Icebreaker by Deirdre Martin

flight?” Susie asked.
    “Fine.”
    “You ever been anyplace this rural before?” Rick asked.
    “The town in Ireland where my parents grew up is pretty small.”
    “Huh.”
    Sinead couldn’t escape the feeling that he was suspicious of her. Perhaps it was a family trait.
    “Probably hard for you to believe Adam grew up here,” Rick continued casually.
    “I don’t know Adam well enough to have formed that opinion,” said Sinead. “Which is why I’m here.”
    Rick sighed heavily. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.”
    “Do you mind if I record our conversation?”
    “Why’d you need to do that?”
    “So I’m not distracted typing while I interview. And it allows me to quote you with complete accuracy if I need to.”
    “Okay,” he reluctantly agreed.
    “Tell me about Adam’s childhood.”
    “Not much to tell. I’m four years older than Adam. We were born and raised here.” He paused, taking a sip of coffee. “Our mother was a housewife; our dad was an autoworker.”
    “Rick’s an autoworker, too,” Susie added proudly.
    Rick shot his wife a dirty look. “ Was an autoworker,” he corrected bitterly. “I was laid off about a year ago.” He paused.
    “Anyway, I followed in Dad’s footsteps, but Adam went the hockey route.”
    “Meaning . . .” Sinead coaxed.
    “One of the ways to get out of a tiny town like this is by making it to the pros. Which Adam did when he was just eighteen.”
    “You didn’t play hockey?”
    “Oh, I played,” said Rick. “But not well enough. Not like Adam. No one played like Adam.”
    Sinead ignored the resentfulness in his voice and pressed on. “Was Adam well liked?”
    “Oh yeah, everyone loved Adam,” said Susie. “Did he tell you he donated the money for the new hockey rink?”
    “No, he didn’t.”
    “It was completely anonymous.”
    Sinead’s ears pricked up. “Anonymous? Can you tell me about it?”
    Rick looked distinctly unenthusiastic.
    “It’d be really helpful.”
    Rick looked put-upon. “All right. Well, obviously Susie and I knew about it, and the town council. But one of Adam’s stipulations for the donation was that it be anonymous.”
    “Why?”
    “Adam doesn’t like to draw attention to himself. He’s a pretty private guy.”
    No kidding, Sinead thought. The humility of Adam’s action surprised her. He sure as hell had no humility when it came to being a hockey player.
    “No one’s figured it out?” Sinead asked.
    “They probably have, but no one says anything about it. They know how he is, and they respect him.”
    “What was Adam like growing up?”
    Rick looked lost. “I don’t know. He was just Adam.”
    “Was he shy? Was he popular?”
    “Not shy, just private. Kept to himself. My parents used to joke that he didn’t say his first words until he was ten.”
    Sinead smiled at this. She could picture it, quiet Adam, concentrating on hockey.
    “How old was Adam when he started playing hockey?”
    Rick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Four, I guess. Four or five. That’s when all of us start. Coaches started to come watch him when he was twelve. He knew pretty early he’d be getting out of here.”
    Sinead was dying to explore Rick’s unmistakable strain of envy: Couldn’t you have left, too? Why did you stay? She decided to avoid what was obviously a very sore spot.
    “Was he always a hard hitter on the ice?”
    Rick paused. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”
    “It’s what he was known for,” Susie added.
    “I have to ask. Did he ever get in trouble with the law?” Sinead had already asked Adam, but she wanted to double-check.
    Rick snorted. “Saint Adam? No. Wait. Yeah, once: he got a speeding ticket when he was seventeen.”
    “What would you say are Adam’s best qualities?”
    “Generosity,” Susie said immediately.
    Rick looked irritated.
    “It is,” Susie insisted.
    “Hardworking,” Rick said. “He’s always busted his ass.” He took a sip of coffee. “Focused. Knew what