Page 17 of Slap Shot Surprise
“So like, if I quiz you on the basics of ice hockey, you’d get an A?”
She considered this as she sipped her champagne. “Try me.”
Straightening up, I turned around and parked my hips against the railing. “How many periods are there?”
“Three.”
“How long is each one?”
She chewed her lip. “Twenty minutes?”
“Not including the goalie, how many guys does each team start with on the ice?”
She thought for a second. “Five.”
“Okay, perfect score so far. I better give you a hard one.” I tipped up my beer and pondered my options. “What’s it called when one team has more players on the ice than the other because someone is serving a penalty?”
Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t know that one.”
“A power play.”
“Ah.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s right.”
“So you’ve at least heard of it.”
That earned me a flick on the shoulder. “Hey, I might not know everything about hockey, but I did grow up in Michigan.”
I laughed. “Okay, last one. What’s the trophy called that the playoff champion gets?”
“The Stanley Cup,” she answered triumphantly.
“Excellent. Four out of five right. Is that an A?”
“It’s a B-,” she said with a grin. “But I’ll take it.”
“Believe me, it’s way better than I’d do on any kind of history quiz or whatever you studied.”
“I studied a lot of history. Majored in anthropology.”
“That’s what your degree is in?”
“One of them.”
“How many do you have?”
“Beyond the B.A., I have an M.A. with a specialization in Historical Anthropology and a Ph.D. with specializations in Historical Archaeology and Museum Studies.” She said it like it was no big deal, but I could only imagine how much work it had been.
“Damn. That’s impressive. Does that mean you’re, like, adoctor?”
“I mean, technically. Academically.” She seemed slightly embarrassed. “But I don’t use the title day to day. Only when I’m teaching at the college level.”
“So you’re a professor too?”
“Just part-time.” Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she glanced out over the surging lake. The wind had picked up, and the metallic clank on the harbor flagpole was louder and more frequent. “Sounds like the storm is getting closer. Should we go in?”
“In a minute.” I didn’t feel like talking to anyone else...or sharing her. “Did you play a sport in high school?”
“I ran cross country.”
