License to Dill by Mary Ellen Hughes Page A

prickly owner, who’d given her trouble since day one. Which was a shame, since by all accounts Charlotte Hosch made totally wonderful fudge and candies. Looking into the box of meltaways, Piper groaned internally. The chocolate-covered, velvety-smooth candies were indeed her favorite sweet indulgence. Though she noticed Will staring ahead stiffly, there was no way Piper could turn down Scott’s offer, insidious though she recognized it to be.
    She reached into the box with a restrained “thank you,” then tried not to moan as the candy touched her taste buds.
    Scott grinned, then held the candy out to the others—Erin, Megan, and Aunt Judy each happily taking one. He popped a piece into his own mouth. “Hey, not bad. Maybe even better than that place we used to go to in Albany. Piper, remember when—”
    A sudden roar from the crowd thankfully drowned Scott out, and Piper looked onto the field to see the Cloverdale team celebrating a goal.
    â€œWoo-hoo!” Megan crowed, pumping a fist, and Piper kicked herself for missing the big moment. She became determined to pay more attention to the game and less to the temptations around her.
    The teams regrouped on the field, and Piper noticed Conti once more berating his coach. He then walked over to one of his players and had a long discussion. A glance toward the Bianconeri coach showed him to be pointedly ignoring Conti while calling out encouragements to his team.
    The game progressed, and Bianconeri scored a goal, eliciting groans from the Cloverdale crowd. As consolation, more food was shared within Piper’s group. Piper, summoning up her willpower, turned down a second meltaway from Scott but accepted a homemade brownie from Aunt Judy to make up for it.
    For the rest of the first half and much of the second, the ball traveled up and down the field with little result. Goals were attempted but blocked, and the clock ticked closer to the end of the match.
    â€œWhat happens if it’s tied?” Erin asked. “Will they go to overtime?”
    Several voices around her answered at once, explaining the ten-minute, sudden-death overtime procedure.
    â€œToo bad it can’t just end in a draw,” Aunt Judy said. “With no one coming out the loser.”
    Piper doubted Raffaele Conti would be satisfied without a clear win. A glance his way, though, showed him looking surprisingly calm as he stood near his team.
    â€œOoh-ooh, we have the ball,” Megan cried. “Go, go, go!”
    The Cloverdale players passed and maneuvered expertly down the field, moving steadily toward their goal. Then they were surrounded by Bianconeri players, who struggled to take the ball back. Piper lost sight of who had what for several moments in the crush of players. Suddenly a whistle blew and all play stopped. The referee ran over and players spread apart, all except one black-and-white-uniformed player who writhed on the field, clutching his leg.
    â€œWho is it? Is it number twelve? Frederico?” Megan asked.
    â€œNo,” Scott said. “I see Frederico. He’s okay.”
    The group could hear the cries of pain all the way from the field, and Aunt Judy pressed her hand to her lips in worry. They watched in silence as trainers, coaches, and assistants came to examine the injured player, then a stretcher was brought to carry the young man to the side.
    â€œOh, that poor boy,” Aunt Judy cried. “What will happen now?”
    â€œBianconeri gets a penalty kick. He’s claimed a foul,” Uncle Frank answered.
    â€œNo, I meant with the boy! Did he break something? He sounds in terrible pain.”
    â€œLet’s wait and see. There’s people looking after him,” Uncle Frank said. “Right now we’re in danger of losing the game.”
    â€œFrank!” Aunt Judy said disapprovingly, but the attention of all had refocused on the penalty kicker.
    â€œNo, no, no,” Megan pleaded softly, and