by Arlene James
Gilli’s brow puckered. “What’s Balertine?”
“It’s a day for sweethearts,” Odelia supplied, smiling beatifically, “when people who love each other exchange gifts.”
Gilli stared at Anna, speculation lighting her copper-brown eyes. They were so like Reeves’s that Anna’s heart flipped over inside her chest. Gilli’s gaze switched to the envelope. Anna carefully removed the card and held it out. Gilli pounced.
“Pretty!”
“Let us see,” Odelia urged. Gilli ran to her great aunt, trailing glitter. Odelia gushed over the card, opening it and reading the sentiment inside. “Happy Valentine’s Day to a roller-skating ballerina.”
Gilli tilted her head, caramel-colored curls bouncing. “What’s balaringa?”
Odelia tapped the drawing on the front of the card. “This is a ballerina. See her pretty dress?”
Gasping, Gilli ran to the bag. “Is it balaringa dress?”
“Nope,” Anna replied as Gilli pulled the helmet from the bag. “It’s what you need to learn to skate.”
The girl instantly deflated, dropping the helmet and slumping her shoulders. “Daddy won’t teach me.”
“I will,” Anna told her, reaching into the bag to remove the knee and elbow pads.
Gilli gasped and immediately turned pleading eyes on Hypatia, wheedling, “Can I? Pleeease, pleeeease? I’m old to skate.”
Anna said nothing. Was it her fault if Reeves hadn’t made his opinion on the matter clear to his aunts?
Hypatia exchanged glances with her sisters before saying, “I think some exercise would do you a world of good, Gilli. Thank you, Anna. Gilli, run upstairs to get your skates.”
Gilli began to bounce up and down. “Skates! Skates! Skates!”
“I’ll go with her,” Odelia volunteered, swinging her legs off the chaise.
“And I’ll get her coat from the cloakroom,” Magnolia added.
“Bring extra pairs of thick socks, too,” Anna said to Odelia, who had risen and taken Gilli by the hand. “The skates may be a little large for her.”
“The extra socks will keep her warm,” Hypatia noted.
“Skates! Skates! Skates!” Gilli chanted, hopping along beside Odelia as the older woman led her from the room, Magnolia on their heels.
“How thoughtful you are, Anna Miranda,” Hypatia said with a gentle smile.
Anna shrugged and confessed, “I have an ulterior motive. I think Reeves needs to pay his daughter more attention, and I hope this shows him that she’s old enough to reason with and not just scold.”
Hypatia’s smile widened. “You are answered prayer, my dear.”
Taken aback by that, Anna passed the older woman her portfolio, babbling, “The…the samples…for you to look at.”
“Ah,” Hypatia purred, drawing the portfolio into her lap. “We’ll talk again later.”
Nodding, Anna shoved the pads and helmet back into the bag, then quickly excused herself and escaped to fetch her gear from the car. She left the bag at the foot of the stairs and returned moments later to find an excited Gilli with her helmet on backward, trying to tear her pads from their packaging. While Odelia clucked and Magnolia held Gilli’s coat, Anna laughed to see Gilli so excited. She sat down on the stairs to help the girl properly don her new safety gear then put on her own before working the extra socks onto Gilli’s feet.
“We’ll put on our skates outside,” she instructed.
“How come?”
“So we don’t damage the floors or break any of your aunts’ valuable antiques.”
Gilli blinked at her then quickly gathered up her hard plastic skates, hugging them to her chest. Anna slung her own over one shoulder by the carry strap, while Odelia and Magnolia together managed to get Gilli into her coat.
With Gilli’s great-aunts waving fondly, Anna ushered the girl out of the house and across the porch to the brick steps. It took several minutes to get skates on both of them. Anna donned her own first, and then buckled Gilli tightly into the pink-and-purple skates. They were a bit large as well as a little too tall, but they would do.
“Okey-doke, let’s get out to the sidewalk.”
That proved a major undertaking. Gilli literally threw herself toward the street, only to wind up sprawled facedown on the gravel drive. Though she wailed for a minute, she wasn’t hurt. The gravel was very deep and served to cushion Gilli’s fall; it also provided a perfect base for Gilli to learn to stand and walk in her skates. By the time they’d made their way down the drive to the edge of the property, Anna had almost convinced herself that she actually could accomplish her goal and teach Gilli to skate. Sort of. She hoped.
They reached the massive wrought-iron gate, which stood open, and used it to work their way past the grate between drive and street to the sidewalk beyond. A harrowing half hour followed, during which they both took several spills. Thankfully, neither suffered more than bruises, and gradually Anna found herself merely tense rather than terrified. Then, suddenly, everything seemed to click and Gilli was skating, or waddling on wheels, anyway. Gilli couldn’t have been more thrilled.
Relieved, Anna’s fatigue disappeared, and she began to instruct Gilli on technique, confident of success. She forgot all about tweaking Reeves and got swept up, instead, in the pride and joy on Gilli’s sweet little face. They were both exhausted but laughing as they skated slowly, hand in hand and noses rosy, back toward the estate gate over an hour later. They had almost reached it when a late model, silver, domestic sedan turned into the drive and stopped. The driver’s door opened, and Reeves Leland got out, staring at them over the top of the car.
“Daddy!” Gilli called, waving. “Look! Look!”
Anna held her breath, suddenly wishing she’d gone about this whole thing differently. Why hadn’t she realized that she might be overstepping? Gilli was his daughter; he had authority over her, not his aunts. He might be not just irritated but very angry with Anna. That did not seem like such a fun thing all of a sudden.
“I’m skating!” Gilli cried needlessly.
“So you are,” Reeves said after a moment, and to Anna’s everlasting relief, he smiled. His gaze shifted to Anna then, and the smile froze, looking a tad strained around the edges.
For the first time, no quip sprang to her tongue, no goading put-down, no clever crack or blistering boast. Instead, Anna drew Gilli to a halt at the edge of the drive and smiled tentatively, aware that Gilli babbled at her side about the morning’s adventure. Reeves switched his attention back to his daughter, smiling down at her and nodding.
Finally, Gilli drew breath enough for Reeves to speak. “I guess you’ve grown into those skates, after all.”
“They’re actually a little large still,” Anna confessed. “She’s got on extra socks.”
A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds just then, lighting his face so that his eyes glinted like new pennies. “Guess it’s a good thing it’s winter.”
“True.” An awkward silence followed, and Anna felt a great urge to fill it. “Maybe by summer she’ll truly have grown into them.”
“Maybe,” he said, looking down at Gilli. “If you’d like to take off your skates you can ride up to the house with me.”
Gilli dropped Anna’s hand and plopped down onto the cold sidewalk. Reeves came around to crouch beside her and help her remove the skates. He tapped a knuckle against her pink-and-purple helmet, asking, “Where did you get this?”
Gilli tilted her head back, looking up at Anna. “She got it.”
Reeves looked up at Anna, his forearms balanced atop his knees. “That was very nice of her.”
Anna muttered that it was nothing. She had never felt so off-kilter in her life. It was weird. This was not what she expected of Reeves. He was actually being nice to her.
He rose to open the back door of the car and drop the skates onto the floorboard while Gilli scrambled inside. Reeves got her into her safety seat, closed the door and turned to Anna. “How about you?”
; “Huh?” The question made no sense to Anna, so she stood there gaping at him like a landed fish.
“Want a ride?”
“Oh! No, I’ll just—” She almost bit her tongue off, realizing only belatedly what she’d said. Why had she refused a ride up to the house? Tired and beginning to feel chilled, she dreaded that deep gravel, but it was as if her brain had gone into hibernation. Before she could bully it to full wakefulness, Reeves got in behind the steering wheel.
An instant later, the car engine started. She watched the car move up the long drive and sighed before beginning the slog up to the house.
Things weren’t turning out quite as she’d planned for some reason, but what could she do except trudge forward?
Gilli chattered happily all the way up the drive, something about ballerinas, as far as Reeves could tell. She casually mentioned falling down, as if it was no big deal, and actually laughed about “bonking” her head and how much she liked her helmet. Reeves marveled that this was the same kid who howled like she was being beaten with a whip if he so much as shook a finger in her face, not that he’d ever laid a hand on her in anger. His stepmother, Layla, often counseled him to spank Gilli, but he’d noticed that Layla never followed her own advice with his baby sister Myra, though in fairness Myra did tend to behave better than Gilli. Reeves knew instinctively that was his fault; he just didn’t know what to do about it.
“And now I can skate!” Gilli announced, pride in every syllable. “But not in the house,” she went on, barely drawing breath. “No, no, not in the house, because of the val’ble antikies.”
“Antiques,” Reeves corrected with a smile.
“What’s antiks?”
“Furniture and things like that. Very old furniture and things. The aunties’ house is full of them.”
“If they’re old, how come they don’t throw them away,” she wanted to know, “like you threw away my shirt?”
“Because, unlike old shirts, antiques are very rare. That means they cost a lot of money. That’s why we have to be very careful with the aunties’ things.”
“Oh.” She sounded surprised but also informed, as if she’d just made a discovery.
Reeves shook his head, wondering why he hadn’t thought to explain that to her before. Anna Miranda obviously had, at least to a point. He glanced into the side mirror, watching Anna Miranda struggle up the graveled drive.
He hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when he’d first seen Gilli and Anna Miranda skating toward him, holding hands. At first, he’d been angry enough to spit. Then, once he’d accepted the fact that Gilli had obviously learned to skate, he’d felt a flash of resentment because Anna Know-It-All Miranda had been right. Remembering his promise to God the evening before, he’d said a quick prayer and tried to analyze the situation clearly.
What he had seen after that was the triumphant smile on his daughter’s face and, to his surprise, the wary expression on Anna Miranda’s. He’d expected her to be smug, self-satisfied, perhaps even disdainful, but she had looked genuinely guarded, almost worried. With good reason. He hadn’t exactly given her the benefit of the doubt since they’d become reacquainted. Just the opposite, in fact.
From the beginning, he had assumed that she was up to no good, entertaining herself at his expense. Yet, there sat Gilli in safety gear that perfectly matched her skates, beaming and chattering like the happiest of little girls. He had to admit that, whatever Anna Miranda’s intentions, she had made his little girl very happy today.
It stung that he hadn’t been the one to do that for his daughter. It even stung a bit than Anna Miranda had refused to ride up to the house with him, but he pushed that aside, determined to concentrate on the good she had done for Gilli. And him. His daughter obviously could respond to instruction if properly given.
He brought the sedan to a halt behind Anna Miranda’s battered coupe, noting that she’d pasted a bumper sticker that said “Imagine Art” over a scratch on the trunk lid and covered a hole in her taillight with red plastic tape. He wondered if she couldn’t afford better. The idea surprised him, for the Burdetts, while not in the same league as the Chatams, were known to be well-off.
After climbing out of the car, he went for Gilli. She reached up, and because she was in her stocking feet, he pulled her into his arms and carried her toward the steps. It occurred to him that he hadn’t actually held her in a long time, and he was surprised by how much she had grown, how much she had changed. Her little muscles felt strong and lean. She wasn’t a baby anymore, and the realization clutched at his heart.
“Want to see my balaringa?” she asked hopefully.
“I think you mean ballerina, yes?”
Gilli nodded eagerly. “Her dress is so pretty. It sparkles, too. Wanna see?”
“Okay. Where is it?”
“Auntie ’Patia gots it, and she got one, too, but it is the house on it, and no sparkles.” She slashed a hand downward, emphasizing the sad lack of sparkles.
“Ah.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, not even when she said, “Anna did it.”
“Is that so?”
Gilli nodded enthusiastically. Reeves glanced down the drive. Anna Miranda was finally drawing near, huffing and puffing with the effort. He felt Gilli’s arm slip around his neck, and a love so strong and poignant seized him that it constricted his throat. He looked at her and saw the undiluted pride and joy in her eyes. It broke open something inside his chest, something cold and hard that he hadn’t even known existed. It hurt, ached, but he felt an odd sense of relief, too, as if a boil had been lanced.
Anna Miranda drew up at last, leaning against the rear fender of his car. Reeves hefted Gilli a little higher against his chest and asked her, “Have you thanked Anna Miranda for your new things and teaching you to skate?”
Gilli leaned toward Anna Miranda and shouted, “Thank you!” Apparently in her world volume added weight to gratitude.
Before Reeves could scold her, Anna Miranda laughed and shouted back. “You’re welcome!”
Gilli giggled behind her hands. For several seconds he could do nothing but revel in his daughter’s sweet laughter, glad that he hadn’t prevented it with his scolding. Finally, he turned and carried her up the steps.
“Go tell the aunties how well you’re skating now,” Reeves instructed, opening the front door and setting her on her feet in the foyer. “I’ll bring your skates in after I speak with Anna Miranda.”
Gilli waved at Anna Miranda and ran down the hallway, yelling, “I can skate! For real! I can skate!”
Reeves pulled the door closed and turned to address Anna Miranda. He didn’t quite know how to behave with her. They’d been at loggerheads for so long, despite the years without contact. Those few minutes in the coffee shop were his only frame of reference for dealing with her on a normal basis. She lifted her helmet off her head, holding it against her hip with one hand while ruffling her hair with the other. She looked tired and mussed and perfectly adorable.
Adorable?
Shaking his head, Reeves descended the shallow steps and simply said, “Thanks.”
Her delicate brows rose, her light, pure blue eyes widening. A smile tugged at her lips. “And?”
Of course, she would have her pound of flesh. Ah, well, in this case she deserved it. “And,” he said slowly, “you were right.”
Anna laid her head back against the roof of his car, her gaze moving back and forth. “Excuse me while I check to see if the sky is falling.”
He fought a sudden smile. “Very funny. But, really, you shouldn’t have done it.”
Her gaze sharpened, instantly defensive. “Your aunts gave me permission.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Well, what did you mean, then?” she snapped. “That I’m not a capable teacher? I think events prove otherwise.”
Reeves sucked in air and counted to ten. He would not, would not, let her spike his temper. Again. “I meant that you shouldn’t have spent your
money on Gilli. I’ll reimburse you the cost of the helmet and pads.”
“No, you won’t.” She pushed away from the car and made her way to the steps, where she sat and began removing her skates.
Reeves swallowed the argument that wanted to batter its way out of his mouth and changed the subject, asking, “What’s this about a ballerina? And something about the house?”
Anna Miranda looked up at him, smiling crookedly. “I made Valentine cards for Gilli and your aunts last night.”
Reeves’s mouth dropped open an instant before he pressed both palms to his temples. “This is the fourteenth! It’s Valentine’s Day!” And he had nothing for his daughter or aunts. Anna dropped one brow. Her expression seemed to say that he was the biggest idiot in creation. He couldn’t disagree. “Oh, man. I completely forgot! There’s this negotiation at work, and my house is all torn apart, and…”
Why even bother explaining? She’d still think he was an abysmal failure as a father and nephew, and she would be right. His aunts and daughter didn’t have to know that he’d forgotten about them, though. He shoved aside his overcoat and dug his hand into the pockets of his pants for his keys.
“I—I have to go. J-just say I’ll be back in a minute, would you? Please, Anna Miranda.”
“Okay,” she said, and he pivoted to leave, but then she added, “provided…”
Reeves froze then slowly turned back. “Provided what?” he asked sharply.
She looked him square in the eye. “Provided you stop calling me Anna Miranda.”
Of all the things she could have said, that was the last one he might have expected. “What else would I call you?”
“Anna!” she exclaimed, as if it ought to somehow be obvious. “Just Anna. It is my first name, you know.”
“B-but,” he sputtered, “you’ve always been—”
“Anna Miranda was a child,” she interrupted hotly. “Anna is an adult. Surely you’ve noticed that I am an adult.”
Oh, he had noticed, all right. He was noticing at that very moment, and it made him want to run fast in the opposite direction. But he owed her. Heaven help him, he owed Anna Mir—uh, Anna Burdett.
