As she opened a card and tiny heart confetti poured out of it, the chime above the front door dinged. Her heart skipped a beat, caught between hoping it wasn’t Wes who had come to see her and hoping it was. Franchesca came through her office door and dropped herself into a chair. Noelle masked her disappointment and told herself to be relieved instead.
“Hey, friend. You get any rest yesterday?”
“Yeah. Well, sort of.”
Noelle brushed heart confetti off her desk and into the wastebasket beside it. “Sort of?”
“I caught up on errands and stuff I hadn’t done being so busy with getting ready for the show.”
“Ah, I did the same myself.”
“No downtime?”
“Some.”
“Well, I hope you’re rested enough to hear what I have to tell you.”
Noelle sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. Was Wes okay? Had he said something to Franchesca? She mentally shook her head and berated herself for always thinking about Wes. The world didn’t revolve around the man. Certainly not her world. But the instinct to hope he was all right, that nothing bad had happened, was her knee-jerk reaction now. Yet another thing to work on since he would be leaving soon.
“What is it?”
“Can I make tea first? We’re both gonna need it.”
In her mind, Noelle cursed her friend’s desire to add drama to every situation as she said, “Yes. Help yourself.”
Franchesca left the room and Noelle listened to cupboards opening and closing, the faucet running water, and the clank of ceramic against the counter as Franchesca moved around the tiny break room next to Noelle’s office.
After what felt like hours, her friend came back in with two steaming mugs and set one down for Noelle before claiming her seat once more across the desk and taking a sip. With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair.
“You’re killing me, you know that right?”
“Normally I would admit to stretching things out for dramatic effect, but this time, I’m merely trying to form the words to say what I need to.”
Good Lord, now Noelle was beyond worried. She hoped for a lot of reasons whatever Franchesca had to say, it wasn’t about Wes. Although, the other possibilities that raced through Noelle’s mind weren’t any better. She cared about a lot of people in Marietta. Bad news about anyone wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
“As I said, I was running errands yesterday and I cut up 2nd to Church Avenue. I wanted to stop by the drama studio with some stuff I’d bought. I overheard voices in one of the alleys. I thought that was weird. Marietta is a safe place. People don’t tend to lurk in alleys, ya know?”
“Okay.” Noelle had zero idea where her friend was going with this, but she tamped down her desire to rush her and continued to listen.
“I stopped where I wouldn’t be seen but could hear what they were saying.”
“You eavesdropped?”
Franchesca made a face at Noelle over her mug. “Yes, I eavesdropped. Don’t judge. You can’t honestly say you’ve never done that in your lifetime.”
Fair enough. Noelle waved a hand at her to proceed.
“Anyway, I was able to peek around the corner and had to fight to stay quiet when I saw it was Ronald Spellman! He was with some guy and they were looking up at the side of one of the buildings, saying how they would change things.” Franchesca had set her mug down and had a hand to her chest as if to hold herself together.
“Wes said when he met with Spellman he admitted to changing some of the facades of the building to match the storyline and setting of his film.” Although her argument was valid, even Noelle felt it fell flat. Something wasn’t right.
“True.” Franchesca pointed at her with the hand not plastered to her chest. “But he continued talking and said he wants to level the buildings and build from the ground up.”
Noelle sat forward in her chair. “What?”
“Yeah. He’s going to buy our building and then level it.”
Noelle sat back again as if Franchesca had pushed her.
“I know, right? I stood there in the street with my mouth hanging open just like yours is now.”
Noelle clasped her lips together and shook her head. “But...”
“I know what Wes said, but Spellman has different plans.”
How could he? Did Wes know this and not tell her? No. He was a businessman, but he wasn’t heartless. Or was he? She’d only known him a short time.
“I see your wheels spinning, girlfriend. And I don’t think for a second your boy had anything to do with this or had any knowledge of it. The way Spellman was all secretive and stealthy in that alleyway, I have a feeling he wants this kept under wraps until the deal goes through.”
Franchesca might be right, but with Wes keeping it from her that he had anything to do with the deal in the first place, and then meeting with Spellman without telling her, she questioned everything. Not to mention the knot in her gut now forming over losing her studio.
“Like I said, we needed some seriously strong tea to help swallow this nugget of news.” Franchesca lifted her mug again to her lips and sipped.
Neither woman said anything for what felt like hours. The tick-tock of the clock on the wall along with Franchesca’s sipping of her tea were the only sounds. Like pieces of a puzzle, all the information in Noelle’s head moved around but couldn’t find a place to land, not anywhere that made sense anyway.
How could Wes not know about this? She thought back to their conversations and, although he’d kept his knowledge of the deal from her, she didn’t get a vibe that he’d ever flat-out lied to her. Not point blank. He did seem to believe the deal was a solid one. But Marietta meant nothing to him. Maybe he’d heard of Spellman’s plans and blew it off, knowing he’d be gone by the time things went down anyway.
“Hey. Sweetie. Don’t beat yourself up on this one. We’ll figure things out.”
She meant well, but Franchesca’s words did little to soothe the ache that now spread through Noelle’s whole body. She’d just settled into Marietta. Sure, she and Franchesca could rent from another building, but their studios were all set up just right and the theater next door made for the perfect corner. They’d packed the house at their performance, people saying how wonderful it was to have the arts in Marietta. Some even talked of how to add other cultural events throughout the year. As great as the rodeo was for the town’s history, there was room for more ways to embrace and celebrate the town and its heritage.
The door chimed. A mom of one of her students called out.
“I’ll be right there!” Noelle answered. She stood and moved around the desk, stopping next to Franchesca. “Thanks for coming by to tell me. Let’s talk more later, okay?”
“Do you think we should tell someone?”
“Not yet. I’m not sure it would do any good anyway. Spellman is big-time. I doubt anyone could or would cross him. Even if they did, he could deny it and do what he wants anyway.”
“True.”
“Hey. We’ll figure this out together.”
Franchesca nodded and stood. “Yes. I’m gonna go next door. I’ll check in with you later.”
“Sounds good. Love you, friend.”
“Love you too.”
Franchesca left as Noelle greeted the student’s mom and tried to mentally shift gears into dance teacher mode. But with the bomb Franchesca had just dropped, it was tough. Should she tell anyone? Wes, in particular. But what could he do? Her heart sank at the thought that he might already even know of Spellman’s plans.
As she attempted to listen to what the mom was saying about new ballet shoes for her daughter, Noelle pushed back her worries. She’d have to deal with Wes St. Claire and Ronald Spellman later.
Wes sat in his office. He flipped a pen through his fingers back and forth as he leaned back in his chair and stared out the window.
Saying he didn’t have time for a face-to-face meeting, Ronald Spellman had agreed to a phone meetin
g the day before. As convenient as email, text, and phone calls could be, Wes preferred seeing the person he was talking to, especially when it came to business. Not unlike poker, a business meeting could show various gestures, tics, small tells that someone was lying or bluffing. And reading a person’s eyes was Wes’s strong suit. The eyes said everything. And with a carnival ride like Spellman, it was necessary.
Not being able to look into Spellman’s eyes as they talked yesterday rubbed Wes wrong. On paper, the deal looked fine. And sure, Spellman had said once again that nothing in the deal had changed; he was in town simply to look in person at the buildings he was buying and to make a positive appearance in Marietta. But the man was...unstable. Whether his feelings for Noelle were a factor or not, Wes didn’t have a good vibe. He hated that.
“Your mind sure is a million miles away.”
Lost in thought, he hadn’t heard his dad enter the room.
“Hi, Dad. Sorry. Please, come in.”
His dad took a seat across the desk from him. “I’ve always loved this room. You and I are alike in so many ways.”
Were they? Wes didn’t used to think so, seeing his dad as distant. Unreachable. But after things Mike had said, as well as some long-needed soul searching, he had to admit, his old man was right.
“What’s got your mind so far off?”
Wes leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows on his desk. “This deal with Spellman.”
“You think it’s a good one.”
It wasn’t a question. He and his dad had talked over the past few days and both agreed it could be a win-win for everyone involved. “I did. Now I’m not so sure.”
Daniel St. Claire sat up straighter in his chair. The years had been good to Wes’s dad. He was a handsome man. Some had compared him to Paul Newman. But the time taking care of Marian St. Claire had taken its toll and he’d aged because of it. “What’s your concern?”
Wes leaned back again, restless. “I don’t have anything solid, but I don’t like that he just showed up here without telling anyone. Why so secretive?”
His dad rubbed his chin. “I hadn’t thought of that. We met the other day. Things seemed good. He was excited about the film.” He shrugged. “When Ron called me originally, I thought this might be good for the town. Sure, he’s quacky, but quacky is this business’s middle name.”
“I don’t know, Dad. On paper, it looks good. But something doesn’t sit right.”
“Would that something have anything to do with an elegant dancer you’re in love with?”
Hearing those words from Mike was one thing. Out of his dad’s mouth, they all but stunned him.
“I don’t know...what...?”
“Don’t even try to argue with me, son. I know you better than you think I do. Where do you think you got your talent for reading people?”
Wes had to concede to that. Daniel St. Claire was uncanny at reading people.
And what good was it to anyone to fight that man? Wes did love Noelle. Why fight it?
“Yeah. I love her.” He looked out the window. “But I’m afraid I may have screwed that up for good.”
His dad stood. “Nah. I wouldn’t say that. Women can be wonderful, forgiving creatures. Sometimes it just takes the right grand gesture to help them along.” He winked and turned to leave but stopped in the doorway. “I have faith in you, son. You’ll figure it all out.”
As he watched his father leave the room, Wes couldn’t decide if it shocked him more to have his dad say he had faith in him, or that they’d just had the closest thing to a heartfelt conversation in all of Wes’s life.
Either way, his dad’s idea wasn’t a bad one. Maybe he just needed a grand gesture to win back Noelle. Only thing was, he had no clue what it could be.
Chapter Nineteen
Noelle closed the door of her studio behind the last student. It was evening and her final class of the day was over, all dancers packed up and out the door with their parents. She breathed a sigh and leaned her back against the door.
“Some days feel longer than others, don’t they?” Breanne, one of the young women who helped her teach stood behind the front counter, cleaning up.
“That’s very true,” Noelle agreed.
“Everything is all put away and sorted up here. You okay if I head out? I’ve got a date tonight. I’d love to go home and change beforehand.”
Noelle took in the glimmer in the young woman’s eyes, a tiny bit jealous of the excitement found there, the anticipation of a fun evening out. Noelle’s night would consist of getting the studio prepared for the next day, then home to soak in a hot bath, and tuck in early with her current book boyfriend. She would bet all the money she had that her own eyes didn’t glimmer over those plans.
She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of Wes more often than not the past day or two. Well, since he’d walked into her life. But she pushed those daydreams away. Wanting something she couldn’t have was a terrible waste of her time.
“Oh, by the way, this came for you earlier while you were teaching.”
Breanne reached behind the front counter and handed Noelle a small package. It was wrapped in exquisite paper, swirls of various shades of pink mixed with silver and white. Hot pink ribbon adorned it, topped off with a perfect bow.
“That’s beautiful.” She pushed away from the door and moved next to Breanne who handed Noelle the package and shrugged into her coat.
“I know. I’m dying to know what’s inside.”
“Who is it from?”
Breanne shrugged. “It was delivered by a service. I’m not sure if there’s a card or not.” She looked at her watch. “Crud! I’ve gotta go! Have a good night.” With a quick hug she was out the door and gone.
Noelle stood there staring down at the box in her hands. Based on the beauty of the wrapping she had a guess as to who had sent the gift. The pace of her heartbeat increased at the thought, but practical thought reminded her that even if he did send her something, he was leaving. They had no future.
A small card stuck to the bottom caught her attention as she untied the ribbon and unraveled it from the box.
“To the best teacher any man could ask for.”
There was no signature, but one wasn’t needed.
“Wes.” She whispered his name in the quiet of the room.
One more day. She had one more day of baking with him and then he’d be gone. She had no intention of going to the third Bake-Off competition. She had no reason to go. Wes had his family to support him and once she said goodbye after they baked together the next morning, she needed to move on. Still unsure of what to do about the Spellman situation and her studio, she decided that needed to be her focus. Not Wes St. Claire. He wasn’t her future, but her studio was, whether in that building or not.
She hated tearing the gorgeous paper so she pulled the tape gently and kept it in as good a condition as possible. The paper folded and set aside, she opened the box and pulled out a jewelry box with the most ornate design she’d ever seen. Pink and golden hues intertwined along the top and sides. She opened the top and a tiny ballet dancer popped up and spun in a circle as the music began to play.
Tears welled in her eyes. It was almost identical to one she’d had as a little girl. She’d wind it up and let it play for hours and hours, never tiring of watching the little dancer spin around. Her favorite birthstone ring, given to her by her grandmother, had sat inside it, along with a necklace from a candy machine she’d stuck a quarter into and spun the dial. She smiled at the memory of things a child deems precious.
She closed the box and took it to her office, swallowing tears as she went. It was thoughtful of Wes to give her such a beautiful gift, but she couldn’t let her heart get wrapped up in wanting to be with him. She’d accept it for what it was, a thank-you for teaching him to bake.
After the studio was tidied up and the last of the little sweatshirts and mittens that had been left behind were hung up or tucked into cubbies, Noelle turned
the lights low and put her favorite waltz on the iPod that was hooked up to the sound system. As the melody floated through the room, she made her way to the center and spun once, testing out her leg. She put all her weight on her other leg, but still had to be cautious. So far, so good. She tried an arabesque, her leg continuing to feel strong.
The music moved through her as she eased into one of her dance routines she’d performed years before. The movements were simple compared to all she could do, but to dance again at any level rejuvenated her spirit unlike anything else had since her accident.
Each note encouraged her next step, the movements second nature to her. For a brief moment in time, all the worry about her studio, all the heartache of knowing she wouldn’t be a part of Wes’s life, it all faded away.
Lost in the music, the magic that was dance to her, she put all her weight on her bad leg as she went into Pas de Valse without thinking. Pain shot through her thigh, ripping the peaceful moment from her and crashing her back to reality. The music continued as she crumpled to the floor and cried.
Wes stood quietly in the doorway and watched. He’d snuck in without Noelle noticing. She’d put on music and was dancing. The low light in the room with one brighter one in the center showcased her like the ballerina in the jewelry box he’d purchased for her that morning.
Walking the streets of Marietta, thinking of all his dad had said to him, he’d wandered into the lobby of the Graff Hotel and decided to sit for lunch. He passed a tiny gift shop, the jewelry box catching his eye as it sat on its perch in the window. The instinct that Noelle had to have it urged him into the store to purchase it, have it wrapped, and delivered to her studio that afternoon.
Even though they were scheduled to bake the next day together, he couldn’t stop whatever it was inside him that drew him to her. He didn’t just want her, he needed her. And he was a man who didn’t have a single need in his life.
He’d made his way to her studio, glad to find the door unlocked, but unsure if she was still there since the lights were low. Mesmerized by the sight of her dancing, he’d stopped short and couldn’t move. Like a statue, he stayed a mere step inside the door, drawn in by her graceful movements. Wes had seen professional ballet performances in his life. But this, this was something different.
A Recipe for Romance Page 15
