by Robyn Neeley
Chapter 12
Epilogue
A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance
Acknowledgments
The author may develop the idea, but it takes a lot of people to make a book. Thank you Jennifer Lawler and the excellent team at Crimson Romance. It’s a privilege to be included in the terrific group of Crimson Romance authors.
Thank you Legos, for keeping my children occupied while I did edits.
I’m grateful to the dancers I’ve met who shared their dreams and realities with me. Our conversations shaped Penelope’s motivations.
Last, but not least, thank you Mom, for driving me to and from countless dance classes until I was old enough to drive myself, and Dad for the homemade place to practice my tap dancing, no matter how much it hurt your ears.
Chapter 1
August
Change, change now. Cursing the red light, Carson Langley drummed his hands on the steering wheel. As much as he disliked taking work home, he hated being late even more, especially when he was seeing Eloise. Today, he carried home a stack of papers and hoped he would make it for at least the last half of her show. Otherwise, she would be mad — and rightfully so.
He parked a block away and ran up the stairs two at a time, hoping he didn’t sweat so much that he smelled bad in the sweltering summer sun. He rolled up his long sleeves. Several ladies scowled as he entered the warm room with rows of folding chairs. At last, one friendly face greeted him. His neighbor, Jen, waved him to an empty seat beside her in the first row.
“Thanks, Jen.”
“No problem. I was beginning to worry about you. They just finished the warm-up. Eloise has been looking for you.” Of course she had. He made a promise.
“I’d say she’s found me.” He grinned. Before him stood Eloise, a vision in pink and purple. She wore a blush leotard, ballerina pink tights, a pale lavender skirt and glittery fairy wings in mottled rose and violet. Most importantly, she wore a huge ear-to-ear gap-toothed smile that grew impossibly wide when their eyes met.
“Daddy!” Eloise looked ready to break rank and run to him in her clumsy but enthusiastic gait. He breathed a sigh of relief. He made it.
A sudden burst of music stopped her in her place. A giggle rang forth, so light it reminded him of a wind chime, so beautiful that he eagerly awaited the next gust of wind. The giggler stood, pressing her fingertips to her mouth and shrugging her shoulders. She was taller than the other fairies. He guessed she stood closer to 5’7" than 3’6". The woman wore shimmery blue-green wings that reminded him of the water off the small island where he honeymooned years ago. She had a blond pixie cut and large blue eyes that gave her the look of an overgrown Tinkerbell. When she moved, light reflected off her body like tiny fireworks. This must Eloise’s infamous Miss Penny.
She pressed a button on the stereo. Classical music filled the air. He’d heard it before, perhaps on a commercial or maybe in an elevator. A sharp clap interrupted his thoughts and drew the attention of all the whispering wiggly five- and six-year-old girls.
“Fairies of Woodland Falls, let’s show your mommies and daddies all the different ways fairies move through the forest.” She elongated the word “all,” practically singing it.
The little fairy princesses walked across the makeshift stage of their usual dance studio. The giggly fairy queen, as Carson thought of her, entreated her fairy trainees to perform. The girls demonstrated a range of moves. They tiptoed past a sleeping bear and hid behind a tree. In this case, half the class pretended to be trees and the fairies skipped sideways to move from tree to tree before the two groups switched. When Eloise peeked over the shoulder of a shorter girl and waved at him, he stifled a laugh, but it soon erupted from him and the other adults as the girls walked like fairies pretending to be elephants. The fairy queen unabashedly stomped around, tickling the girls with her pink feather duster trunk and inspiring giggles all around.
He thought the fairy class sounded dopey when the dance school added it partway through the summer. Since then, he’d almost grown tired of hearing Eloise talk about the class, especially since he lacked the vocabulary to understand her. He wouldn’t know the difference between a chassé and a plié if they bit him in the ass. Only Eloise’s enthusiasm made the conversations bearable. But watching her perform today made him glad Jen had talked him in to it by offering to drive his daughter along with her own. The Millers were great neighbors. Thanks to Jen, Eloise glowed.
The mini-show ended with each girl getting a chance to “fly.” The fairy queen lifted each girl in turn to show off her flying pose. One girl wanted to twirl around with her arms and legs wrapped tightly around the fairy queen’s torso. Another girl looked like she did a big jumping jack. Some girls stretched out their arms, aping a superhero in flight.
His daughter waited by the side. She looked nervous and stubborn. He hoped she would try this and not suddenly veer into a tantrum. Some parents had begun whispering and gathering their belongings in anticipation of the end. The distraction might be enough to set off her temper, which always seemed to simmer under the surface, even when she appeared to be in a good mood.
He worried needlessly this time. Her starting position halfway across the room drew people’s attention. His heart skipped a beat. His normally reticent little girl took a running leap into the fairy queen’s arms and ended with her arms and legs wide open above the fairy queen’s head to the sound of gasping parents. The fairy queen held her there briefly before gently returning her back to the earth as they spun around. The crowd applauded enthusiastically. Eloise wore the biggest grin he’d seen on her face in three years. Finally.
Mothers in the crowd rushed to escort their little girls to the communal changing room. Carson stood apart from the crowd, uncomfortable as one of the few men there. He wanted to remove Eloise’s wings at least, but she refused. She talked a mile a minute.
“Daddy, did you see me twirl? I got glitter in my hair and I get to bring my wand home and … ”
Carson saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye an instant before her melodious voice reached his ears.
“Doctor Langley! It’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Eloise talks about you all the time. My name is Penelope Glazier. I’ve been Eloise’s instructor for the fairy class.”
The woman had glitter on her darkened eyelashes. The effect was a bit startling up close and seemed more appropriate to a nightclub — but when the class performed, her eyes had sparkled, sucking him in. Her rose petal pink lips stretched into a smile as she extended a hand. Her slender hand, still warm from exertion, fit pleasantly inside his. Up close, he became even more aware that her skin tight leotard left little to the imagination. He glanced away from her gaze long enough to notice a dewy sheen on her cleavage.
“Thank you. Eloise enjoyed the class.” He wondered how a handshake could seem both too short and yet long enough for his surroundings to slip away. He explained it away as a mere biological response to the touch of a living, breathing, sweaty woman. It happened sometimes. Now and then he noticed an attractive woman at the gym or poolside. But Eloise came first.
“Miss Penny, Miss Penny, I have a present for you!” A red haired moppet dashed up to the teacher holding a small wrapped box. She then threw her little arms around the tall fairy before dropping the box on the floor and picking it back up again. “It’s a fairy necklace!”
Ms. Glazier indicated he should wait, raising a blue opalescent fingernail. She knelt to the little girl’s level and opened the box. “It’s beautiful.”
He recognized the Abby Cadabby necklace designed for children. He bought a similar one for Eloise last year at the peak of her Sesame Street obsession.
“Did you pick this out yourself, Alissa?”
Alissa nodded enthusiastically.
“Thank you.” She hugged the girl as her mother approached, half apologizing for the present
.
“Ms. Price, I’m touched by your daughter’s kindness. She is a delight to have in class. I look forward to seeing you next term.”
He followed her gaze and saw several more children headed their way. Shifting uncomfortably, he wondered how much longer he would have to wait, especially since he saw the divorcee whose clinginess at their last meeting inspired fear. The teacher hadn’t singled out any other parent. Was this because he was a single dad? A quick glance at her hand revealed the absence of jewelry on her ring finger. Women who hit on him in front of Eloise really pissed him off. He hoped she wasn’t that sort. She seemed more intriguing than that. Or maybe he’d been suckered in by her eyes.
With an apologetic glance she said, “It’s a little crazy right now. I had no idea what to expect. Perhaps I could telephone you at home?”
Still skeptical of her motives, he hesitated, challenging her to fill the silence with an explanation.
“I wanted to speak with you about Eloise and her progress.”
Even through the distracting glitter, her blue eyes flashed sincerity. Generally, he didn’t like talking to strangers on the phone outside of work, although he hoped to hear her laugh again. Then again, she presented this as a professional call, not unlike dozens of other conversations with teachers over the past few years. He pulled out a business card and scribbled a number on the back. “Sometime between eight-thirty and ten would be best.” He noticed the divorcee trying to catch a glimpse of the card. “It’s unlisted.”
Palming the card, Ms. Glazier peeked at the woman in question, as if understanding his hesitancy. “I’ll be discrete.”
She quickly twirled and kneeled at the same time to look eye to eye with Eloise. His little girl beamed with delight. “Bye, my lovely assistant fairy. Take good care of your wings.”
Eloise giggled and threw her arms around her teacher with such enthusiasm that the two wobbled a bit before regaining their balance. “I will. And until I turn into a fairy for real, I’ll make sure to feed the other ones so they’ll like me.”
Carson wondered if this explained why he found potato chips underneath the hedges when he mowed the lawn last weekend.
Hugging Eloise again, the dance instructor rubbed a hand gently on her shoulder. “Fairy thee well!”
His daughter laughed as Carson pulled her from the crowd, still enthusiastically talking about the class.
• • •
Wrapping herself in a fluffy blue bathrobe, Penelope felt renewed after scrubbing the glitter from her hair and face. She loved the feeling of taking off her make-up and coming clean after a long day or evening at work. The speed at which soap and water dissolved what could take hours to apply proved magic existed every day. Her skin was a blank palette, full of potential and ready for anything. Tonight, her skin screamed for a non-greasy lotion.
She stretched, walked to the kitchenette and opened the refrigerator. A quick inspection revealed she desperately needed to go to the farmer’s market and the grocery store. She sighed and debated whether she could throw something together quickly or if she would be forced to get dressed and go across the yard to her parents’ suburban Chicago kitchen. She opened the solitary kitchen cabinet and discovered she was out of rice, tuna and pasta. Her parents had been right. Years of living in hotels and eating at restaurants had diminished her culinary skills, especially advance meal planning. At least her ability to make tuna casserole and a wicked lemon garlic vinaigrette remained intact. Sighing, she returned to the other side of the apartment and quickly pulled on a tank top, athletic shorts, and a pair of sneakers. She suspected she’d postponed grocery shopping just so she’d have a good excuse to invite herself over for dinner.
Her mom greeted her warmly, offering her the opportunity to have dinner with them and gently admonishing her inability to keep enough food in her carriage house apartment. Over dinner, Penelope asked her parents if they knew anything about the Langleys. Her meeting today had peaked her curiosity. Her father had not met them personally in his work as a mechanic, but he knew Doctor Carson Langley had a good reputation. Eloise was far too young to be in one of Mom’s middle school classrooms, so the two of them added little other than what she already knew from the dance studio. Normally she disliked talking about people behind their backs, but she worried she would inadvertently say the wrong thing when she spoke with the handsome doctor about his precocious little girl later tonight.
When she returned to her apartment, the clock read 8:10. Drumming her fingers on the kitchen countertop, she considered her options. First she opened a book, stared at a page, and then quickly put it back. The crossword puzzle failed to distract her. Then she turned on some show tunes and began belting out songs, complete with choreography. Before she knew it, the clock read 9:30. She dialed the number scribbled on the back of the card.
A deep masculine voice answered. “Hello.”
When she’d spoken with him earlier, she hadn’t noticed how sexy his voice sounded. It threw her for a loop, remembering his grey eyes and the masculine contours of his face. His voice came in a very attractive package. She paused as she caught her breath, reconsidering the notes in front of her. This was a professional matter.
“Good evening Dr. Langley, this is Penelope Glazier from The Dance School.”
“I remember. And please, call me Carson.”
The unexpected intimacy rattled her. With the other parents, she used their last names. Tapping her notes, she cleared her throat and returned to the task at hand.
“I wanted to talk with you about Eloise.”
“That’s what you said earlier.” A sexy voice, yes, but impatient as well.
“Looking at fall registration I noticed Eloise is not enrolled in my class.”
“She’s signed up for ballet on Saturdays. I paid the deposit last month.”
“Yes, I saw her name on Hailey’s roster.”
“I thought the director, Rosanne, taught that class. Who is Hailey?”
“The schedule changed a bit. I haven’t seen her teach, but Hailey is one of the top high school students at the school and intends to audition for several colleges. She’s assisted before, but this will be her first time in charge of a class of fourteen five and six-year-olds.” Penelope disliked the decision, but since she worked as a temporary hired hand, it wasn’t her place to complain. She hoped Carson would pick up on her concerns over Hailey’s inexperience. She worried about the teen’s ability to handle Eloise.
“Dr. Langley — ”
“Carson.”
Smiling at the correction and kind tone in his voice, she continued. “I primarily called about my creative movement class, which meets Tuesdays at six o’clock. It’s geared toward early elementary school students — ”
“I work late on Tuesdays. I couldn’t impose on her grandmother or a neighbor to drive her to class, when they already do so much for her.”
“I understand that but — ”
“Look, I don’t even know what ‘creative movement’ is. At least I’ve heard of ballet — even if I don’t get it.”
Smiling, Penelope admired Carson’s willingness to confess his ignorance. Her hand crept forward as if reaching for his hand to cover it reassuringly. Instead of the warm, strong hand she had touched earlier, the cold countertop brought back her focus.
“As near as I can tell, it’s a new class to the Western Suburbs. We’ll do a ballet-based warm-up each week. For the bulk of the class, we will engage in activities that emphasize movement and imagination. You saw an example of this today when the girls interpreted how fairies would move about in different situations. They ranged from the straightforward to the silly. We will have a different theme each week such as the ocean, art, and my favorite, amazing machines. I have a mechanical bank that I’ll show the children, and then I’ll have them work in groups of two or three to create their ow
n version. Naturally, we’ll finish the session with a tribute to snow and the holidays. Each week will give the children the opportunity to demonstrate something they’ve created to the class as well as the chance to participate in small group and large group activities. We’ll also incorporate objects such as hula-hoops, scarves and balls to enhance skills and creativity.”
“This sounds a bit … out there. Are you having trouble filling the class?”
She wondered how often his skepticism clashed with his daughter’s imagination. “Actually, I filled all ten spaces during initial enrollment, but I’m willing to open an extra space for Eloise. I think she’ll benefit from it.”
“What qualifies you to think that?”
She exhaled in a puff. He had every right to question her credibility. She was no child psychiatrist. She hadn’t even finished her first year of college before embarking on her professional dancing career. She’d only known the girl a month, and despite her better judgment, part of her reasoning was based on hearsay. Nothing in her notes prepared her for this line of questioning. Time to speak from the heart.
“I’m not much for gossip, but before the class began multiple sources warned me that Eloise had, let’s say, some anti-social tendencies.”
Chewing her lip, she waited for an abrupt click to end the call. Silence ticked: one, two, three, four.
Finally, Carson answered. “I appreciate your discretion, Penelope, but let’s be frank. Eloise is banned from soccer because she spit on the other players whenever they came close. Two preschools expelled her, and I’m lucky the dance school didn’t kick her out last spring after she bit that girl. She’s a handful.”
No one had mentioned the biting incident to her, but then again, she’d only taught there one month. She only knew of the dent in the wall where Eloise threw a shoe. Suppressing her shock as best she could, she remembered to smile before continuing. Her mom always told her people could hear the smile in your voice. Knowing that he’d dealt with a number of adversarial calls about Eloise in the past probably explained why he looked uncomfortable after class. She needed to reassure him she only considered the present.