Murder Has a Sweet Tooth - By Miranda Bliss Page 0,30
and because it looked like she might talk if I encouraged her a bit, I followed. When she opened a giant bottle of Gatorade, I held out paper cups for her to fill—just like any seasoned mom would have done at a child’s sports event.
Celia was neat and efficient. When she finished with one bottle of Gatorade, she opened another. “Like Glyn said, Edward is the best in the league. He’d never let the boys down and not show up for a game. Even if it means setting his own grief aside for a while. Henry’s on the team . . .” Celia looked over at the boys and I did, too, and spotted Vickie’s son. “It’s good for Henry to be with his friends. He needs the break, too.”
“Of course.” Celia ran out of paper cups and since there was a new bag of them nearby, I opened it, slipped more cups from the plastic sleeve, and got back to work. We were far enough away that Glynis and Beth couldn’t hear us, so I took a chance at being nosy. “What did Glynis mean, about Edward usually being the best coach in the league except for today? Is there a problem?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, the problem is Jeremy.” On cue, the ball careened Jeremy’s way and he reacted instinctively. He caught it in his hands. Jim is a fan of what he calls football and those of us in the United States call soccer. Me? Not so much. But I guess I’ve sat beside him as he watched enough games on TV that some of the rules and regulations have seeped into my brain through osmosis. Even I know that, except for the goalkeeper, none of the players is allowed to touch the ball. Celia knew it, too, of course. She cringed. “I love the kid to pieces. Honest. But when it comes to soccer, he’s hopeless. He’s so bad, Edward doesn’t even usually let him play.”
“And today he did?”
Finished with the Gatorade, she shrugged and reached for a box of donut holes. She arranged them by flavor on paper plates, each little round donut precisely set against the other so that by the time she was done, the arrangements looked like stylized flowers. “Maybe Edward’s just feeling soft and sappy. You know, because of the funeral and all. I hope it doesn’t last. My Carter is a talented athlete. I’d hate to see his college scholarship chances dwindle because he’s on a losing team.”
I laughed, and when I saw Celia’s lips thin, I knew instantly that I shouldn’t have. “I just didn’t think . . .” It was scramble to apologize or look like a complete fool. “I don’t think I’d be worried about college right now. These kids are in, what, first grade?”
Celia’s smile was stiff. “Carter is in kindergarten. But it’s never too soon to think about college. Not if you expect your kids to get into a good school. Your girls, what kinds of activities are they involved in?”
“Dance class for one. And music.” It was the only thing I could think of. “We’re waiting to be a little more settled before we get involved in too much else.”
“There’s a great girls’ team.” Apparently, it was break time. The boys streamed off the field, and as they did, Celia handed each a paper cup. Glynis came to help. Though from my experience I would have said little boys didn’t need to be directed toward donut holes or any other sweets, she gestured toward the plates and told the boys they were each allowed two.
Beth, I noted, waited for Jeremy to walk off the field and when he did, she brought him over, her arm around his shoulders.
“Didn’t he do great?” she asked no one in particular.
“I did not.” Jeremy scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground. “I stink.”
“You need practice. Everyone needs practice,” Celia assured him.
“Everyone has their own special gifts,” Glynis added. “You’re a good artist, Jeremy. I’ve seen the pictures you draw. You can’t expect to be good at everything.”
Jeremy’s bottom lip protruded. “Carter is,” he grumbled.
“It’s true,” Celia whispered to me, and said to Jeremy, “But you’re not Carter. And you can’t measure yourself based on what Carter does. You can only be the best Jeremy you can possibly be.” I doubt the kid noticed the sour expression that pinched her face. “If you are, then maybe Coach will let you play in another game.”