing a duo, the point and counterpoint of their voices the backdrop to a melody only they could hear. Higher and higher the numbers rose, and with them, Katie's pulse. By the time Liz called out “Nine hundred,” Katie was in real fear of a heart attack.

Bitsy covered her face with her hands. “Stop,” she begged.

“Soon,” Katie promised, breathing hard. Everyone in the room was staring at her, waiting. She thought she might faint.

“Nine fifty,” Katie called. For the first time since the bidding began, she looked at Paul. The sheer befuddlement on his face almost made her laugh out loud. He was staring at her like she was nuts. Which, come to think of it, she probably was. Wasn't obsession a form of insanity? Well, she was completely
obsessed
with not letting Liz win. Rationality had packed up and left town.

“We've got ninety fifty,” Denise announced nervously. Katie looked at her friend; her expression, too, said, “Are you out of your
mind
?” Denise swallowed. “Is that the final bid?”

“Nine seventy,” Liz called out. She jerked around to flash Katie a look of extreme exasperation. Obviously she hadn't expected having to bid this high on her “lamby.”

“Nine eighty,” Katie countered sharply.

“Oh my God,” Bitsy moaned. “As soon as this is over I'm bundling you into the car and taking you to the psychiatric hospital.”

“Didsbury doesn't have a psychiatric hospital.”

“Then I'm building one and locking you in there until you come to your senses.”

“Sshh,” said Katie, eyes locked on Liz. Her opponent hesitated a second. Maybe it was over.

“Nine ninety,” Liz countered wearily.

“One thousand,” was Katie's cheerful answer. The room gave a collective gasp. Katie's heart was about to slam out of her chest as she waited for Liz to counter. She felt delirious.
I could do this all night!
she thought giddily. But Liz offered no counter bid. Instead, she picked up her coat and purse and began walking, very slowly, toward Katie.