“What?”
“Close your eyes. Communication between partners is through subtle movements. I’m waiting.”
She sighed hard but closed her eyes. Suddenly all the periphery details now took center stage. The feel of his fingers on her back, his thumb aligned under her arm. The roughness of his palm against hers. The manly smell of him.
“Maintain resistance.”
No problem there.
“Your arms are like spaghetti, Meri.”
“Meridith.” She stiffened her arms. Her mouth felt as dry as sand. She didn’t like that he could see her and she couldn’t see him.
“Better. Let’s go through the box step again with your eyes closed. Feel me guiding you with my arms.” He counted them off, and they started around the box slowly.
Her feet knew what to do by now, and he was right. She could feel him guiding her if she kept her arms rigid. They went around and around the square. She never stepped on his feet, though she felt the slight brush of his thigh against hers.
He gradually picked up the tempo, then held it once they reached a reasonable pace. Her movements were starting to feel almost fluid, if not exactly graceful. She could do this. Max was going to be so happy. Those boys wouldn’t have any reason to make fun of him when they saw him onstage tonight. She could hardly wait to see his face when—
Meridith didn’t know what happened. One moment she was glorying in her achievement, the next their feet were in a tangle, and she was falling backward.
Eighteen
Jake caught Meridith as she stumbled backward, tightening his arms around her. He pulled her toward him instinctively, breaking her fall.
She clutched his hand, his shoulder, helpless against gravity.
He drew her upright and realized she was nestled against his chest. Then he realized something else.
He liked it.
His right arm had curled around her impossibly small waist. His other hand trapped hers against his heart. He wondered if she could feel its heavy thumps. If she knew it was more than her sudden stumble that caused it.
Her moss green eyes widened. Her lips parted as if she were surprised to find herself pressed against him. He could feel her breaths coming and going, feel the warm puffs of air against his neck.
Have mercy, he wanted to kiss her. Lay one on her and let the pieces fall where they may.
Sudden strains of music broke the silence. Meridith blinked, then dropped her arms and jerked away like he’d electrocuted her.
“My phone,” she mumbled, racing for her purse on the check-in desk.
Jake’s empty arms complained. He turned and made a production of looking for a song on the iPod.
Behind him, Meridith answered the phone. “Hi, Stephen.”
He reveled in the breathless sound of her voice even as he cursed a man he didn’t know.
“Oh, nothing, I—was just helping Max with a—a project. Dancing, actually. I’m going to be in a talent show with him tonight. It was kind of a last-minute thing, but I think . . . Yes, I said dancing . . .”
Jake flipped through the tunes, unseeing. She probably wished they were done, but he still had to teach her to travel, and she and Max had to practice together.
“Actually, I’m doing pretty well.”
He grinned to himself, remembering the near fall she’d just had. Then he remembered what came afterward, and the grin slipped away.
“I am. Listen, I have to go. Klutzes like me take time to teach.”
Jake placed the iPod back in the dock and turned.
“No, I’m not mad.” She’d lowered her voice to a near whisper. “All right. Bye.”
She closed her phone, then took an eternity tucking it into her purse. When she turned, her face was the bland mask usually reserved for customers. “Now. Where were we?”
Jake dribbled the ball toward Wyatt. Score was thirteen to six, and he was on the winning end. Somehow that wasn’t as gratifying as he’d expected.
The afternoon sun glared off the white concrete pad outside Wyatt’s house, and when Jake sucked in a breath, the smell of freshly cut grass filled his lungs. Little early in the season to mow, but who was he to question?
He gave his watch a quick glance. He had fifteen minutes before he had to shower. He wasn’t missing Max’s moment for anything, even if it did mean hiding at the back of the auditorium.
He had time to put up at least four or five more shots.
“So let me get this straight.” Wyatt hunched down, lowering his center of gravity as Jake approached. “This Meridith chick has custody of your niece and nephews.”
“Yep.”
“And you want custody.”
Jake faked a left and spun, then drove the ball in for a clean layup. “Yep. Fourteen.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Wyatt ran his forearm across his forehead, making his curly bangs stand out at an odd angle. He caught the ball and took it out. “And she’s engaged.”
“Yep.”
“She possibly has bipolar disorder.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you ended up in an embrace today when you were teaching her to dance.”
“Did I stutter?”
Wyatt drove the ball in, but Jake headed him off, using his height to his advantage, and forced Wyatt to back off.
“Just saying.” Wyatt dribbled the ball to the other side.
Jake followed his every move, eager for a chance to pounce. He swiped at the ball, but Wyatt swapped hands.
“You’re supposed to let a guy win on his own court, didn’t anyone tell you?”
“I pay rent.”
“Barely.”
“What do you expect for that dinky little garage apart—”
Wyatt took advantage of his distraction to drive the ball around him and put it up. Swish. Wyatt took a lap, feigning the sound of a roaring audience.
“Get a grip, dude, you’re losing bad.”
“Depends how you look at it.”
“Only so many ways to look at a fourteen-seven score.”
Wyatt shrugged, palming the ball in both hands. “Way I figure, I have a beautiful wife inside, and you’re playing footsie with your engaged, possibly mentally ill adversary.” He chucked the ball at Jake, grinning. “You do the math.”
Nineteen
There weren’t enough calming breaths in the world to settle Meridith’s attack of nerves. She and Max took their spot behind the curtain and waited for the trumpet duet to end.
“I’m scared.” Max’s hand was cold and clammy.
“Relax. You’re a great dancer, and you look very handsome.” They’d practiced the dance over and over until Meridith was sure she was going to dance in her sleep tonight. If she made it through this.
A squawk sounded from a trumpet, then a second later a note resonated and hung in the air.
It was their turn.
Max had his eyes closed, his lips moving silently. Say a prayer for me too, she thought. What if she stepped on his toes? What if she stumbled backward as she had with Jake? What if they ended up sprawled on the dusty stage floor with strains of music flowing by them?
The curtain parted, the mechanicals squeaking as the curtain whooshed open. The noises were lost in the applause for the trumpeters as the girl and her father disappeared stage right.
Mrs. Wilcox appeared at the microphone set off to the side. “And now we will enjoy the elegant ballroom dance of Maxwell Ward and his sister, Meridith.”
Meridith turned toward Max, but her eyes caught on someone deep in the darkened auditorium. It looked like . . . but it couldn’t be.
Before her eyes found him again, the spotlight switched on, bathing her and Max in a warm puddle of light.
She gave him a confident smile. Breathe, Meridith, breathe.
The music began, and they counted off six beats silently. Then together they moved in harmony through the first box step. Once they made it around twice, she began to breathe again. Her feet remembered the steps. Thank God.
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Spine straight. Shoulders back. Arms rigid.
Max led her around the stage. She felt the swish of her dress against her knees. One-two-three, one-two-three. The spotlight seemed to spin in her periphery. She kept her eyes on Max, just a few inches beneath her line of vision.
His hand clutched hers, squeezing the blood from her fingers. Nerves. She remembered to smile, performing the steps carefully. She was doing it. They were doing it. Round and round they went. Just another minute or so and it would be over.
As they whirled to the right, Meridith caught sight of Noelle and Ben in the front row. She hoped they were cheering their brother on.
One-two-three, one-two three. Spine straight. Shoulders back. Arms rigid.
Max was a good leader. Not as good as Jake, not as firm, but his height made the movements less awkward. The spotlight lost them, then found them again.
A few more times around. One-two-three, one-two-three. She made eye contact with Max, a silent signal that the end was coming. One-two-three, one-two-three, and . . . the big finish and . . . done! The music ended as her skirt settled around her knees.
The audience began to applaud, and Meridith shared a relieved smile with Max. They took their bows, the curtain drew closed, and they were shrouded in darkness as they trotted offstage.
After the show, Meridith and Max met up with Noelle and Ben in the foyer.
“Nice job, little bro,” Noelle said.
“Yeah, you guys looked like pros,” Ben said.
“I’m so proud of you, Max,” Meridith said.
Max flung his arms around her, and Meridith staggered backward. “Thanks, Meridith.”
Meridith put her arms around the child. “You’re welcome, honey. You did really good.” He was a soft cuddly bear. His hair, freshly washed, smelled like oranges and sunshine.
When the crowd thinned, they went to The Soda Fountain for ice cream to celebrate. Riding home in the van later, Meridith got the first real slice of success since she’d arrived. They’d made it through the dance with flying colors, Max was happy, Ben was noticeably proud of his big brother, and even Noelle seemed to have put her dislike for Meridith aside for the night. Maybe things would work out after all. She caught a glimpse of a possible future with the children, happy and settled in her St. Louis home, and she smiled, content.
Back at the house, they exited the van. Max put Piper in the garage, and Meridith grabbed the mail.
“Up to bed, guys. It’s late.” She smothered a yawn. What a long day.
There was a message on the machine, but it could wait until morning. She flipped through the mail and was ready to set the stack down when she came to the last one.
It was from the tax collector’s office. She slid her finger under the flap, dread kindling in the pit of her stomach. She shook the feeling away. It was probably concerning the transfer of ownership.
She pulled out the letter and unfolded it. Her eyes skimmed the words, the dread in her stomach spreading like wildfire. Nonpayment of taxes . . . delinquency . . . taking of said estate . . . fourteen days.
Fourteen days? Her eyes dropped to the amount due on the last line, and the breath left her lungs. How could she not have known?
Why would her father and Eva have all that money in the bank and not have paid their taxes? She’d gone through their business files and hadn’t seen anything regarding back taxes. But then, it had been a disorganized mess, with papers filed under the wrong headings, many of them old or irrelevant. Eva may have been a hospitable hostess, but she’d lacked in business acumen.
Meridith took the inherited checkbook from her purse and opened it to the register. After paying Jake for the repairs he’d completed last week, she barely had enough to pay the taxes. It would leave her with . . .
She did a quick mental tally. One hundred and twenty dollars.
Not enough for a week’s groceries, to say nothing of all the needed repairs. The house would never pass inspection.
She looked back at the letter and the words taking of said estate stole the decision from her hands. Pay the taxes and take her chances at the sale of Summer Place, or don’t pay the taxes and lose the property.
It wasn’t much of a decision.
Twenty
Jake climbed the apartment stairs, unlocked the door, and shrugged off his suit coat. It was all he could do to focus on Pastor Owens’s sermon. Every time he closed his eyes for prayer, he saw Meridith whirling around the elementary stage, her dress drifting behind her like an afterthought. Max had looked debonair and so grown up in his suit. Eva would’ve been proud.
He sure had been. Proud of both of them. At least when it was finished. Until then, he’d been a basket of nerves. But then they were taking their bows, and he’d never seen Max so proud. Or Meridith so radiant.
And that’s about where his thoughts were when he realized the prayer was over and he still had his head bowed.
After church he’d eaten out with Wyatt and Willow and a few friends from church, and now he found himself free for the afternoon. Maybe he’d take his cycle across the island and enjoy Surfside. Or he could ride up to the cemetery and freshen the gravesites. He’d put out fresh flowers a week ago when he couldn’t get Eva off his mind. He missed his sister so much. He’d sat there for over an hour, thinking of her, missing her, grieving for her.
But he didn’t want to go there today. What he really wanted to do right now was get the kids and take them fishing at Hummock Pond. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t even call them or visit them. This undercover operation had its drawbacks. And yet, what information had he found in his two weeks at Summer Place?
He was going to have to step it up. Start snooping. He hated the thought of rooting through Meridith’s private things. It wasn’t his style. Maybe he could get to know her better, cajole information from her. He hadn’t quizzed her about her future plans for the kids. Not that it was going to help him get them back.
He needed definitive information that proved she was incompetent. Something so severe that the state would go against Eva and T. J.’s will. He’d done some digging at the library and had found that keeping children in their school district was important to judges. Ripping them not only from their school but from the island would surely not be favorable. If only he could find out if that was her intention. But would that be enough?
He wasn’t sure he’d find anything worse. Even if she were bipolar, maybe it was under control with medication. The more he knew Meridith, the more he realized she wasn’t the freak Noelle had claimed. Controlling and paranoid, yes. Repressed, certainly. But incompetent? Not even close. She wasn’t exactly the nurturing type, but she wasn’t cruel.
Still, why was she putting her life on hold to raise three kids? It was obvious she hadn’t been around children much, and she’d never met her siblings before she arrived . . . so why did she want guardianship?
Even if she wasn’t a natural with kids and didn’t understand their grief, he’d have to do better than that to convince a judge she was unfit.
He’d have to get closer to her. It wouldn’t be easy, but he did have his charms. And if the opportunity for a little snooping arose, he wouldn’t turn it down.
A light flashed on his phone, and he punched the button as he unfastened his shirt.
“Hi, this is Meridith. I—uh, have some unfortunate news.” There was a pause.
The kids . . . Jake walked back to the phone as if he doing so would hasten her words.
“There’s been a change in my financial situation, and I won’t be able to finish the house. Effective today. I’m sorry for any inconvenience. But thank you for the work you’ve done.”
Another pause. What had happened? What financial situation? Were the kids okay?
“Oh, I also wanted to let you know the talent show went well. We didn’t so much as falter, and I wanted to thank you for that as well. So. Thanks. I guess that’s all. Bye.”
What was going on? She’d given him no useful in
formation. Maybe he could get hold of Noelle. But he couldn’t risk an e-mail, and a phone call was out of the question. Besides, Noelle wasn’t likely to know what was going on with Meridith’s finances.
Okay, Walker, think.
Meridith didn’t have the money to finish. He couldn’t offer to work for free.
But he could offer a trade . . . Jake felt the weight lift from his shoulders, and as the idea gelled in his mind, a smile pulled at his mouth. Maybe this setback was really an opportunity in disguise.
Twenty-one
Meridith watched the school bus roll from the curb and went to the check-in desk to look over the registry. The tax bill, leaning on a homemade clay pencil holder, mocked her.
She’d go to the treasurer’s office in person and pay the bill today. After that, she’d develop a budget. She’d have to get into her account back home, her personal savings. She hadn’t mentioned that to Stephen when she’d called him the day before, but she didn’t have a choice. They had to eat. She had to keep the electric on, such as it was.
She prayed business would increase as spring progressed. There was a family of four coming late in the week, thanks to spring break, and a couple coming for the weekend. The extra money would help. Seeing how sparse guests were off-season, she realized how costly it was to keep Summer Place running. No wonder they were in arrears. Still, it would’ve been nice knowing that before paying Jake for two weeks’ work.
She’d been thankful he hadn’t answered the day before. Leaving a message was cowardly, but she couldn’t resist taking the easy way out.
As she hung up, a weight she’d later defined as sadness enveloped her. Maybe a little disappointment too. And though she told herself it was the unfinished house that plagued her, deep down she knew it was more.
All the more reason to be glad Jake was out of her life. She was an engaged woman. She didn’t need the distraction of some arrogant man who made her feel . . . things.
Her mind unwittingly flashed back to Saturday when she was whirling around the living room in his arms. When the feel of his shoulder, rock solid, did things to her insides . . . when the stumble had left her crushed against his chest . . .
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