by JoAnn Durgin
“If it’s a question in your mind, I care about Isabella, Toby. First and foremost, she’s my friend. I respect her, and I won’t ever lie to her.”
Toby moved forward and planted one hand on Sidney’s shoulder. “Just make sure you don’t lie to yourself either, young man. Be willing to listen and open your mind to the possibilities that God plants right in front of you.”
By the time he could formulate a response, Toby was already gone.
Sidney moved his gaze across the expanse of Evergreen Park. Isabella danced with Tommy, and he twirled her beneath his arm. Happy and carefree, she was laughing at something he said. Tonight her hair was curled on the ends, cascading down her back. Beautiful. Caroline was right. He’d stolen plenty of glances at Isabella during dinner. She was irresistible with those big brown eyes, long, dark lashes, soft-looking lips, a hint of color in her cheeks. Sidney’s gaze traveled the length of her. As cute as she looked in her jeans, T-shirts, and shorts, this vision was the enchanting image of Isabella Caccavale he’d remember when he returned to Boston.
You’ll miss her when you leave.
Soft sounds interrupted his musing. What was that? Like the mewling of a cat, or the soft whimper of a child. Had Humphrey come to the Twilight Dance? Surveying his immediate surroundings, Sidney searched for the source. Listening. Waiting. There it was again.
And then he saw her. Beneath a large pine tree, half-hidden, was the shadowed outline of a woman. Sidney’s first thought was not to intrude. A closer look confirmed she was alone.
His eyes widened, and he stepped closer. “Millicent, is that you?”
“Go away, Sidney. Mind your own business.” He heard muffled sniffles.
“You can yell at me all you want, but I’m afraid I can’t walk away. Would you like me to take you home?”
“No.” When she twisted her hands together, a tissue dropped to the ground. Before Sidney could retrieve it, Millicent snatched it up and stuffed it in the pocket of her dress. The outfit flattered her, and she wore her hair down for a change. The eyeglasses were missing.
“You look very nice.”
“Sweet talker.”
“Okay then, I take it back. Contrary to what you might have heard, I don’t throw compliments around freely.”
“You’re the funny one, aren’t you?”
“Not usually,” he admitted. “A courtroom doesn’t lend itself to a lot of humor. I inject it here and there when I can, but it’s not appropriate in most cases. Pun intended, I suppose.”
Feeling awkward, Sidney stuffed his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He could walk away but something stopped him. This woman was hurting, and he couldn’t leave her crying beneath a towering pine tree.
“He doesn’t know I exist.”
“May I ask who—?”
“Hank Jergens.”
Ah, yes, the country crooner. “I caught the floor show at Mahoney’s when he tried out a Conway Twitty song yesterday afternoon. Something about a job, an ode to fatherhood. Since it’s close to Father’s Day, I guess they play that song on the radio a lot.”
“That’d be ‘That’s My Job.’ It’s not as controversial as some of Conway’s other songs.”
Sidney snapped his fingers. “That’s the one, and I wouldn’t know about controversial.”
“Why won’t he dance with me?”
“Conway? I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”
“Hank,” she snapped. “Pay attention, Sidney.”
“Right. Just checking. You obviously know your country music, Millicent. Look, I don’t really know Hank, but I’ve met him, and he seems like an upstanding kind of guy. I played a few games of checkers with him yesterday since Marty couldn’t be there. I know Hank lost a leg on the job. Is it possible he doesn’t dance?”
“He’s not dead, he’s got a prosthesis. He gets around. No reason he can’t, well, shake a leg.” When he heard more sounds, Sidney thought Millicent was crying again, but this time she was laughing. So much so that her shoulders were shaking. What a strange little bird she was. On the other hand, he found this scenario fascinating.
“Is Hank here tonight? Somewhere?”
She angled her head in the direction of a few tables set up to the back of the gazebo. “He’s over there doing what he does best.”
“Singing?”
She sighed. “You sure you went to Harvard? Do you hear a man singing, Sidney?”
“Then I’m guessing he has a checkerboard game going on tonight?”
“Something like that. The fool thinks no woman will want him, so he spends all the livelong day playing checkers. I got this new dress, and I’ve been using the goat’s milk soap like Isabella told me, and he hasn’t said two words to me tonight.”
“For what it’s worth, Millicent, I have a suggestion. You might want to come out from under the tree. A man can’t ask a woman to dance if she’s not within his range of vision.”
Millicent turned her head in Hank’s direction and didn’t speak for a long moment. “Dance with me,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“Your hearing’s fine, isn’t it? I asked you to dance with me.”
“Sounded more like you demanded, but why quibble?” She wanted to make Hank jealous? In its own way, that was very sweet. Why not? Sidney hoped it might work. “Miss Millicent, will you do me the honor of dancing with me?” He paused. “What’s your last name?”
“Don’t ask,” she grumbled.
“Fair enough.” He crooked his elbow. “Shall we go dance close to the gazebo?”
Stepping out from under the shadow of the tree, Millicent hooked her arm through his. “You can dance, right?”
“No worries. My mom made sure I learned to dance. I’ll try not to embarrass you with my lack of skill.” Sidney patted her hand resting on his arm. “Let me lead, okay?”
Sidney was relieved to see a few couples dancing near the gazebo. They wouldn’t be as obvious this way, and it should be interesting. “Hank’s a handyman, right?”
“Yes.” They began to dance together. Of course, this one had to be a ballad. No problem.
“Here’s a thought. Have you considered hiring Hank to repair shelves at the library?”
Millicent was quiet for so long Sidney figured she hadn’t heard. “Or, you could invite him to come to your house and…fix something.”
“The only thing that needs fixing is his attitude.” After she snuggled a bit too close, Sidney took tiny steps back to put a respectable distance between them.
“You can’t very well invite him over to fix an attitude. How about an appliance? Anything along those lines? A broken toaster or a malfunctioning oven?”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” she said under her breath.
How could he convey to Millicent that a gentle word might go a long way toward capturing Hank’s attention? “I’m trying to give you suggestions to spend some time with Hank so he can fall in love with you. Is that wrong? I thought that’s what you wanted.”
She snorted and then clamped a hand over her mouth. “Do you think he heard that?” The words came out muffled, and Millicent looked up at him with wide eyes.
In response, he threw his head back and laughed. “Millicent”—he elevated his voice slightly—“you just reminded me of that Conway Twitty song I like so much.”
“What are you—?” When Sidney gave her a look, a slow smile crossed her face. “It’s working. Hank’s looking over here.” Millicent sounded excited. Her fingers gripped his arm tighter. “Say something else like that.”
“What? Talk Twitty to you?”
“Shhhh.” She laughed.
“Which country music singer that he impersonates or whatever is your favorite?”
“George Strait.”
“Give me the name of a Strait song, Millicent.” Wow, that sounded strange enough.
“‘Give It All We Got Tonight.’”
“I’m trying here,” Sidney said. “Give me some credit.�
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“It’s the name of one of George Strait’s songs,” she hissed.
“You’ve gotta love country music.” Sidney winked, and then he started to warble although he couldn’t sing his way out of a paper bag. Closing one eye, he kept going, and he wouldn’t stop unless Millicent tried to shush him. She hadn’t stomped on his foot yet. Soon enough, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He sure hoped it was Hank.
“That’s not how it’s done, city slicker.”
Still dancing, Sidney opened both eyes and gave Hank a mock glare. “Not how what’s done, Hank? I’m trying my best to dance with lovely Millicent here.”
“You shouldn’t be singing if you can’t do justice to the song.”
“Think you can do better?”
“Yes.” Hank looked at Millicent. “How about it? You want to dance, Millie?”
Millie? Cute. “You know, Millicent was just telling me—”
“You can move on now, Mr. Prescott,” Hank said. “I’ve got it covered.”
In the moonlight, Sidney could see Millicent’s blush. “I’ll do that. You two kids have fun.” With a nod, Sidney backed away. He doubted either one of them even noticed. He spied Isabella a few hundred yards away. Softly clapping, she smiled and mouthed Bravo!
Closing the distance between them, Sidney didn’t hesitate as he pulled her into his arms. “Thank you. Thank you very much,” he said in his best imitation of Elvis. “Shall we dance, Miss Cabaletta?”
“Cabaletta? What’s that mean?” she said as he spun her in a half-turn.
“A simple aria with a repetitive rhythm.”
Spinning beneath his arm, Isabella laughed. “You made that up. And I’m not sure it’s safe to dance with you.”
“I did not make it up. It was used in 19th-century Italian operas.” Sidney tugged her close. “And we’re friends. Is there a law in Evergreen that friends can’t dance with one another?”
Isabella nodded to where Hank and Millicent danced together. “You did a very good thing over there tonight.” She patted his chest, sending warmth searing through him. “Beneath all the bravado, you’re a kindhearted man, Mr. Prescott.”
“I couldn’t leave her standing beneath that tree pining away, could I?”
Isabella’s laughter filled his soul.
Chapter 22
Isabella observed with more than a little fascination as Sidney bounced Ellie on his knee and sang a song under his breath.
“You’re terrific with her, Uncle Sidney.” She hoped Sidney could hear the admiration in her tone. “You know, you were very cute in your embarrassment over the breastfeeding incident when you first arrived in town.”
“Was not.” His knee pumped up and down with a bit too much vigor.
“Slow down there, sparky, or she’ll start rattling.”
“Oh, man. Sorry.” Sidney looked panicked and slowed to a crawl. “This better?”
“You’re fine. Don’t worry.”
“You tried to fluster me,” he teased. “Why do you do it, Isabella?”
“Because I like to see you blush. There’s something so endearing about it.”
“And you’re irresistible when you ogle me.”
“What?” She sputtered. “I do not ogle, thank you very much.” Of course, she did. Isabella glanced in the opposite direction, pretending to watch the dancers. When he said nothing, she dared to look at him again.
“Gotcha. That was too easy.” He laughed. “I like to see you blush. It’s downright endearing.”
“Touché. What’s that song you were singing just now?” Pulling the burp cloth from the diaper bag on the bench beside her, Isabella wiped the drool beneath baby Paul’s mouth.
“I have no idea. Something I made up. Ellie doesn’t seem to be particular.” He kissed the top of the baby’s blonde head. “Must be my version of a Twitty ditty. Ever since you told me about that Conway Twitty song at the store, I can’t seem to get away from the Twitty references. They apparently feed into my warped sense of humor.”
Nearby, Bella burst into tears. Moving Ellie to his shoulder, Sidney half-turned on the bench. “What’s wrong, Bella? Come over here and join us.”
The little girl scampered over to them. After plopping on the bench, she settled between them.
“Why the tears?” Sidney said.
Using the opposite end of the burp cloth, Isabella carefully dabbed beneath the little girl’s eyes.
Bella sniffled. “Katie had to leave.”
“I’m sorry, kiddo. It is getting kind of late, and I’m sure you’ll see her again soon.” Sidney hiked his sleeve and checked his watch. Was that a Rolex? Wow. Why would Isabella expect him to wear a Timex? Talk about being born with a silver spoon. He’d probably had a Rolex from the time he was a teenager. Caroline had one, too, but neither one of them flashed it around. To them, it served a function. So what if it cost a few thousand dollars? Isabella couldn’t begin to imagine that kind of reasoning.
“I saw you dance with your Mommy and Daddy,” Sidney said. “That must have been fun.”
“Uh huh.” Bella pulled on the skirt of her pretty blue dress. “Mommy made my dress. Isn’t it bee-u-tee-ful, Uncle Sidney?”
“It is indeed. I should call you Princess Bella.”
She giggled. Isabella listened quietly as Sidney engaged Bella in a conversation of everything about her favorite doll to what she’d learned in Sunday school the week before.
“Are you coming to church tomorrow?” Bella wrapped her hands around Sidney’s arm and leaned her head against him. “Please?”
“Say pretty please, and then I’ll think about it.”
“Pretty please?” Bella looked up at him with pleading eyes, and Isabella was all but forgotten.
“Okay. I’ll be there,” he said. “I’ll have to make sure I set my alarm clock.”
Bella slid off the bench. “Bye, Sidney. Bye, Isabella.”
“You have completely charmed that little girl.” Isabella watched Bella run to her parents. “I’ll admit to a wee bit of jealousy that she calls you Uncle Sidney. You’ve obviously wiggled your way into her affections in short order.”
“It’s as much a mystery to me as it is to you. But I can’t pretend it hasn’t made me think about kids since I’ve been here in Evergreen. I don’t have the opportunity to be around many children, at least not long enough to spend quality time with them.”
“You’ve never dated a woman with a child?”
“No. At my advanced age, I guess you’d think I might have.”
“Kids are so honest,” she said. “They speak their mind without worrying if they’ve hurt someone’s feelings. Sometimes I think they can see past the outside of a person and go straight to what’s in their heart.”
He glanced down at her. “That’s a profound statement. I think you’re right.”
“Would you like children of your own someday, Sidney?”
He was quiet for so long she thought he might say no. “Yes,” he said finally. “I never thought much about it until the last six months. I guess faced with the mortality of a parent, you realize that life doesn’t go on forever like you think it will when you’re young.”
“I’ll admit I’m a pushover for a strong man who likes kids.” Isabella nudged Sidney with her shoulder. “They gentle you.” Paul, Jr. had fallen asleep on her other shoulder, and Isabella was content to leave him there. His soft downy hair smelled so fresh. Was there anything sweeter?
Ellie had fallen asleep, and Sidney carefully lowered her into the baby carriage. “I ordered this carriage for Ellie,” he said.
“I should have known. It looks top of the line. Like the Lamborghini of baby carriages.”
He grinned. “That’s not why I told you, but you can’t fault me too much. I usually let someone else pick out the gift. In this case, I wanted the best. Ellie’s my niece, after all. If I didn’t have money, I’d figure out something. I’d probably make furniture. Make her a crib.”
That surprised her.
“Have you ever made anything?”
“No, but I went home one weekend with a roommate from school. He took me over to his grandfather’s house in West Medford, a suburb of Boston, on Saturday afternoon. He had a furniture shop set up in the garage behind the house. It took me a while to get used to the fumes. Seriously, I thought I was going to get high.”
Isabella wasn’t sure whether to laugh or frown, so she bit her lower lip.
“I watched this man—Melvin was his name—work with his hands, and I admired the concentration, the skill, the effort that went into it. To think that he created something of lasting quality, an heirloom, that someone would have in their home for years, was so awesome. I know it’s not the same thing, but I enjoyed helping to put together the dance floor earlier today.”
Sidney moved his arm around the back of the bench. His hand rested behind her, and his fingers lightly caressed the top of her shoulder. Isabella wondered if he even realized what he was doing.
“You’ll have to talk to Marty about making furniture. Remember, that’s what he does for a living.”
“Thanks for the reminder. I’ll definitely ask him,” Sidney said. “You look like a natural with kids, too. Witness the sleeping child on your shoulder. Do you see kids in your future?”
“I’ve always wanted to be a mother. I don’t care if it’s one child or five, but I want to be the mom who volunteers for things, drives the carpool, organizes the bake sales. All those things.”
“Then I’m sure you’ll be a big hit with all the other moms.” Sidney’s smile sobered and his brow creased. “I like talking with you, Isabella. I don’t get the chance to do this often.”
“What, talk? It’s like anything else, Sidney. You have to make time and take advantage of the opportunities.”
He shot her a grin. “This is the kind of honesty I need in my life.”
“Just don’t expect everything in your life to run smoothly once you go back to Boston,” she said quietly. “Nothing there will have changed. It’ll be the same people, the same cases with some new ones thrown into the mix, but the dynamics will be the same.”