Chapter 20

Liz settled herself on the bar stool, carefully arranging her skirt. The dress Dara had insisted she buy was swirl of rose and cream, with a full skirt, tight bodice and spaghetti straps. It was so different than the severely tailored clothes she'd built her wardrobe around for the past few years. But once she tried it on she was sold. It was sexy and outrageous and demure all at the same time.

Malone's was just beginning to fill up as people in the area left work. Many of them hit the bar for a quick one, giving the crowded Interstate time for the traffic to thin out. It was a welcoming place, with its dark paneling, it's old-fashioned bar with the high stools, and the etched mirror behind the bar. Dara insisted they sit in the middle of the bar so they had a good view of the television.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Liz griped for the fifth time. "It's a waste of time. I haven't even heard from Matt since this morning. He's probably off with his buddies by now."

"Really." Dara was busy typing something on her cell phone. "What about that little teaser he dropped on the noon sports reports?"

"You have no guarantee he was even referring to me. And who are you texting?"

"Just sending something to a client that I forgot about."

"A client? I thought we were supposed to forget all about work and have a good time tonight."

"And we will." She stuck her phone back in her purse. "There. All finished."

"Good. Because that's just what I need to do, now that you got me all pampered and prissed up." Liz placed her new little clutch purse on the bar and sat up straight. "And that little teaser, as you call it? They just said something special in his personal life. That could mean his parents, his sister..." Her voice trailed off and she threw up her hands.

Dara closed her fingers around Liz's wrist. "You really think he'd go to all this trouble for anyone but you?"

Liz nibbled her lower lip. "It's just, well, I have a hard time believing he's had such a dramatic change if heart, of you'll pardon the pun. The Cup was everything to him. I ran a poor second."

"Listen to me, Elizabeth Erin St. John. I saw him this morning. I heard that poem that was so bad it was good. A saw how he'd gotten Chad Hallowell to deliver it and read it to you. Does that sound like you're coming I second, poor or otherwise?" She shook her head. "Listen. Order a drink. Watch the sport report. If whatever he's doing doesn't prove to you that you can take a chance on him again, then at least you'll have the whole picture to make a decision. Okay?"

Liz let out a long sigh. "Okay. But I still have reservations. Sometimes if something looks too good to be true it really is."

"The drink," Dara repeated and signaled to the bartender. "Two margaritas," she told him.

"Hey, wait. I was going to just get a glass of wine to sip on."

"You need something to loosen you up, girl." Dara winked at her. "Come on. Live a little. You've been Miss Button Down since forever."

She knew her friend was right. She'd been so hurt by Matt's actions, by his seeming dismissal of her without a thought for her feelings, that she'd vowed never to put herself out there like that again. But she did have to admit dating men she chose because they were the complete opposite of Matt Vorchak had turned out to be boring and uninteresting. Even f this turned out to be another Matt disaster, maybe it was time for her to step outside herself for a change. She sure wasn't getting any younger. And after all, how long could you pine for someone who put you second best?

"Okay. You're right. Margaritas it is."

The bartender has just delivered the frosty drinks when Dara nudged her and pointed to the television.

"They just teased sports. It will be on right after this commercial."

"But he might not be the first thing," Liz reminded her.

"The sports report isn't that long. And after that teaser at noon everyone will be waiting for the interview. You'll see." She waved at the bartender. "Could you turn that up, please"

He picked up the remote from the bar and increased he volume. The louder sound drew the attention of others, and not just those sitting at he bar. Liz saw people seated at the small tables in the narrow center aisle look up and those in booths adjust themselves to watch the screen.

"How do they know to watch?" Liz asked. "They were all pretty content with their drinks and conversation.

"The bartender doesn't turn up the sound unless something important is about to happen."

Sure enough. Dara, as usual, was right on all counts. The moment the commercial ended the cameras cut to the studio shot of Rod Terrier, sitting at the anchor desk. In front of him and to the side was The Cup, gleaming in the studio lights. Even Liz was impressed by the sight of it like that, the ultimate icon of success in professional hockey.

And once the sportscaster and The Cup were live on screen, people turned in their seats or hitched their chairs around to see what was up.

"Good afternoon, sports fan. Welcome to the five o'clock Rod Report. This magnificent piece of metalwork next to me, which I am privileged to put my hand on, is the famous Cup. It is the icon of professional hockey, the Holy Grail that all teams compete to win. It's symbol of a team's ability to win the hard, grueling games down the stretch."

"I know all you hockey fans watched the exciting series of the championship playoff games this year, and cheered with all of us when the winning goal was scored by defenseman Matt Vorchak, our own hometown hero. The league has a tradition, that each member of the winning team gets to spend one day with the Cup. Today is Matt's day, so you know wherever The cup is, Matt's not far away." He gestured to the side. "Come on out here, Matt, and say hello to everyone."