Slow Dancing at Sunrise

by Jo McNally

  Cecile waved her hand, showing her phone screen to everyone. “There are all kinds of apps, like Tinder and stuff, where people hook up, or pick up a partner for a threesome, or...”

  “Whoa!” Rick grabbed her phone. “That was a pretty specific example, Cecile. Where did that come from?” He looked at the screen. “And why do you have one of those apps on your phone?”

  Heads swiveled to Cecile. It wasn’t the first time she’d hinted she and Charlie had a different sort of sex life. Cecile’s cheeks went pink, matching her cardigan. She snatched back her phone. “Anyway, if people make a match online—” she gave Rick a pointed look “—I’ve heard they often meet somewhere public the first time, usually just for a drink or even coffee. They don’t commit to more than that unless they know they hit it off.”

  Vickie rested her chin in her hand, tapping her cheek with a manicured finger. “Cecile, darling, one of these days you and I need to talk about your marriage. But for now, let’s focus. If Helen can convince Whitney to agree to some innocent coffee dates, all we’d have to do is find some fellas we think would be a good fit. College-educated professionals, like her. Successful. Well-mannered.” Her brows furrowed. “Who do we know that fits that bill? Let’s start a list...”

  Lena frowned. “Do you really think this is a good idea, Helen? I mean, who are we to decide what kind of man she needs? And let’s not forget that she doesn’t need a man at all...” Lena had marched in the ’60s and still considered herself a social justice warrior.

  Cecile interrupted what was sure to be a women’s rights lecture. “But if she finds someone, she might stay with Helen a little bit longer.”

  Lena looked over to Helen. “Is that what you want?” Helen didn’t answer right away, imagining how nice it would be to have Whitney nearby. Lena smiled knowingly. “I see.”

  They soon had a short list of Whitney-eligible bachelors. Even Rick pitched in after a while, naming a fellow professor from the college.

  “Leonard might be a little old for her, though.” Rick took a sip of pinot noir. “I think he’s in his midforties, but he teaches economics, so they could talk numbers for days.” He glanced at his smart watch. “Ladies, it’s after nine, and I have a tee time in the morning.”

  “I still can’t wrap my head around the idea of you taking up golf.” Lena stood and starting cleaning up the plates and napkins.

  Rick shrugged. “It’s all about the networking. I’m on the endowment committee now, and the best place to talk rich guys out of their money is on the golf course. Besides, I can wear the silliest clothes and no one bats an eye.” He turned to Helen. “Are we really doing this matchmaking thing? Do I need to ask the drama department to perform Fiddler on the Roof next semester?” He started humming the melody to the matchmaker song from the musical.

  Helen stared at the list of five names scribbled onto a napkin in front of her. It would be nice if Whitney stayed longer. “We only do this if Whitney agrees to it, and it’s only for coffee.”

  * * *

  WHITNEY SAT AT The Spot, drumming her fingers on the table. Evie giggled from behind the counter. Again. Not helping. But who could blame her? This was a ridiculous, juvenile, desperate thing Whitney had agreed to do. She was cringing in embarrassment before her “date” even arrived.

  A shudder went through her at the thought of Helen’s so-called book club—a bunch of senior citizens who apparently had nothing better to do—dissecting her love life as if she was their latest novel. The nerve, especially after the debacle of Vickie and Helen setting her up with Mark. And yet here she was, in her white capris and cheery blue top, which Evie had assured her was neither too racy nor too prudish. Waiting for a college professor named Leonard.

  Why had she said yes?

  Because she couldn’t say no to Aunt Helen. They were both struggling this summer, but there was no comparison between losing a job and losing the love of your life. Helen had finally confessed how she’d been almost catatonic with grief after Tony’s sudden death. She told Whitney she craved a sense of romance and fun, even if was vicariously through Whitney. And what harm was there in it? Making Helen smile was worth a couple weird coffee dates.

  Besides, Helen had made another fair point. Whitney had been sorting papers and creating spreadsheets for too many hours. She was starting to crave human interaction. Evie was a great friend, but Mark Hudson was occupying a lot of Evie’s free time these days.

  Whitney’s hours tagging along behind Luke didn’t count, since he was barely human to her, and ignored her questions about the winery more often than not. He thought she was trying to trip him up and prove he was doing something nefarious. And she was, in a sense. She didn’t have a shred of proof, but her suspicion that he knew more about the finances than he was letting on wouldn’t go away. She hadn’t found any sign of the rent he claimed he’d paid, and there were gaps in the records that still had no explanation.

  What Luke didn’t get was that she also wanted to understand the business. That was part of an auditor’s job—understanding standard operating procedures and putting them together with the numbers to see what lined up and what needed to be investigated or changed. And she honestly wanted to know more about the business her aunt and uncle had built. As a child, Falls Legend had been a farm that happened to grow grapes. A pretty place with a pretty house and pretty gardens near a magical little town full of other pretty houses. But she wasn’t a child now, and she was curious to know more about the successful winery Tony had created with Helen’s—and apparently Luke’s—help.

  The tinkle of the brass bell over the restaurant door made her jump. She looked up to see an older gentleman in pressed jeans and a tidy oxford shirt buttoned nearly to the collar. He wasn’t geriatric or anything, but Helen’s friends had been way off when they said he was “around forty.” He had to be at least twenty years her senior. His eyes met hers and he gave her a tentative smile.

  “Whitney?”

  She stood and extended her hand, trying not to make this too much like a business meeting. Behind the counter, Evie was practically swallowing her dishrag trying not to laugh out loud.

  “Leonard? Nice to meet you. Won’t you join me?”

  Oh, god, it was just like a business meeting. She heard Evie choking, probably thinking the same thing.

  That feeling didn’t change as their conversation continued over blueberry muffins and coffee. Leonard was a nice man, and dedicated to his study of economics. Very dedicated. It was apparently the only subject he was comfortable discussing. At one point, Whitney said something about the campus’s enviable location on the lakeshore, and Leonard was affronted, claiming the town had squandered valuable waterfront property over a century ago when they bequeathed it to the college.

  “Having an institution of education on a lake provides no value to that institution, and robs the community of the potential tourist dollars that propel our economic engine.”

  “But doesn’t the college bring a lot of revenue to Rendezvous Falls?” Her mind was growing numb.

  “Of course! But the college doesn’t need to be taking up space on the waterfront to do that.” He pushed his plate aside, warming up to the subject. “If the town could entice the school to move to a different property, the campus property could be converted to commercial use and create a substantial tax revenue.”

  Whitney had a hard time imagining a move like that ever happening. “Have you discussed this with anyone at the school? Or in Rendezvous Falls?”

  He waved his hand in dismissal, slumping back in his seat. “No one has any vision here. The college board laughed, and the mayor wasn’t any better. He reacted as if I’d suggested he give up a limb.”

  Whitney could imagine so. Leonard’s numbers made sense on face value, which normally would appeal to her, but he was missing the cultural essence of the community. She couldn’t believe she was spending brain cells on th
is plan that would never happen. She popped the last bite of muffin into her mouth and smiled at earnest-faced Leonard.

  “My aunt is expecting me back at the winery before three.” That was a lie. “We have to go over some papers together.” Not quite a lie. There were mountains of papers still to be sorted. But she didn’t want her aunt anywhere near them. “It’s been a pleasure chatting with you, Leonard.” A pleasure might be a stretch. He jumped to his feet when she moved to stand.

  “Oh! Okay. Um...yes. It was a lovely time, wasn’t it?” She didn’t answer, for fear of going to hell if she stretched the truth one more time today. He reached for his wallet. “I’ll take care of the tab.”

  “Only for yourself. I took care of mine before you arrived.”

  She could pay her own way, thank you very much. Leonard’s eyes widened again, then he nodded, mumbling something about changing times before shaking her hand and saying goodbye. He didn’t ask to see her again, saving them both an awkward conversation.

  Aunt Helen and her nosy book club pals were pretty bad matchmakers so far. Mark was nice, but it turned out he was still crazy about his high school sweetheart, Evie. And Leonard was old enough to be her father. She waved goodbye to a still-laughing Evie, ignoring her “sugar daddy” comments, and headed out to her car. She was doing this to make Helen happy and get out of the house. She was not looking for a soul mate in Rendezvous Falls. They hadn’t set her up with an ax murderer or anything, so their lack of skill was harmless.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LUKE WAS COMING OUT of the barn to finish spreading the last of the gravel, Molly close at his heels, when he saw Helen weeding her flower garden. Wait. She was what? He stopped so fast Molly ran into his leg, then gave him a WTF? expression. Helen hadn’t shown interest in the once beautiful rose garden since losing Tony. She smiled from where she was kneeling when he walked over, shielding the sun from her eyes.

  “Where’s your garden hat?” Luke asked. She used to wear a huge, floppy-brimmed straw hat Tony had bought her on one of their trips to Italy. A wide strip of colorful fabric had wound around and through it to tie in a big bow. Helen often tied it off to the side, telling Tony it made her feel like Sophia Loren. Tony always had the same answer: Sophia’s got nothing on you, tesoro mia. Helen had always been Tony’s “treasure.”

  The wave of loss hit Luke hard. He’d been forced to keep a tight lid on his grief over Tony once he’d realized Helen was falling apart. She’d been proud and strong through those first difficult days. But when the funeral luncheon was over and everyone had left, she’d barely made it to the front porch before collapsing. That’s when he knew he had to be the one standing strong for her.

  But Tony’s sudden death from a heart attack at the top of the vineyard had gutted Luke. The man had been everything to him—father, mentor, boss, friend. And in an instant, he was gone. It left Luke feeling unmoored. Helen’s hand on his arm snapped him from his thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed she’d stood.

  “Luke, I’m sorry. I brought back a bad memory for you...”

  He blinked rapidly, then put his hand over hers. They hadn’t talked about Tony much. “Not a bad one, Helen. I was thinking of that hat, and how Tony used to tease you...” He stopped, knowing how emotional Helen got when Tony’s name came up.

  Her eyes shone bright, but clear, as she laughed softly. “My Sophia Loren hat. I remember. I think it’s up in my closet, but I haven’t worn it in so long I forgot about it.” She looked around the garden, about half of it weeded, then nodded, as if in approval of her own hard work. “Most of the roses survived my neglect, but they need attention. And the planters on the porch are still empty in July. I don’t know if I’ll find many summer plants to buy this time of year, but Sylvia’s nursery might have something. Geraniums would be nice, don’t you think?”

  He grinned down at her. “Red ones? With the little white things hanging down? Tony said it was like the Italian flag.” And there he went again, saying Tony’s name out loud. But Helen didn’t flinch.

  “That’s right. It might be a little late in the season, but I’ll see what Sylvia has. It’s been too long since I’ve paid her a visit.” Her voice trailed off. “It’s been too long for a lot of things.”

  He patted her hand, his throat tight. “Can’t change the past, Helen. But look at you now—out here in the garden, trimming your roses. Tony would love that.”

  She nodded slowly, with no sign of the tears he kept bracing for. “He would love it. But he wouldn’t love the way this place looks. We have to get it cleaned up before the fall tours arrive. And we have to be ready for the festival.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Do you really think we can do it?”

  They didn’t have a choice. Not if they wanted to be in business next year. There was no way Luke could let Tony’s dream fail. Not on his watch. He’d have to find a few extra hours in every day. Maybe give up bartending? No. He’d lose the truck without that job. Hire someone? No money in the budget for that. At least none he knew of. And he didn’t think Whitney would be sharing the books with him any time soon.

  As if he’d summoned her out of thin air, her red SUV came up the driveway and stopped next to the garden. Whitney jumped out, brushing dark hair over her shoulder, looking between him and Helen.

  “What happened? Are you okay, Aunt Helen?”

  It took him a few seconds to understand. She wasn’t any more used to seeing Helen working in the garden than he was. She’d seen Helen leaning on Luke’s arm and panicked. He probably would have done the same. It was the one and only thing they had in common—caring about Helen.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he assured her. “Helen decided to work in the garden, and she and I were talking about old times.”

  Helen huffed a soft laugh. “I’m more concerned with new times right now.” She turned to her niece. “I suddenly realized how much work we have to do here before the festival, and I’m not sure it can be done.”

  Whitney looked around, then met Luke’s eyes. Their gazes locked, and, without saying a word, they came to an agreement. The fact that they were able to do it so effortlessly sent a shock wave right through him. How could he be on the same wavelength with a woman who spent most of her time irritating the hell out of him?

  Whitney took Helen’s other hand, showering the woman with one of her breathtaking smiles. He could feel Helen relaxing in the warmth of it. Even more surprising, there was a warmth growing in his chest, too. Whitney’s eyes flickered to him before returning to Helen.

  “We will be ready. I’ll make sure of it. When is this festival, anyway? What needs to be done?”

  “It’s next month, honey. September. The garden...the parking lot...the tasting room...setting up a booth at the festival...maybe a float for the parade? Plus we’ll be starting harvest. Oh, I don’t know...”

  Whitney’s gaze met his again. She was asking for his help. He couldn’t come up with anything to say. Her brow quirked in amusement at his stunned expression, and she reassured Helen again.

  “We’ll make it happen. Luke and I can work together. Right, Luke?”

  His first impulse was to give her a sarcastic insult and walk away. That was the safe thing to do. The expected thing. The smart thing.

  Instead, he found his head bobbing in agreement.

  “Absolutely. We’ll figure it out.” He had no freaking idea how, but he was in it now, and he couldn’t let Helen down.

  Helen smiled brightly, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “You two make me think we might just do that.” She reached up and patted her dark gray hair. “Sorry for panicking. I think the garden overwhelmed me...” She looked at the half that was still choked in weeds.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Whitney said. “Let me change and I’ll come out and help you with the rest of this.”

  “Wonderful!” Helen stopped. “Oh! I almost forgot to ask you about your date. How was
it?”

  Ice water hit Luke’s veins. Date? Who the hell was Whitney dating? Had Mark Hudson moved out of the friend zone? Had she gone out with him last night? His jaw tightened, then he noticed Whitney’s face. Judging from her expression, the date hadn’t been a showstopper.

  “Leonard’s a nice man.”

  Leonard? Leonard who?

  Helen chuckled. “Ouch. A ‘nice man,’ huh?”

  Whitney shrugged. “There wasn’t anything bad about him. He’s quite a bit older than me. We had a nice conversation over coffee, but...” She shrugged again.

  Luke’s curiosity got the best of him. “You had a coffee date? Today? With who?”

  Whitney gave him a sharp look. He was pretty sure she’d forgotten he was standing there. Her voice got its edge back.

  “Yes, I met someone for coffee. The ‘with who’ is none of your business.”

  Her eyes raked up and down his body, making him sharply aware of his dirty cargo shorts and torn T-shirt. He’d been headed to spread crushed stone and level the driveway, not have tea and crumpets.

  “Whatever. A boring afternoon coffee date just seems a little tame for someone like you.”

  He walked away without bothering to listen to her muttered response, but he was pretty sure there were a few curse words in there.

  * * *

  TWO DAYS LATER, Whitney scowled at the wine display, blinking away her exhaustion. She’d spent an hour reorganizing the bottles by the color of the labels, creating a rainbow effect along the left wall of the tasting room. It looked good, but now she wondered if she shouldn’t create diagonal lines of color instead of vertical. She glanced outside. The sun was just rising over the far side of the Seneca Valley.