The Parent Playbook (Love on Thin Ice)

1. Angel

CHAPTER 1

ANGEL

O n the outskirts of Maple Falls, a sugar-charged showdown has erupted. The air is thick with noise, a mash-up of shrieks and giggles loud enough to rival a hurricane. Beneath my feet, the ground vibrates with each bounce, a testament to the pandemonium playing out in front of me.

But let’s get real—this isn’t your textbook battle scene. Nope, this battlefield is crafted from inflated plastic and high spirits, a fortress for the fiercest four-foot-tall fighters known to man?—

Thirty-five preschoolers in a bouncy castle.

And here I am, playing watchdog at the edge, like a general overseeing her tiny, unruly army.

“Jesse, no head-first diving!” But my voice barely cuts through the sea of squeals and giggles. “Mia, keep your glasses on, warrior princess!” Commands fly from my lips, an attempt to impose order on the joyful anarchy, or at least avoid any broken bones or poked eyeballs.

These little champions, their faces alight with pure, unadulterated joy—this is why I keep fighting my own wars for funding the Happy Horizons Ranch. It’s for the triumphant cheers from a successfully navigated obstacle course. It means maintaining the various animals so they can accompany children struggling with illness or to open the eyes of classes of kids who come from Seattle’s less affluent neighborhoods. Every moment speaks to their resilience, to finding happiness in the simplest of pleasures. All this to watch them grow from little caterpillars into butterflies.

For the moment, that lofty ideal means I’m perched on the edge of an inflatable coliseum, barking orders like a general.

“Dave, no flips! Lacey, that’s enough of the war cry, sweetheart. And for the love of—Jimmy, untangle yourself from Sarah before you both turn into a preschool pretzel!”

Jimmy’s eyes light up with mischief, a mirror to his spirit that refuses to be dampened by the one-room apartment he shares with his mother and two siblings. And there’s Bella, twirling in a dress two seasons out of style with holes in the armpits, her grace unmatched. My heart swells for these kids.

I was one of them.

Yep, I came from the wrong side of the tracks in Maple Falls, a stone’s throw from where we’re standing. It was a place where dreams were as threadbare as our clothes. Back then, our version of this inflatable coliseum was a discarded fridge box, our giggles just as loud, our battles just as fierce.

In the thick of this pint-sized pandemonium, amidst the uproarious joy of kiddie combat, I get why I’m here. These little troopers, with giggles loud enough to plaster over their hardships, are like tiny beacons of stubborn hope, battling it out for their slice of a brighter future.

That’s why I started Happy Horizons.

Each bounce, each laugh, is a tiny rebellion against the hardships these kids face outside the castle walls. I know their stories, the battles they fight when they leave this place. There’s Lacey, whose mom works three jobs to keep the lights on. And Thomas, who’s been bounced around more foster homes than I’ve had hot dinners. Their spirit is the real legend here.

“Angel!” I know that voice right away, despite it being on the other side of the castle walls .

“Enter at your own risk,” I shout to Troy, my good friend and the only man brave enough to enter the fray with me.

He’s a sweetheart disguised as a tough hockey dude. It’s thanks to him that the kids registered with Happy Horizons are able to go to the rink and learn all kinds of ice sports, since Troy is the owner of the local arena. We became friends almost immediately when he moved to town. One of his first stops was Happy Horizons Ranch, asking if I thought there was a need for the arena to help out with needy kids. That’s a good guy, and his wife is no less the saint. We’ve spent many long nights talking about our pasts, laughing together, and making plans to improve our community for kids. Ellie Butler, who I’ve known almost since birth, now teaches kids at the rink while also working for Troy and his wife, Kelly, from time to time.

Troy crawls into the castle, hesitantly standing at my side as if any wrong move might lead to his demise. He’s not wrong.

“Phew, made it inside alive. How’s it going, Angel?” he says just as a beach ball slams into his face, courtesy of one of our gladiators. “Oh no! I’m going down!” Troy falls like a log, and the kids swarm him like he’s the last piece of candy on Halloween. “I don’t see why people find toddlers so hard to manage!”

“Oh, it’s a regular day at the spa,” I quip, right before a knee finds its way to his groin.

Troy’s eyes bulge in silent agony, and I quickly shoo the kids away, offering my hand to help him up. I get hold of him just as my phone pings with the message I’ve been waiting for. “The contractor! At last! Fix-It-All is coming in two days. I have to send the deposit ASAP.” I let go of Troy’s hand to get into my online banking and he falls back into the quagmire. If only I had an accountant, this would have been easier. But times are tight and I want as many funds as possible going straight to the kids.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t get Rick and Rick Junior to do it.” Troy stumbles back to his feet.

“Look, you managed to convince your fancy-pants brother to fund Happy Horizons Ranch through the Ice Breakers, so the least I can do is a formal request for quotes to do the work. The fact is that Fix-It-All Inc. gave the lowest quote.”

Troy works his way back to his feet. “You know that Zach doesn’t care who fixes your roof, right? It’s about what you do for these kids on this amazing ranch.”

“If only it were just the roof. It’s the electricity. Plumbing. The fence. And I’m sure there’s more, if the accounting will add up to make it work. It’s not a small job. Of course Rick could have done it, but …”

How do I explain to the brother of my benefactor that as soon as Happy Horizons Ranch was formally announced as the charity selected to receive the proceeds from the Ice Breakers hockey team, I was struck by a bolt of imposter syndrome to rival a superhero’s origin story? These sports celebrity types are used to limos and caviar, not my countryside ranch that’s barely paying the bills. Since Zach announced it, I’ve been solely focused on—at the risk of an inglorious hockey pun—upping my game.

“The point is,” I continue, “Happy Horizons is on the cusp of becoming a state-wide charity improving the lives of children who otherwise wouldn’t have breakfast, wouldn’t have safe places to play, or experience summer camp, or farm and wildlife. Bringing in pros who aren’t from the same small town where we grew up can only be a good thing.”

“Yeah, but …” he scratches his head in that way where he thinks he knows best. His wife, Kelly, and I have often commiserated over hating that scratch. “You don’t know Fit-It-All Inc. You don’t know if they’re trustworthy.”

I laugh, but it’s not as confident as it sounds. “You think they’d cheat a children’s charity ? Who does that?”

Troy sighs. “I hope you’re right.”

“There.” I dramatically tap “send” on the wire transfer and a wave of relief washes over me. I need Happy Horizon’s Ranch in the best possible shape before Zach brings his media entourage to do their big visit. “We will be beyond reproach of any hockey dude and their mother.”

“Touché,” he says with a little bow. “I’m surprised you’re still here, actually. Don’t you have your first meeting with the team today?”

Why did he have to remind me?

“I know that look,” he says in a tone I don’t like one bit.

“I don’t have a look.” To prove it, I purse my lips and wiggle my face at him.

“Right, no look. Whatever it is, I don’t get it. These guys are likely going to raise a ton of cash for you. Isn’t that what you want?”

No, it’s not what I want . Because it’s not a question of want—it’s a question of need. But I can’t tell Troy that. The county has reduced funding to charities just at a time when the cost of living in Maple Falls and the surrounding towns and cities has gone up and up and up. Families are doing what they can, but a lot of them rely on Happy Horizons.

And I intend to be there for them.

If that means I have to flap about among a gaggle of dudes who are all charm and swagger with bank accounts as inflated as this castle … so be it.

“Brace yourself, Troy. The invasion of the hockey hunks is upon us,” I say as we escape the bouncy castle.

Troy chuckles, rubbing his side where a future soccer star probably left a footprint. “You’re never going to believe me when I say these hockey stars aren’t all bad, are you?”

“Nope.” I pop the ‘p’ with the bitterness of a lemon. “Rich, arrogant hockey celebrities and I mix about as well as oil and water.”

“In your case, vinegar.”

“You calling me bitter?”

“I’d say sour. And you can’t tell me I’m wrong. You need to put those feelings aside and go hob-nob with the Ice Breakers. They’re going to be around for a while, and they also want a piece of helping Happy Horizons grow. They might surprise you.”

Children’s giggles fill the air, right on cue.

I turn back to Troy. “That’s why I’m going to plaster on the world’s most convincing smile and pretend I don’t despise every second of it,” I say with a determination that’s half-hearted at best.

My phone rings, slicing through the noise around us, but my stomach drops when I see the caller ID.

Maple Falls Middle School. Again.

I sigh, bracing myself for the news of my son’s latest exploits.

“Hello, this is Angelica Davis,” I answer, already walking toward a quieter spot, Troy in tow.

“Ms. Davis, it’s Principal Ballard. Andrew is …”

Hurt?

Stuck in the toilet since lunch?

Able to crack the da Vinci Code and will likely become America’s youngest espionage agent?

“Well, he’s climbed onto the school roof and is refusing to come down, declaring he’s protesting homework that requires too much paper, calling it an ecological disaster.”

Andy.

I clear my throat. He’s his mother’s son, but his antics are starting to cause a real problem, and I don’t have time for this. “Virginia,” I say, since Principal Ballard and I have known each other since we were four, “can’t you suggest he do his protest from the ground?”

“He’s demanding an audience with the mayor,” Virginia explains, not even trying to hide her exasperation. She always was a little too uptight for her own good.

“The mayor?” My hand pinches the bridge of my nose. “He’s twelve,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone. “Okay, I’m coming.”

I end the call and look at Troy, who’s trying and failing to hide a grin. “The mayor, huh? Kid’s got ambitions. ”

“This isn’t funny,” I snap, though part of me is always impressed with my kid’s guts. “He’s supposed to be in class, not staging a coup on the roof.”

Troy raises his hands in surrender. “Go easy on him, Angel. Remember that story you told me about Mrs. Burnbent? You weren’t the easiest either.”

Troy knows. Life for me growing up wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. My mom, she was like a crusader, working three different jobs to make sure she and I had a roof over our heads and food on the table. I didn’t see her much, mostly glimpses early in the morning or late at night, like a shadow moving quietly through our small, cramped bungalow. But even in her absence, I learned a lot from her—about working hard, about not giving up, despite being bone-tired. She was the strongest person I knew. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t around much, I admired her more than anyone else.

Losing her when I was eighteen nearly broke me in two, except that she had taught me how to get through the hardest that life throws around.

But then everything went into fast-forward. At nineteen, I was wearing a white dress at city hall with a boy I’d known since we were five. I was na?ve enough to believe I had all the answers, that I’d somehow outsmart life’s curveballs if I had a ring on my finger. I was filled with dreams of building a different world for us, one filled with laughter and love, anything to get out of the hole of my childhood.

But then I found myself cradling a positive pregnancy test, the lines blurring as tears welled in my eyes. I was filled with fear and unexpected joy.

I was still in the maternity ward with Andy in my arms when I learned that my teenage so-called husband had skipped town. He’d told everyone not to bother looking for him because he was never coming back.

There I was, suddenly solo, with a newborn son in my arms. It was just me and my Andy, figuring out this dance of life together.

Since they came to town, Troy and his wife, Kelly, have become the best uncle and auntie that Andy could ever have, and thank the heavens above for it. Troy is a pillar in so many ways.

“Want me to come with? Give the boy a talking to?”

I wave him off. “I have to deal with this. And I’m going to be late for the joyous occasion of schmoozing with our town’s latest imports of testosterone and ego.”

“I could join at the schmoozing event, cancel plans with?—”

“No, no. You’ve suffered enough for one day,” I say with a smirk, nodding toward his groin. “Wish me luck.”

“They are the ones who need the luck.” He gives me a wink and walks—a bit awkwardly—toward his car. He took one for the team today.

I wave to the Happy Horizon’s staff and head toward my house at the front of the property, my mind racing through a dozen lectures I could give my son. But deep down, I know I’ll probably just hug him, relieved he’s safe from roof escapades, even if he is a miniature revolutionary. The truth is, my world might be full of battles, from inflatable ones to those fought in silent, desperate hope, but it’s also filled with unexpected allies, like Troy.

And tonight, I’ll face another kind of battle, one that requires a smile as my armor and patience as my weapon. Because whether I like it or not, those hockey players and their fundraising team might be the miracle Happy Horizons needs.

So, I’ll play the game, for now, keeping my skepticism as my closest confidant and my son’s antics as my secret motivation.

After all, if he can take on the school roof with the audacity of a born leader, I can surely take on a few hockey players for a good cause.