Excerpt
Chapter One
No one noticed Kate Wilson, which was unusual since her photograph appeared in all the newspapers and she carried a large skate bag with USA world team logo. Sudden anonymity was perfectly fine with her. Kate needed a rest from the roar of the crowd and the many interviews about her gold medal performance.
So, she sat in the crowded departure lounge at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris reading an English edition of the Le Monde sports section. It featured Grand Prix figure skating coverage and also served to hide her face behind the tent-like open pages.
For security reasons, she never traveled alone. But her father, who nearly always accompanied her to competitions, was obligated to take an earlier flight. Another top skater, Karla Bacher, had to stay on in the city with her parents.
Kate was engrossed in an opinion piece about the new judging rules, comparing each element of her short and long program, when a middle-aged woman approached wearing an International Skating Union (ISU) badge.
She asked Kate if she would mind stepping into the utility room across the corridor where a TV camera crew was set up to film a live spot for an afternoon news show.
“It will just take a couple minutes of your time,” the woman said hurriedly, with a forced smile. “We want you to talk about how you felt about the standing ovation Parisians gave you, and…”
Kate really didn’t want to do another interview. But she knew the responsibility of championship skaters and felt obligated to honor official ISU requests. She sighed, and nodded her agreement.
Almost instantly, she felt herself being gently pushed into the room. The camera and lights were in place. She wished Felix were there. A stylist smoothed her hair and pointed an aerosol can. The spray smelled sickly sweet. The room blurred. Kate tried to focus, but the darkness spread across her eyes.
Chapter Three
Felix Mendleson waved to the waiter for another round at the hotel Novetel cocktail lounge. He had just taken Kate to the airport after her exhibition program. He returned here to bask in the glow of being the winning coach of the November 2009 Ladies Singles at the Trophee Eric Bompard, part of the Grand Prix skating series.
Kate, 17, had snatched the gold medal from her chief rival, Karla, in what was proclaimed in Le Monde Sunday Sports section to be “an artistic skating achievement for the ages.” Kate’s photograph showed a confident smile and echoed the excitement of the packed arena’s thunderous standing ovation at the Palais Omnisports de Paris-Bercy.
“Felix, you’re buying drinks? This is a first,” Sophie Hellman, Karla’s coach said. She despised him, but felt compelled to feign friendly professionalism, especially tonight. The competition was over, but Sophie was focused on the US Nationals in two months. They led to the Vancouver Winter Olympics in February.
“Have you ever seen four minutes like Kate’s before?” Felix asked expansively. “I saw it in her eyes. I told her ‘don’t forget the flowers!’ as she skated out to start her program.”
A skating official and a sports reporter, who were seated at the table, nodded at the flower reference from the 1978 movie “Ice Castles.” Now, 31 years later, Kate was staring in her own movie of sorts.
Ralph Bacher, Karla’s father, looked bored. He knew their two remaining days of shopping and museums in Paris had been ruined. Muriel, his wife, would see to that. She was furious her daughter had taken second place.
“Kate’s the darling of Trophee Eric Bompard alright,” the reporter said toasting her.
“Here’s to Kate’s Olympic gold,” a fan said loudly, stopping at the table and lifting his glass to Felix. “To you, coach!” There was an awkward silence.
Karla forced a smile while kicking Sophie under the table. This was more than enough for Muriel. She leveled her eyes at Felix. Her feathered hat and dangling earrings bounced in cadence with her displeasure.
“Everyone knows my daughter won this competition! Sophie’s jumps were cleaner. She did every element perfectly. Kate double-footed her lutz, and your balletic hooey is pure crowd-pleaser fluff, FLUFF, FLUFF, I tell you!” Muriel fumed at Felix, slamming her fist on the table, which further excited the feathers on her hat.
“Mother!” Karla interrupted. Her father’s continuing silence confirmed who was in charge of their daughter’s Olympic quest. The people at the surrounding tables eyed Karla, cheerfully raising glasses, assuming the toast was a salute to her silver medal. Kate and Karla were featured on a recent cover of Sports Illustrated under the headline “Which ‘K’ will be golden?” Their competitive skating careers were hyped as “The World Ice Rivalry” which is why the Paris Grand Prix organizing committee had invited both US skaters.
Karla was referred to as the “Ice Queen” because of her “mechanical consistency,” not to mention her typically chilly disposition. Of the two components in scoring, her technical mark was usually unbeatable. It was the second artistic mark where she was vulnerable. Nevertheless, Karla was the odds-on favorite to win US Nationals… again.
Kate, slightly shorter and more athletic appearing, was called the “Nice Queen” for her “captivating smile and explosive natural talent,” as well as to provide a contrast to Karla. Kate trained at the University of Delaware and lived with her father in Wilmington. Karla lived with her parents in Los Angeles, where she trained.
Sophie looked at her wristwatch. 10:10 PM. Kate’s flight had left. “Well, everyone, time for bed,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mark flew back to Philadelphia to try to raise the $2 million demanded by Tony Sandesky. He pulled into his freight terminal yard, noticing how run-down the grounds looked – strewn slabs of corrugated cartons, broken wooden pallets, cigarette butts, twisted beer cans. Still on strike, the trucks were parked against the fence.
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