by Lynne Gentry
Dancing Shoes
Another
Mt. Hope Southern Adventure
Book Three
Lynne Gentry
Dancing Shoes (Mt. Hope Southern Adventures, Book Three)
Copyright © 2017 by Lynne Gentry
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously.
Cover photo © 2017 Lynne Gentry
Cover Design by Castle Creations
Edited by Gina Calvert
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Summary
When you realize you’ve been home all along...
The time has come for the widowed Leona Harper
to make a fresh start.
Leaving the parsonage means she’ll need a home of her own.
Complicated finances force Leona to work with Saul Levy,
but she refuses to allow the uptight lawyer to impede
her makeover plans.
When a handsome old friend blows into town,
Leona is faced with her toughest decision yet.
Save the world, or dare to dance with a very unlikely partner?
Return to Mt. Hope, the West Texas town reminiscent of Mitford.
Enjoy the hilarious world created by
Romantic Times Top Pick author Lynne Gentry.
Fast-paced humor. Tear-jerking candor.
Heart-melting romance.
MT. HOPE SOUTHERN ADVENTURES
Walking Shoes
Shoes to Fill
Dancing Shoes
Baby Shoes
WOMEN OF FOSSIL RIDGE SERIES
Flying Fossils
MEDICAL THRILLER
Ghost Heart
Check out Lynne Gentry’s
Sci-Fi/Time Travel Adventures
The Carthage Chronicles
Healer of Carthage
Return to Exile
Valley of Decision
A Perfect Fit
Shades of Surrender
For Anyone
who has ever prayed for a second chance.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Leona dragged a strip of packing tape over the last moving box.
“Momma, you don’t have to do this you know?” David took the tape dispenser from her hand. “There’s plenty of room for you here.”
Leona gazed into the conflicted eyes of her son. When had her little boy become such an admirable man? “David, you and your beautiful wife have bent over backwards to make me feel welcome, but there’s not a parsonage in the world big enough for two pastor’s wives.”
Her relationship with her daughter-in-law was a tender shoot. Leona prayed untangling her roots and repotting her life would give Amy’s love for her space to grow. However, maintaining good family relations wasn’t the sole motivation pushing Leona out the door.
This move would test her on every level. Everyone had counseled her not to do anything rash for over a year. Except for taking on a paying job, she’d heeded their well-meaning advice. As she became more competent at the local newspaper, the grief-induced brain fog slowly began to lift. She still had those occasional gray days, but she was anxious to try out her wings and start to live again.
These last few months, she’d come to the conclusion that no matter how long she waited to begin her new life as a single woman, her decision to leave the parsonage would not only test her mettle, it would set tongues to wagging.
Other than wearing red heels whenever she pleased, she still steered clear of anything remotely capable of garnering disapproval from anyone, especially church members. Buying her own house, living her own life, dancing to her own tune would seem the natural progression of things for most widows putting their lives back together. For an ex-pastor’s wife, however, striking out on her own could appear that she didn’t appreciate the care the church had given her. That wasn’t the case at all. She was very grateful. For her, launching herself into the world was throwing caution to the wind. Letting go of what she knew in order to embrace whatever God had waiting for her.
If J.D.’s death had taught her anything, it was that life was too short not to be lived to one’s full potential. She’d thought it over and prayed until she was blue in the face. Moving was the next step on her journey.
David took her finished box and stacked it on the growing pile. “You’re not in the way, Momma.”
“It’s time for you and Amy to make this house your home.”
“Leona!” Roxie, the redheaded fireball from next door and Leona’s best friend, yelled through the screen door. “You’ve got an offer on the suits.”
Roxie swore that Leona’s move across town wouldn’t change their friendship, but they both knew they’d miss the gate between their shared fence.
“Be right there.” Leona took her son’s hand. “David, you’ve given me an extra eighteen months in the parsonage. That’s six months beyond our original agreement. The only way I’m going to know if I’ve got my feet under me is to let go and leap.” She didn’t mention how David and Amy’s increased trips to the city kept them so busy they probably wouldn’t even miss her. Instead, she kissed his cheek. “It’s time for me to make my own home.” Before the tears she’d been holding back betrayed her, Leona sprinted out onto the large wrap-around porch.
Roxie was making change from an old metal tackle box Leona had decided to keep. “Didn’t know if you were flexible on the price,” Roxie pointed to the young man thumbing through the suits hanging on the rope strung between two porch pillars.
“Wonder what Angus wants with a bunch of old suits,” Leona whispered.
Roxie snapped the tackle box shut. “Let’s ask him.”
Leona followed Roxie as she blazed a trail between the people pawing through the odd assortment of knickknacks and furniture pieces Leona had chosen to part with. As they passed each prospective buyer, Leona handed out good mornings like she was an official church greeter.
Roxie scowled over her shoulder. “Hell’s bells, Leona. You’re hosting a garage sale, not a church social.”
Old habits were hard to break, harder still when acceptance meant the definitive end of everything she knew.
These were the facts:
Those days were over.
Her pastor husband was dead.
She was no longer a pastor’s wife.
It was no longer her job to make everyone feel welcome at the parsonage. She was handing off that responsibility to her new daughter-in-law. And she had full confidence Amy would do fine. This bright young nurse wasn’t like her. Amy wouldn’t allow herself to be saddled with the expectations of others. She was her own wo
man, a trait Leona wished she’d acquired earlier in life.
Roxie was right. How could she start a new life if she didn’t let go of her old life? She should be trying to make sales and finish up the details for the move to the little house she’d bought. The 1960’s ranch had only two small closets and ten fewer rooms than the huge parsonage she’d lived in for nearly twenty years. She’d chosen the claustrophobic layout for one purpose: less space...less room to feel alone.
Downsizing seemed like the next logical step. She didn’t need a lot of space. Especially now that she was working at the newspaper full-time. Modyne made it her business to see that Leona’s job assignments left her little energy for cleaning or entertaining.
So far, Roxie was the only person, other than her two children, who knew the real reason she’d put in an offer on a fixer-upper as far away from the church as possible. She could have built a dream home on the lake, but she preferred to keep the exorbitant amount of money J.D. had left her a secret. Years of pinching pennies was a habit as difficult to break as acting like a pastor’s wife.
The kids wanted her to take her dream vacation to the Mediterranean, buy a new car, and purchase the parsonage. Although she’d always wanted to travel, the van had close to three hundred thousand miles on it and might be good for fifty thousand more. She’d love to own the house she’d called home for nearly twenty years. But spending J.D.’s money on herself felt wrong, especially when there were so many needy causes in the world.
So she’d written a few checks. Secretly.
Her first anonymous contribution went to a missionary she and J.D. had known since college. A few months before J.D. died, Roy McGee lost his sweet wife to dengue fever. J.D. had asked the church board to finance Roy’s much-needed sabbatical. Budget shortfalls cut the legs out from under J.D.’s argument. Oh, how J.D. would have enjoyed the surprise on Howard’s face if he’d been the one who opened the anonymous offering envelope earmarked for Roy’s return.
Next, she’d shared with her children. She’d paid off Maddie’s medical school debt, bought her daughter a fully-furnished downtown condo for her medical residency stint, and spent a lavish sum on David and Amy’s wedding, complete with the exotic honeymoon like the one J.D. had always promised they would take together one day.
She’d assumed church gossip would assign the windfall credit to her mother. However, she couldn’t hide behind Roberta forever. Explaining how a widowed pastor’s wife had purchased a house, no matter how small, wouldn’t slip past Maxine.
Since their shared, and very public embarrassment, of getting high after accidentally eating pot brownies before the Christmas Eve service a year ago, Maxine had dropped her interest in renewing their old friendship. In fact, the board chairman’s wife had returned to her hateful old tricks with a vengeance. Only this time, David and Amy’s continued involvement with Angus and his vagrant friends had put them squarely in Maxine’s sights. Leona may have agreed to step away from the parsonage and her former ministry obligations, but she wasn’t about to give Maxine a reason to pull the trigger on David’s ministry or his marriage.
Thus the need for a garage sale. One big enough to convince Maxine that Leona was scraping funds together.
“How much for all of these?” Angus Freestone held up J.D.’s herringbone tweed jacket. The lanky boy had filled out considerably since David had helped him move into his grandmother’s apartment behind her diner, proof that eating at the Koffee Kup was as detrimental to one’s waistline as Leona had long believed.
“Angus, why would you want these old suits?” Leona asked. “Wouldn’t you rather have this little bookshelf? It’s just the right size for a dorm room.”
“No, ma’am.” Angus slipped his arms into the jacket. “Reverend David says a person only gets one shot to make a good first impression.” He grinned, extending his arms to check the fit. “And that’s exactly what I’m fixin’ to do.”
Leona couldn’t help but smile at how quickly Angus had picked up southern slang and at how close the bond had become between her son and Ruthie Crouch’s grandson. Unlike Maddie, who’d made it abundantly clear her future did not include children, David was a natural when it came to kids. He would have made a terrific father.
Leona pushed the ache of never having grandchildren from her mind. God knew Amy’s health issues when he chose her for David. From the happiness and contentment on her son’s face, anyone with half a brain could tell Amy was the one for David ... diabetic limitations and all. As much as Leona would love to argue her son’s case before the Lord, there were many things God had done over the last eighteen months that didn’t make sense. Taking J.D. at his prime was first on her list.
“Exactly, who are you needing to impress, Angus?” Roxie asked.
“The scholarship committee at Abilene Christian University.” Angus adjusted the jacket sleeves. “My counselor says I’ve got the test scores and the inspiring story. All I need now is a good haircut and a suit for the interview.”
“Tell you what,” Leona lifted the jacket off his shoulders. “Why don’t you let me buy you a suit? One that fits properly.”
“No, ma’am. The Harpers have already done more for me than I can ever repay.” Angus lifted the other suits off the line. “This scholarship is somethin’ I’ve got to earn on my own. I’ve been savin’ my tips at the diner for these necessary expenditures.” He pulled out a ten and two fives. “I think this is a fair price for the lot, don’t you?”
“You drive a hard bargain, Angus Freestone.” Leona took the worn bills from his hand. “Any college would be blessed to have you.”
As she watched Angus tote the last of her dead husband’s belongings down the sidewalk, a warm spring breeze brushed the top of Leona’s head. J.D.’s kiss of approval, she thought to herself.
Roxie’s elbow poked Leona’s ribs. “Here comes your lawyer friend.”
“Technically, he’s J.D.’s attorney. And he’s not my friend.”
Roxie sighed. “That doesn’t make him any less handsome.”
Briefcase in hand and single purpose radiating from his set jaw, Saul Levy’s march toward the parsonage was going to force him squarely into the path of Angus. The two had not spoken since Angus’ accidental involvement with the pot in the Christmas brownies. Leona braced for the inevitable meeting and she could see Angus stiffen as well. To her surprise, Saul acknowledged Angus with a curt nod. Acknowledgement was progress, but it did not indicate full forgiveness. However, Leona took this tiny gesture as a sign Saul’s wariness toward the boy was thawing.
Finally.
Since that fiasco, Angus had matured in mind, body, and spirit, thanks to the involvement of loving people like his grandmother Ruthie and David and Amy. It was way past the time for Saul to let his distrust go. Mentally shaking an accusing finger at him, she suddenly felt a finger of guilt pointing back at her.
She hadn’t spoken to Saul, other than when business demanded, since she’d discovered he’d helped her husband with his secret legal affairs. Technically, Saul could make the point that she hadn’t let go of her animosity, let alone her distrust.
Leona waved, trying to ignore the lump of hypocrisy creeping up her throat. “Hey, Saul.”
The ex-JAG lawyer had long ago traded his military uniform for three-piece, well-fitted suits, but he was never without his aviator glasses. Leona couldn’t get used to the idea of a man who dressed so intimidatingly formal during the week. “Suits are for Sunday,” J.D. had always said, insisting his jeans and boots related to the locals. The size of J.D.’s funeral had proved his theory correct. Her rugged cowboy had indeed endeared himself to this West Texas community. Saul, on the other hand, wore his silk ties and crisp, French-cuffed shirts like a man dressed for white-collar warfare. His lack of charm wouldn’t attract enough folks to surround his coffin for a decent graveside service.
Saul mounted the steps to the parsonage like he was late to a Pentagon briefing. His shiny shoes brought him to an abrupt, eye-to-eye
halt directly in front of her and Roxie. “I have your papers, Mrs. Harper.”
“Please, call me Leona,” she insisted for the hundredth time.
“Leona.” From his clipped tone, it sounded as if asking him to act as her legal representative in this small transaction had put him out.
She wished he would remove his sunglasses so she could get a better read on the truth. “Do I need to sign them now?”
Saul’s head snapped toward Roxie. His brows rose above his glasses in what could be interpreted as his unwillingness to discuss Leona’s business in front of anyone.
Roxie got the message. She lifted her chin. “I’ll go tidy up the knickknack table.” She sashayed just far enough away to make it appear she’d complied, but not so far that she couldn’t shuffle picture frames and keep an ear tuned to their conversation.
Saul’s jaw twitched in dissatisfaction, but when he saw that Leona wasn’t going to offer to take their conversation inside, he set his briefcase on the large bedside stand Leona knew would not fit in her new home.
He cleared his throat. “Your son asked if he could look over the buyer’s contract before you signed.” He popped the brass latches on the case and removed a neat file. “Once David is satisfied everything is in order, come by and you can execute the closing papers in front of my notary.”
The moment the file hit her hand, Leona forgot to breathe.
Pull yourself together, girl. It’s just a house.
She squeezed the folder tight. “Juanita usually drops by whenever we need something notarized.”
“That was before I bought the firm.”
“Juanita loved to make house calls.” Leona’s attempt to nudge a smile from the lawyer fell flat. “I’ll have David look this over. Thank you, Saul.”
The man just stood there, legs apart, hands behind his back, as if awaiting permission to say more. While his stiff military stance was unnerving, it was her reflection she’d just noticed in his dark glasses that horrified her.
She looked awful. Even worse than she did the night Saul had physically carried her to bed because she was so high on Christmas pot brownies that she couldn’t walk. As the humiliating memory overtook her, Leona let her eyes slide down the front of her t-shirt. Paint splatters, in various shades of parsonage beige, covered a faded Red River ski logo. Her hair was pulled back in a clip, and she hadn’t bothered to putty over the dark circles under her eyes.