After Francesca had left the previous evening, Sam had called his grandfather to tell him what had happened. Gabriel had been furious at the deception, but not surprised. He’d shown up bright and early to examine his great-granddaughter, but Kelly had yet to make an appearance.
“At least the kid isn’t an idiot,” Gabriel said. “It took brains for her to travel all this way herself. You should be proud.”
“Uh-huh.” Sam was trying not to say much until Gabriel had met Kelly. Maybe she would be better this morning. Maybe last night’s demands and attitude had been more about being tired than anything else.
Unlikely, he thought grimly. Very unlikely.
“Whatever happens, I’m taking responsibility for her,” he said.
“You make me sound like a dog you brought home,” Kelly said as she breezed in the kitchen. “Do I get my own leash and water bowl, too?”
So much for a good night’s sleep improving things, Sam told himself.
“Good morning,” he said. “Gabriel, this is my daughter, Kelly. Kelly, this is your great-grandfather Gabriel.”
The old man looked her over. Sam saw she’d pulled on the same low-rise jeans and yet another abbreviated T-shirt. This one was green, tight, and proclaimed “Girls Rule.” She was barefoot. Her toes were painted, her skin pale.
Kelly tucked several curls behind her ears as she walked past them and headed for the refrigerator. “Whatever. So is there anything for breakfast?”
Sam’s temper boiled, but before he could say anything, Gabriel pounded his cane on the tiled kitchen floor. Kelly jumped.
“What?” she demanded.
“You should lock this one up until she learns some manners,” he said.
Kelly planted her hands on her hips. “We’re not in that century anymore.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t say she was a smart-mouth, Sam. She got that from her mother.”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “Are we done? Can I eat now?”
“I don’t know,” Gabriel said. “Can you?”
Kelly stared at him as if he’d started speaking Russian.
Sam sighed. “May I eat now,” he told her. “Can is ability. May is permission.”
“Oh. You’re one of those.” She turned back to the refrigerator and muttered something about “weird old men.”
“You have a lot of freckles,” Gabriel said.
“Gee, thanks,” Kelly said. “Because until this moment I hadn’t been sure. I kept scrubbing my face, but they wouldn’t come off. Freckles. Who knew?”
Gabriel scowled. “Can we send her back?”
I wish, Sam thought. “We all need time to adjust.”
Kelly shut the refrigerator. “I’d rather be back in New York. Tell you what, Grandpa. Just set me up in an apartment and I’ll be fine. I’ll go to school, then my ballet classes, and you won’t even have to remember that you ever met me.”
Gabriel grumbled something under his breath. Sam wondered if he was doing the math to figure out how much it would cost him.
“You’re not going back to New York,” Sam told her. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours. Why don’t we back off for a few days.”
Kelly scowled. “Tell him to back off.” She walked to the pantry. “What did the ballet teacher say when you spoke with her?”
“I haven’t.”
Kelly turned on him. “What? I asked you to do one thing. Just one. Not twenty, not even five. And you couldn’t do it. Why? Is this just to torture me or do you have a reason?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“With things that are important to you. Not with things that are important to me.”
Sam gripped his coffee mug so tightly, he thought he might snap it in two. His first instinct was to send Kelly to her room and ground her for life. Not that he knew what terms would be considered grounding. Locking her up sounded pretty damn good, though.
He thought about telling her she’d just lost her chance at ever attending a ballet class, but quickly reconsidered. Getting her out of the house for a few hours a day could be a blessing for both of them.
He sucked in a breath. “You know that DVD player you wanted?” he asked. “You can forget it until you learn to speak politely and respectfully.”
She stared at him. “You are so kidding.”
“Not even close, kid.”
“Whatever. I’ll buy it myself.”
That’s right. The credit card, compliments of his mother’s estate. He would have to take care of that next.
“When are you calling the ballet teacher?” she asked through gritted teeth. “I want you to do it now.”
“I will get to it when it’s convenient for me. You can hurry the process along by being civil or you can wait. Your choice.”
She glared at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I absolutely am. I know you’ve been through hell, and I’m sorry about that. However, your circumstances don’t give you the right to mouth off.”
Kelly looked at him as if he were dog crap on her shoes. “If you’re so worried about what I say, then you shouldn’t swear in front of me. Or do the rules only apply to me? Don’t you have to be civil, too?”
With that she turned on her heel and left the room.
Sam clutched his mug, not sure if he was going to drink the contents or throw it across the room.
“She’s a handful,” Gabriel said.
“Tell me about it.”
• • •
“I guess locking her up would be against the law,” Sam said.
Francesca wasn’t completely sure he was kidding. “You know it would be. And it wouldn’t solve any problems.”
“Maybe it would. You could report me and the state would take her away.”
“Is that what you want?”
He shook his head. “No. What I want is for this to be easier.”
“It’s only day one,” she reminded him.
It was mid-afternoon. She’d arrived about an hour before to find Kelly eating lunch by herself and Sam holed up in his office. Neither of them seemed to be speaking to the other, and Kelly had barely acknowledged her.
She and Sam were out on the deck, enjoying the warm afternoon, with a soft ocean breeze blowing over them. He was holding her hand, which made her want to talk about tangled sheets instead of his daughter. But that wasn’t an option right now. Which was really too bad.
“It’s been a long day,” he told her, then explained what had happened that morning when Gabriel had been over to meet Kelly.
Francesca winced. “Okay, so we won’t describe her as shy or timid. What did your grandfather say?”
“Nothing I can repeat in mixed company. He wasn’t a fan of my ex-wife’s, either, and to his mind, Kelly is too much like her.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you handled the situation really well. If she wants a DVD player, that gives you something to hold over her head.” She glanced at him and smiled. “I mean that figuratively, not literally.”
“I know. I’m not interested in hurting her. What I would like instead is to deal with a regular child instead of Teen-zilla.”
“Does she have access to a computer?”
“Yes. In the other guest room.”
“Then she could go buy the player herself. She’s good at that.”
He grinned. “Not anymore. I’ve canceled her credit card.”
“How?”
“I contacted the law firm handling my mother’s estate. Tanya had already told them that I had custody of Kelly. The lawyer I spoke with said I was entitled to the same monetary provisions Tanya had—Kelly’s expenses covered plus five thousand a month.” He shook his head. “I told them that wasn’t necessary.”
“She’s going to be crabby when she finds out she can’t shop at will.”
He chuckled. “I know. I figured I’d let her find out for herself.” His humor faded. “The lawyer told me something else. When Kelly was born, my mother had
the paternity checked. The kid is mine.”
Francesca was afraid to ask if that was good or bad. “At least you know.”
“There wasn’t a whole lot of doubt, but yeah, I know.” He shrugged. “I got in touch with that ballet teacher, too. Angelina something. She’s willing to see Kelly tomorrow. Apparently there’s an audition process to get into this class. It must be a big deal. She has an appointment at eleven.”
“Want me to take her?”
Sam looked at her. “You have your own life and it doesn’t include Teen-zilla.”
Francesca smiled. “Agreed, but I was serious when I said I would help. Hey, I spent the morning organizing my closet just to avoid working on my outline. Driving Kelly to her ballet audition would be a far better displacement activity. I could come here first thing and you could go to work.”
He looked as hopeful as a drowning man spotting a rescue boat. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll be sure to return the favor.” He brought her hand to his mouth and lightly kissed her knuckles.
The brush of his lips against her skin sent heat racing through her body, but before she could do something wild like throw herself at him and beg to be taken, he lowered his arm back to the table between their chairs.
Oh, well. Maybe next time.
“I have this theory about Kelly,” she said. “I was thinking about her while cleaning out my closet. I think she’s in a lot of emotional pain.”
Sam looked at her. “From her mother dumping her on me?”
“It’s more than that. The way Kelly talks about her life in New York, she was completely on her own. Even if you factor out a child’s inclination to exaggerate, it’s still pretty awful. You mentioned that Tanya was seeing someone she wanted to marry who never knew about Kelly. Combine those elements and you have a child who feels unloved and unwelcome. In her mind she could be thinking she’s so horrible, she has to be kept a secret. Then her mother abandons her, and she meets a father she never knew about. Kelly has to be terrified, lonely, and really hurting.”
He considered the information. “You think that’s why she’s being so difficult? She’s lashing out like a wounded animal?”
“Exactly. With some time and positive attention, she’ll be a completely different person.”
“What if that person is worse?”
Francesca chuckled. “She won’t be.”
“You can’t know that for sure.” He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “I went online, looking for some parenting books. There are a bunch on raising teens, and the descriptions scared the hell out of me. I want to back up and get her younger. Or when she’s eighteen. Plus none of them had any practical information on things like what to feed her and how much sleep she needs.”
Francesca did her best to ignore the tingling brought on by his light stroking and instead pay attention to the conversation. “She’s not a llama. She doesn’t have a special diet. Offer her healthy food and let her pick what she wants. As for sleep, by the end of summer you will know how much she needs so she’s alert for school.”
“Healthy food? I was going to order in Chinese tonight.”
“That’s fine once in a while. You don’t have to dine on tofu every night.”
“I’m not dining on tofu ever.”
“Still a steak guy?”
He turned toward her. “I’m a man of simple tastes. I know what I like and I go after it.”
She melted. Right there on the chair. Sam leaned forward and kissed her. Just as she parted her mouth, a door slammed in the house. Sam swore.
She considered the single word, then sighed. “Maybe next time.”
8
“And one, and two, and three, and now!”
Kelly moved in time with the music. She swept her arms up in the air, then bent low at the waist, turning slightly. Her young face was the picture of concentration. Despite the plain black tights and leotards, with her hair pulled back and her skin bare of makeup, she reminded Francesca of a butterfly in a flower garden, flitting with grace and delight on a perfect summer day.
As she had learned in the past hour, the reality of ballet was far more about hard work than flitting, but the end result was just as beautiful. As the music swelled slightly, Kelly rose on her toes and began to turn slowly. Her little skirt swayed with the movement.
Francesca knew she should be working on organizing her paper, or reading the research book she’d brought with her, but she’d been unable to tear her attention away from Kelly’s dance audition. What she knew about ballet and classical music wouldn’t fill a thimble. She’d seen The Nutcracker a couple of times, but other than that her cultural education had been limited to the occasional trip to the opera.
Sitting at the edge of the practice room, she could see firsthand how difficult the moves were. The first half hour had been devoted to specific moves done at slow speed. But the lack of speed didn’t make it easy. Parts of different dances had filled the second half hour. The instructor had called out the name of a ballet and some other instructions in French, then Kelly had performed.
Francesca watched her. The slender preteen moved with a grace that made Francesca envious. With her hair pulled back, she looked older than twelve. Her eyes seemed more green than they had the night before. She was already pretty—becoming beautiful was only a few years away. Sam was going to have plenty of trouble when the boys started to come calling.
The instructor—Miss Angelina—spoke in rapid French. Francesca had taken a couple of years of Spanish in high school and knew a smattering of Italian from her father’s family. For all she knew, Miss Angelina was telling Kelly to get ready to rob a convenience store. But instead of reaching for weapons, Kelly curtsied.
Miss Angelina nodded and left the room. Kelly stared after her.
In that moment, longing tightened the girl’s features. She looked alone, vulnerable, and very young.
Francesca stood. “What happened?” she asked.
Kelly shrugged. “I’m in. No biggie. You saw those other girls when we got here. Some of them are good, but the rest…” She shrugged and started toward the dressing room.
Francesca wanted to follow her and shake her. Being accepted into the dance class was a big deal. Why couldn’t Kelly be excited? Why didn’t she jump around like a normal kid? Or had life taught her not to show emotions because they could be used against her?
“I have Kelly’s application papers here,” the instructor said as she walked back into the studio. Her voice was lilting, and tinged with a French accent. “She will join my upper-intermediate class. If she works hard, she’ll be with the advanced students within a year.”
Angelina’s eyes narrowed. “You are her mother?” She sounded doubtful.
“No. A friend of the family.”
Angelina looked her over. Francesca fought against the sudden need to stand straighter and square her shoulders.
“She will need a practice room. Class is five days a week in the summer, but when school begins it is only three times a week.” She shrugged delicately. “She will have to dance on her own the other days. Unless you hire a private tutor, she must attend academic classes, yes?”
A private tutor? So she could dance the rest of the time. This was so not her world. At least Sam’s house had plenty of bedrooms. One could probably be converted to a practice room.
“I’ll pass the message along to her father.”
“My bill.” The teacher handed her another sheet of paper. “This is for a month’s worth of lessons.”
Francesca glanced down at the total at the bottom and nearly fell over. She could easily live on that amount for two months.
“Anything else?” she asked, trying not to look shocked.
Angelina shook her head and smiled. “The rest is up to Kelly. Soon we will see if she has the backbone and the drive to devote herself to the ballet. She has much talent, but at this stage in her career, success will be about hard work. Oui?”
>
Kelly was only twelve. Francesca didn’t think anyone should be using the word career in reference to anything she id.
“Thank you so much for your time,” Francesca told her.
Angelina nodded gracefully, then returned to her office. Seconds later Kelly emerged from the dressing room.
“That was something,” Francesca said as she approached. “I’m amazed and impressed. I had no idea a class could be so much work.”
“That wasn’t a regular class. Miss Angelina wanted to see what I could do. Is that the application and stuff?” she asked, pointing at the folder.
“Yes. I’ll give it to your father when we get back to the house. Speaking of which, do you want to head home or go out for lunch? It’s only a little after noon.”
Kelly gave a heavy sigh of the long-suffering. “Lunch would be okay.”
Francesca wanted to tell her not to put herself out, but she held back. As she’d told Sam the previous evening, Kelly was acting up because she was scared. Somewhere under that prickly exterior was a charming young woman waiting to blossom. At least, that was the fantasy.
Thirty minutes later they were seated on a patio table in the shade. Kelly had left her hair up, but had pulled on jeans and a T-shirt over her ballet clothes. Francesca studied the menu and mentally winced at the prices. Twelve-fifty for a salad? If this was lunch, how much would dinner cost?
Not her problem, she reminded herself. That morning Sam had handed over cash, along with phone numbers and instructions to have fun. She’d been uncomfortable taking money from him, but as he’d pointed out, she was taking care of his daughter. That was favor enough without making her pay for anything.
She had agreed, mostly because she didn’t have a choice. Places like this weren’t in her budget.
The waitress arrived. They each ordered a Chinese chicken salad. Kelly asked for a cup of soup to start with while Francesca decided to content herself with the incredible French bread they’d brought.
When the two of them were alone, Francesca looked at Sam’s daughter. The girl watched her carefully, as if not sure what was going to happen. Okay, so the situation was a little strange for both of them. Less than forty-eight hours ago neither had known the other existed. As the adult, Francesca knew it was up to her to make Kelly comfortable.
The Sassy One Page 10
