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Washington, DC

January 1982

Frigid air, skates scraping against the ice, the scent of stale popcorn. Amaliya

Marcell sat in one of the twenty thousand seats of the Cap Centre and laced up

her figure skates before she tugged her leg warmers into place and watched

while twenty hockey players worked through their last drill.

As soon as they finished, they joined her father at center ice.

The great Robert Marcell. Amaliya still missed watching her father

compete, but his transition from player to assistant coach to head coach had

allowed her to enjoy her routine of spending time with her dad at work. She

could hardly remember a Saturday when the Washington Capitals were home

and she hadn’t been here with him.

Travis, the goalkeeper, stepped off the ice and gave her a disapproving

shake of his head. “You’re wearing the wrong skates again.”

“You sound like my dad.”

“Coach knows what he’s talking about,” Travis said.

“Maybe for you, but I don’t think I’m going to be joining a hockey team

anytime soon.” Amaliya stepped past him. “Figure skates are more my style

these days.”

“Too bad. With a bit more practice, maybe you could score on

me.”Amaliya’s eyebrows lifted. “I scored a goal on you last week.”

“That was a lucky shot.”

“That’s what he always says,” her dad said as he joined them.Amaliya

grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

“Travis, get some rest. It’s the kid’s turn to play.”

“Kid?” Amaliya stepped onto the ice and twirled to face her dad. “I hate

to break it to you, but I’ll be an adult next week.”

“Don’t remind me,” Robert groaned.“Good luck, Coach.” Travis started

toward the locker room.

“Thanks. I’m going to need it.” Robert turned his attention to Amaliya

and spoke in French, his preferred language, thanks to his upbringing in

Quebec. “Are you going to play a little one-on-one with your old man?”“Don’t

you have to check on your players?”

“I can spare a few minutes.” He tapped his stick against the ice. “Show

me what you’ve got.”

“Okay.” Amaliya combined her years of ballet training with growing up

on the ice and executed a spin that resembled a pirouette.

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“When you skate like that, you look like a ballerina on the ice.”Amaliya

laughed. “I am a ballerina on the ice.”

“Honey, I hate to break it to you, but most ballerinas can’t do that once

they put on ice skates.”

“If you say so.” She skated backward so she could still see her dad.

“You’re going to let me skate while you’re in your meetings, right?”

Robert grabbed an extra hockey stick and held it out. “Play a little hockey

with me first, and I might be persuaded.”Amaliya made a quick stop and

returned to her father. She took the offering and grinned. “Deal.”