Читать книгу Make Her Wish Come True Collection - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 42

Chapter Six

Dante walked into the Fool’s Gold fire station with a list and an idea for a plan. He spotted Charlie by her rig and called out to her.

She turned to him and raised her eyebrows. “You’re wearing a suit.”

He glanced down at his clothes and then back at her. “Yes.”

“Looks uncomfortable.”

“I’m used to it.”

Charlie was tall, over five-ten, he would guess, with broad shoulders and plenty of muscle. He didn’t know much about what it took to be a firefighter, but he knew physical strength was a part of it. Still, at that moment, she had the happy, glowing smile of a woman in love.

“You didn’t come here to model clothes,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I heard you spoke to Evie about a work party for her sets. I wanted to talk to you about that. How do I get something like that organized?”

“You volunteering?”

“I am.”

“Know which end of a hammer hits the nail?”

“I’ve done construction.”

She looked him up and down. “I have my doubts.”

“It’s how I got through my fancy college.”

“Was it fancy?”

“There were bows and lace.”

She grinned. “Okay, I like a man who can take a little teasing. Now, about the work party. Do you know Patience McGraw?”

“No.”

“She’s a hair stylist, and her daughter is in Evie’s class. Which means nothing to you. Okay, the point is she mentioned the work party, as well. So we’ve been coordinating. Let me get my notes.”

She disappeared out a side door, then reappeared a minute later, carrying a piece of paper. There were a couple of dozen names and phone numbers on it.

“Evie has a supply list,” Dante told her. “We put that together when we went to see the sets.”

“Good. We’re thinking next Saturday. It’s early enough in the season that not everyone is busy.” She waved the names and phone numbers. “How many people are you willing to call?”

“As many as you want.”

“I like that. You have potential.” She tore the paper in half and handed one of the pieces to him. “Oh, and make sure Rafe, Shane and Clay are there. I keep meaning to mention it, but I haven’t yet and I’m working a double shift.”

“I’ll get them there.”

Charlie glanced at the list, then back at him. “Why are you helping Evie?”

A seemingly simple question with a complicated answer. Because the more he learned about her past, the more he wanted to knock a few heads together. As he couldn’t do that, making her current dance crisis better was the other option. Because she was dynamite in tights and he was a man who enjoyed a beautiful woman. But maybe, most honestly, because this time of year he always missed his mom and he knew that helping out Evie would make his mother proud.

“Christmas is my thing,” he said instead.

“Why do I think there’s more to that story?”

* * *

EVIE PUSHED THE play button on the CD player and waited for the familiar music to begin. She’d warmed up already, and her first class wasn’t for an hour. While there was plenty of paperwork to do and she still had to decide on the last transition in the show, she was restless. Her muscles nearly twitched, and her brain was fuzzy. She knew the solution. The question was, would her body cooperate?

She banged the box of her toe shoes against the floor a couple of times to make sure she’d tied them on correctly. The music surrounded her as she raised her arm. She silently counted to eight in her head, then, as the familiar notes filled the studio, moved both her feet and arms.

She’d never performed the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy,” although she’d been an understudy twice. Now she kept time with the music, landing in effacé en fondu. Her body wobbled slightly, but she kept on. Revelé and passé. Up. With ballet, the dancer was always lifting. In modern dance, she would go down first, as if scooping from the earth before going up, but in ballet, the goal was the sky. A turn and—

Pain ripped through her leg and her hip. Ignoring the fiery sensation, she raised herself again, her pelvis tucked, her body a perfect line from her head to her toes. Arms extended, her fingers curved delicately. The music guided her, the count pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.

She risked a glance in the mirror and immediately saw everything that was wrong. The sloppy extension, the bend of her elbow, the slight tilt. Voices echoed in her head. Calls for more crisp footwork, faster beats. Precision, perfection. The room seemed to bend and fade as time shifted. She was seventeen again and walking into class at Juilliard.

The dance continued, and when the last note was silent, she came down on her feet and walked to the remote to start it again.

By the third time through, her leotard was damp with sweat. By the fifth, every muscle trembled and the fire in her leg had become a volcano of pain. She was both here and in her past. Remembering how eager she’d been, how full of dreams. How six months into her first year at the prestigious dance school she’d been told she didn’t have what it took. Yes, she worked hard, was disciplined and determined. But she lacked the raw talent. The best she could hope for was the corps, with a second-rate company. They offered her the chance to leave rather than to be thrown out. A testament to their affection for her.

Evie’s right leg gave way. Still-recovering muscles had reached the point of exhaustion, and she went down hard on the wood floor. She lay there, panting, shivering. After a few minutes she sat up and untied her shoes, then tossed them across the room and rested her head against her knees.

There were no tears. Nothing to cry for. She couldn’t complain about what had been lost. Not when she’d never had it in the first place. Slowly the pain became manageable. She forced herself to her feet and limped over to the CD player to silence it before heading to the small restroom in the back of the studio.

She washed her face and made sure the braids around her head were still secure. She could see the sadness in her eyes, the lingering shadows of the pain, but doubted anyone else would notice. Her girls were excited about the performance. They all wanted to do their best.

She remembered what it was like to feel that way—back before she’d known that those kinds of dreams were impossible to hold on to. But maybe one of her students would have what it took. Maybe one of them would make it onto the stage and dance with a major company. They were on a journey, and she wanted to offer whatever guidance she could.

* * *

“I DON’T WORK for you.”

Shane made the statement from his place on the sofa in Rafe’s ranch house living room.

Dante nodded. “I’m glad you recognize that.”

“Technically I don’t work for him,” Rafe pointed out. “I work with him.”

“I’m with Shane,” Clay said. He was sprawled in the big recliner with the best view of the big screen. Not that the TV was on. “So I don’t come to your meetings.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” Dante told him.

It was shortly after noon on Tuesday. Rafe had been working from home. As Shane’s horses were on his property next to his brother’s, getting him over to Rafe’s house had been easy enough. Clay had texted he was available, as well, so here they all were.

“This Saturday is a work party. Charlie and Patience are setting it up.”

“Patience?” Rafe asked. “Do I know her?”

“She’s a hair stylist,” Clay said. “Friends with Charlie, Heidi and Annabelle. You’ve met her.”

“I don’t think so,” Rafe said, then glanced back at Dante. “But, okay. What does Patience have to do with anything?”

Dante groaned. “The point is the work party.”

“What’s it for?” Shane asked.

“Your sister.”

The three brothers stared at him blankly.

“I thought she was renting her townhouse,” Clay said. “What does she need help with?”

“The sets,” Dante told them.

“Sets of what?” Rafe asked.

Dante had unexpected empathy for the women in his life who, from time to time, had stared at him like he was the stupidest man on earth.

“The sets for the dance.”

Shane frowned. “Evie’s going to a school dance?”

“The Dance of the Winter King, you morons. Your sister teaches dance. There’s a performance on Christmas Eve. The manager of the school took off, leaving Evie in charge of everything. This is a big deal to the town, and she has to make it happen. The sets for the production are in bad shape. There’s going to be a work party to refurbish them, and you will all be there to help.”

The brothers looked at each other and then back at Dante.

“Sure,” Shane said. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Dante sank into the chair behind him and rested his head in his hands. “It’s too early for a beer, right?”

Rafe chuckled. “Don’t sweat it. Of course we’ll be there. When is it?”

“Saturday.” Dante told them where to be. “Bring tools and paintbrushes.” He raised his head. “Let me be clear. There won’t be any excuses and you will be on time. You’ll work hard, be cooperative and not do anything to upset your sister. Oh, and while I have you here, this is where I tell you that you will also be attending the performance. Got it?”

“Of course we’ll be there,” Rafe said, shifting in his seat. “We, ah, were always going to come.”

“Right.” Dante scowled at him. “You’re a crappy liar.”

“I know, but that makes me a good business partner.” Rafe drew in a breath. “Thanks for looking out for her.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

THE FIFTEEN OR SO GIRLS were crowded around Evie’s laptop, watching the DVD of the performance from three years ago.

“This is the part I was talking about,” Evie said. “Until that last four-count, the dance is beautiful. See how everyone moves together? Then it comes to an end and there are three beats of nothing, followed by everyone clomping off the stage.”

Melissa Sutton turned to Evie. “Do you really think they clomped?”

“I’m sure not in their hearts, but that’s what it looks like.” She walked away from the group, exaggerating her steps so she sounded more like an elephant than a dancer.

The girls all laughed.

“So we need something different,” Evie said. “Something more lyrical.”

Fifteen pairs of eyes watched her anxiously, both excited and a little nervous.

Her other classes were divided by age, skill level and style of dance. She had the six-year-olds who were awkward but adorable. The beginning class in tap and ballet for seven- to eleven-year-olds was popular. She taught one clog dancing class, several in modern dance. There were classes for those near-teens, who had several years of experience, and finally a ballet class for one group of serious students. Then there was this group—fifteen girls of all ages and abilities who were new to dance.

Melissa Sutton was the oldest, at fifteen. Her younger sister Abby was also in the class. The rest were around twelve or thirteen. The girls were tall, short and everything in between. A few were here because they had weight problems, and their pediatrician had suggested dance as a way to get exercise. None of them had any experience, and most lacked a sense of rhythm. But they were fun and enthused and Evie enjoyed teaching them. They were already nervous about the performance, and she wasn’t looking to increase their anxiety.

“I thought we would try something simple. Who here has seen Swan Lake?”

A few of the girls raised their hands.

Evie walked over to her computer and changed the DVDs. “There’s something called ‘Pas de Quartre of the Small Swans.’ It’s four dancers together. I thought we could do something like that, but in groups of five.”

She found the right part of the ballet and pushed the play button. The girls gathered around her computer. As the dance began, their eyes widened, and they all turned to stare at her.

“We can’t do that,” Melissa said. “We don’t know ballet. This is modern dance. And to go up on our toes like that?”

One of the bigger girls bit her lower lip. “I’d look stupid trying.”

“No,” Evie said quickly. “I’m not asking you to dance en pointe. I’m showing you the style of what I’m thinking we’ll do for our exit.”

She moved to the center of the room. “At the end of your dance, you’re all in a row. Bent over like this.” She counted the beats, then straightened and moved her arms.

“Now pretend I’m at the end of the row. We’ll do three groups of five dancers, so I would go forward three counts.” She motioned for Melissa to join her. “Stand here, with your arms crossed.”

Melissa took Evie’s left hand with her right.

“Good. Now quick steps to the right, on the balls of your feet, and one and two and three and four, straight, lifting.”

Melissa did as she said, and they moved across the floor. Evie released her. She bent forward, her arms still crossed in front of her, then straightened and moved four more steps.

“I haven’t gone to the stage yet, to do the actual count. I’m thinking it will be three combinations. As the first row moves to the right, the second row will move forward and follow.”

Melissa nodded slowly. “I get it. It’s the spirit of that bit from Swan Lake, without the scary parts.”

Evie laughed. “Exactly. Want to do it with me?”

“Sure.”

Evie put the music in the CD player. “We’ll start from the beginning.”

“One and two and three and four.”

Evie and Melissa moved together in the simple dance. Her leg was still sore from her workout the previous day, but she was used to working through the pain. As they finished the three-minute routine, she reached for Melissa’s hand and stepped to the side. The girl kept up, only stumbling twice.

“And we’re off the stage,” she said. “Easy enough?”

Her class glanced at each other, then back at her. Abby, Melissa’s sister nodded.

“I can do that.”

“Me, too,” one of the other girls said.

“I knew you could,” Evie told them. “Now everyone line up, and we’ll take it from the top.”

It took the rest of class, but by the end all the girls were comfortable with the transition. As her students walked out of the studio, Evie went to turn off the CD. Melissa followed her.

“You’re really patient with us,” the teen said.

“You’re great to work with.”

“I know we’re not as good as some of the other classes. I’ve seen Grace dance. She’s amazing.”

Grace was fourteen and one of the school’s most promising students. Starting in January, Evie would be working with her privately. While each of the performers would get a chance to shine at the show, Grace had one of the only two longer solos.

“She’s been studying since she was four,” Evie told Melissa. “That’s a long time.”

“I know. I really like coming here, though.”

“I’m glad. I hope you continue to dance.”

Melissa wrinkled her nose. “Could I ever dance on my toes?”

“Of course. It’s not that hard.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” Evie said with a laugh. “But you get used to it.”

Melissa grinned. “I can’t wait.” She hugged Evie, then ran out.

Evie followed her toward the reception area and was surprised to find Dante there. Several of the mothers were helping their daughters into winter coats and boots, although Evie noticed more than a few of the moms were glancing toward the handsome attorney.

She couldn’t blame them. The man dazzled in a suit. She had a feeling he would look just as good without one.

She watched her students leave, then turned to him.

“There’s no clog dancing tonight,” she said. “You have no reason to complain.”

His blue eyes were dark with an emotion she couldn’t read. He looked at the door, then back at her.

“Last class of the night?” he asked.

She nodded. “Everything will be quiet. Do you have to phone Shanghai again?”

“Not exactly.”

He took a step toward her, then put his hands on her waist and drew her against him. She went easily, wanting to feel his arms around her. She was overwhelmed by all she had to accomplish before the performance, a little freaked out by the holiday season and uncomfortable about having her family so close. The idea of forgetting all that in a passionate embrace suddenly seemed like a great idea.

He lowered his mouth to hers. She tilted her head, let her eyes close and her hands settle on his broad shoulders. Then she gave herself over to the soft, warm insistence of Dante’s kiss.