After a career-ending fight, ex-professional-hockey-player-turned-Zamboni-driver Chase Cassidy has never looked back at the sport. He's perfectly content cleaning the ice between periods and chatting with fellow staff members, and running a pub outs...
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Spencer
"Is Lennon talking to you yet?" Amelia asks.
Memories of Christmas Day are brought to the forefront of my mind. After his relentless teasing, Chase and I chased him through the house, catching him before he could scamper downstairs and lock himself in the wine cellar. Chase grabbed his ankles, I grabbed his wrists, and we carried him outside into the snow. Lennon tried to escape from us, but he failed. Miserably. After counting to three, Chase and I threw Lennon into the snowbank off of the back porch. I wanted to lock the door behind us, but Chase convinced me the poor kid—his words, not mine—had been through enough.
Lennon dragged snow into the house and kept complaining about his bad luck with getting snow down his pants. Then, when Mom saw the mess he'd made, she made him clean it up before getting changed. All Dad did was shake his head and mutter something about needing coffee.
After that, Mom reprimanded us—mildly—for running around the house like a bunch of teenagers.
Chase and I fought hard to not laugh. You don't want to piss off a hungover Miranda West.
Christmas Day was hellishly fun. After Chase's beautiful breakfast, we went sledding until late in the evening, when we feasted on leftovers. It was difficult to say goodbye to Chase. I wanted to convince him to stay one more night, but the roads had been plowed and he needed to tend to his cat. And change his clothes.
"Talking," I reply, applying a thin coat of matte red lipstick. "But I think he's plotting his revenge. He'll figure out a way to mortify Chase and I again."
Amelia chuckles on the other line. "Damn. Your family is ferocious."
"Yeah," I sigh. "But I love 'em. How were your holidays? How's work been?"
"The holidays were great. Spent some down time with the fam. Work's been... It's been difficult," Amelia says. "After Christmas, getting back into the swing of things is such a mental barrier. During Christmas, when you have time off, it feels like you're disassociating yourself from reality. Then, suddenly, you're hit with it again. I have so much work to catch up on."
"So not so good?" I ask.
"Eh." There's a shrugging-worthy note in her voice. "Same old, same old. Still wondering what I should do. I'm scared to take a leap, Spence."
After the successful fashion show, Amelia got countless offers for partnerships with local stores and larger retail corporations. Her sales have also gone up, and she's gained a mass amount of followers on Instagram and other social media platforms. However, there are two issues: she doesn't have the staff or production abilities to keep up with the demands. Nor does she want to switch to commercial production. It's not sustainable or ethical.
There are, however, other options. One company in New York has come forward asking to buy the designs from her. It's an excellent opportunity to make money, but it reduces some of the independence her career holds. Her name would still be on the products, but she doesn't get a say in where the product is sold, how it's produced, et cetera.
