The Daddy Dance

by Mindy Klasky

  Those were the words she forced herself to think, but that’s not what she wanted to believe. Rye Harmon had been the first boy to kiss her. Sure, she had pretended not to know him the day before. And over the years, she’d told herself that it had never actually happened. Even if it had, it had been a total accident, a complete surprise to both of them. But his lips had touched hers when she was only fourteen—his lips, so soft and sweet and kind—and sometimes it had seemed that she’d been spoiled for any other boy after that.

  She forced herself to laugh, and to take a step away. “We all think we’re freaks when we’re teenagers,” she said.

  For just an instant, she thought that he was going to follow her. She thought that he was going to take the single step to close the distance between them, to gather up her hair again, to put those hands to even better use.

  But then he matched her shaky laugh, tone for tone, and the moment was past. “Thank God no one judges us on the mistakes we make when we’re young,” he said.

  Rye berated himself as Kat sought refuge behind the desk. What the hell was he doing, reacting like that, to a woman he hadn’t seen since she was a kid? For a single, horrible second, he thought it was because of Rachel. Because of those few tumultuous weeks, almost six years before.

  But that couldn’t be. Despite the DNA that Kat and Rachel shared, they were nothing alike. Physically, emotionally—they might as well live on two different planets. He was certain of that—his body was every bit as sure as his mind.

  It was Kat who drew him now. Kat who attracted him. Kat whom he did not want to scare away.

  He squared his shoulders and shoved his left hand deep into the pocket of his jeans. “Here,” he said, producing a small leather case. “You left your cell phone in my car. I found it this morning, and I called your parents’ house, but your mother said you were over here.”

  Kat snatched the phone from his open palm, like a squirrel grabbing a peanut from a friendly hand. She retreated behind the desk, using the cell as an excuse to avoid Rye’s eyes, to escape that warm black gaze. Staring at the phone’s screen, she bit her lip when she realized she still had no reception. “Stupid carrier,” she said.

  “Pretty much all of them have lousy reception around here. It’s better up on the bluffs.”

  The bluffs. Kat may have left town when she was fourteen, but she had already heard rumors about the bluffs. About the kids who drove up there, telling their parents they were going to the movies. About the kids who climbed into backseats, who got caught by flashlight-wielding policemen.

  But that was stupid. She wasn’t a kid. And it only made sense that she’d get better cell phone reception at the highest point in town. “I’ll head up there, then, if I need to make a call.”

  Damn. She hadn’t quite managed to keep her voice even. Well, in for an inch, in for a mile. She might as well apologize now, for having pretended not to know him.

  She took a deep breath before she forced herself to meet his eyes. He seemed to be laughing at her, gently chiding her for her discomfort. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about yesterday. About acting like I didn’t know who you were. I guess I just felt strange, coming back here. Coming back to a place that’s like home, but isn’t.”

  He could have made a joke. He could have tossed away her apology. He could have scolded her for being foolish. But instead, he said, “‘Like home, but isn’t.’ I’m learning what you mean.” At her questioning look, he went on. “Moving up to Richmond. It’s what I’ve always wanted. When I’m here, I can’t wait to get back there, can’t wait to get back to work. But when I’m there…I worry about everyone here. I think about everything I’m missing.”

  It didn’t help that everyone in Eden Falls thought he was nuts for moving away. Every single member of his family believed that the little town was the perfect place to raise kids, the perfect place to grow up, surrounded by generations. Marissa had said that to him, over and over again, and he’d believed her, because Eden Falls was the only place he’d ever known.

  But now, having gotten away to Richmond, he knew that there was a whole wide world out there. He owed it to himself to explore further, to test himself, to see exactly how much he could achieve.

  Like Kat had, daring to leave so long ago. If anyone was going to understand him, Kat would.

  He met her gaze as if she’d challenged him out loud. “I have to do it. It’s like I…I have to prove something. To my family and to myself—I can make this work, and not just because I’m a Harmon. Not just because I know everyone in town, and my daddy knows everyone, and his daddy before him. If I can make Harmon Contracting succeed, it’ll be because of who I am. What I do.”

  Kat heard the earnestness in Rye’s voice, the absolute certainty that he was going to make it. For just a second, she felt a flash of pain somewhere beneath her breastbone, as if her soul was crying out because she had lost something precious.

  But that was absurd. Rye had moved to Richmond, the same way that she had moved to New York. They both had found their true paths, found their way out of Eden Falls. And she’d be back in her true home shortly, back with the National Ballet, back on stage, just as soon as she could get out of her stupid walking boot.

  And as soon as she got the Morehouse Dance Academy back on its feet. She pasted on her very best smile and extended her hand, offering the handshake that would seal their deal. “I almost feel guilty,” she said. “Keeping you away from Richmond. But you’re the one who offered.”

  His fingers folded around hers, and she suddenly had to fight against the sensation that she was falling, tumbling down a slope so steep that she could not begin to see the bottom. “I did,” he said. “And I always keep my word.”

  His promise shivered down her spine, and she had to remind herself that they were talking about a business proposition. Nothing more. Rye Harmon would never be anything more to her. He couldn’t be. Their past and their future made anything else impossible.

  Chapter Three

  Three days later, Kat was back in the studio office, sorting through a stack of papers. Rye was working in the bathroom, replacing the insides of the running toilets. The occasional clank of metal against porcelain created an offbeat music for Kat’s work.

  She’d been productive all morning long. That was after seeing Jenny off to school, ignoring the child’s demands for sugar on her corn flakes, an extra sparkling ribbon for her hair and a stuffed animal to keep her company throughout the day. Kat had a plan—to bring order to Jenny’s life—and she was going to stick with it. If it took Jenny another day or week or month to get on board, it was just going to take that long.

  Not that Kat had any intention of still being in Eden Falls in a month.

  That morning, Susan had driven her to the studio. When her mother had put the car in Park and taken off her own seat belt, Kat had practically squawked. “You have to get back to Daddy!”

  “I can stay away for an hour,” Susan had said. “Let me help you here.”

  “I’m fine! Seriously. There’s hardly anything left for me to do.” Susan had looked doubtful, until Kat added, “I just want to have a quiet morning. Maybe do a few exercises. You know, I need to keep in shape.” Kat was desperate to keep her mother from seeing the devastation inside the studio. “Please, Mama. The whole reason I’m here in Eden Falls is so that you can rest. Take advantage of me while you can. Relax a little. Go back home and make yourself a cup of that peach tea you like so much.”

  “I did want to get your father sitting up for the rest of the morning. He’s feeling so much stronger now that he’s getting his sleep.”

  “Perfect!” Kat had said, letting some of her real pleasure color the word. If her father was recovering, then it was worth all the little struggles to get Jenny in line. “Go home. I’ll call Amanda to pick me up when I’m done here.�
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  Susan had smiled then. “My little general,” she said, patting Kat’s hand fondly. “You’ve got a plan for everything, don’t you?”

  Planning. That was Kat’s strong suit. Over the weekend, she had written up a list of everything that had to be done at the studio, from computer repair to roofing. She had placed her initials beside each item that she was taking charge of, and she’d dashed off Rye’s initials next to his responsibilities. A few items—like the computer—needed to be outsourced, but she would take care of them one by one, doing her best to support the Eden Falls economy.

  Goals. Strategies. Rules.

  Those were the words that had brought her great success over the years. Sure, as a young girl, miles away from home in New York, she had wondered how she would ever succeed at National Ballet. But she had built her own structure, given her life solid bones—and she had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams.

  Okay. Not her wildest dreams. Some of her dreams were pretty wild—she saw herself dancing the tortured maiden Giselle, the girl who died when her love was spurned by the handsome Prince Albrecht. Or the playful animation of the wooden-doll-come-to-life in Coppelia. Or the soul-wrenching dual roles of the black and white swans in Swan Lake.

  All in due time, Kat told herself. As soon as she was out of her hated walking boot, she would exercise like a demon. She would get herself back in top dancing form in no time, transform her body into a more efficient tool than it had been before her injury. Goals. Strategies. Rules.

  She could do it. She always had before.

  Just thinking about her favorite roles made her long for the National Ballet Company. She hadn’t spent more than a weekend away from her ballet friends since moving to New York ten years before. Sitting down at the desk in the office, Kat punched in Haley’s phone number. Her roommate picked up on the third ring.

  “Tell me that they’re making you work like dogs, and I’m impossibly lucky to be trapped here in Small Town Hell,” Kat said without preamble.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Haley responded with a mocking tone of wide-eyed wonder. “The company has been treating us to champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. Free mani-pedis, and hot stone massages for all.”

  “I hate you,” Kat said, laughing.

  “How are things on the home front?”

  “Well, the good news is that my father seems to be doing better.”

  “I know you well enough to read that tone of voice. What’s the bad news?”

  Where to start? Kat could say that her niece was a brat. That her sister was a lazy, irresponsible waste of an excuse for a grown woman. That the dance studio was falling down around her ears.

  Or she could step back and make herself laugh at the mess she’d volunteered to put right. Squaring her shoulders, she chose the latter route. “There’s not a single coffee cart on one corner in all of Eden Falls. And they’ve never heard of an all-night drugstore.”

  Haley laughed. “I’d send you a care package, but you’ll probably be gone by the time it could get there. Any sign of the prodigal daughter?”

  “Rachel? Not a hint. As near as I can tell, she actually took off about three months ago.”

  “Ouch. You guys really don’t talk to each other, do you? But didn’t your mother just tell you last week?”

  “Exactly,” Kat said grimly, not bothering to recite the hundreds of reasons she didn’t keep in touch with her sister. “Mama didn’t want to worry me, or so she says.” Kat wouldn’t have worried about Rachel. Not for one single, solitary second. Getting enraged with her, now that was something else entirely….

  “Do they have any idea where she is?”

  “She sends my niece postcards. The last one arrived two weeks ago, from New Orleans. A picture of a fan dancer on the front, and postage due.”

  Haley clicked her tongue. “She really is a piece of work, isn’t she?”

  Kat sighed. “The thing is, I don’t even care what she does with her own life. I just hate seeing the effect it has on my parents. And Jenny, too. She’s not a bad kid, but she hasn’t had any structure in her life for so long that she doesn’t even know how to be good.”

  “How much longer are you staying?”

  That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, wasn’t it? “I’m not sure. At first, I thought that I could only stand a week here, at most.”

  “But now?”

  “Now I’m realizing that there’s more work to take care of than I thought there was. Mama’s dance studio has been a bit…ignored since Daddy got sick.”

  “I thought your sister was taking care of all that.”

  “I’ll give you a moment, to think about the logic of that statement.” Over the years, Kat had vented to Haley plenty of times about Rachel. “I’ve got my goals in place, though. Rye should be able to get everything pulled together in another week or so. Ten days at most.”

  “Rye?” There were a hundred questions pumped into the single syllable and more than one blatantly indecent suggestion. Kat’s heart pounded harder, and she glanced toward the hallway where Rye was working.

  “Don’t I wish,” Kat said, doing her best to sound bored. Haley had been intent on making Kat forget about her disastrous relationship with Adam; her roommate had even threatened to set up an online dating profile for her. Haley would be head over heels with the idea of Rye Harmon, even though she’d never met the guy. Trying to seem breezy and dismissive, Kat said, “Just one of the locals. A handyman.”

  But that wasn’t the truth. Not exactly. Rye had driven down from Richmond that morning, to take care of the studio’s plumbing. And he wasn’t just a handyman—he was a contractor. A contractor who was taking her project quite seriously…

  “Mmm,” Haley said. “Does he have any power tools?”

  “Haley!” Kat squawked at the suggestive tone.

  “Fine. If you’re not going to share any intimate details, then I’m going to head out for Master Class.”

  A jolt of longing shot through Kat, and she glared at the paneled wall of the studio office. She had really been looking forward to the six-week Master Class session taught by one of Russia’s most prominent ballerinas. She pushed down her disappointment, though. It didn’t have anything to do with her being trapped here in Virginia. In fact, she would have felt even worse to be out of commission in New York, completely surrounded by an ideal that she couldn’t achieve.

  “I want to hear all about it!” she said, and she almost sounded enthusiastic for her friend.

  “Every word,” Haley vowed. They promised to talk later in the week, and Kat cradled the phone.

  Her conversation with Haley had left her restless, painfully aware of everything she was missing back home. She wanted to dance. Or at least stretch out at the barre.

  But there was other work to complete first. She sighed and sat at the desk, which was still overflowing with coffee-stained papers. Even if Rachel had maintained perfect records, they’d be impossible to locate in this blizzard. Tightening her core muscles, Kat got to work.

  Two hours later, she could see clear physical evidence of her hard labor. Raising her chin, Kat clutched the last pile of sorted papers, tapping the edges against the glass surface of the newly cleaned desk. Pens stood at attention in a plastic cylinder. Paper clips were corralled in a circular dish. A stapler and a tape dispenser toed the line, ready to do service. The entire office smelled of lemon and ammonia—sharp, clean smells that spurred Kat toward accomplishing even more of her goals.

  Next up: the computer. She had to find out if any of the files could be salvaged, if there was any way to access the hard drive and its list of classes, of students.

  She frowned as she glanced at her watch. She could call Amanda and ask for a ride to the tiny computer shop on Main Str
eet. But she was pretty sure Amanda was taking an accounting class over at the community college, taking advantage of her flexible teaching schedule. There was Susan, of course, but Kat wasn’t certain that she could deflect her mother again. Susan would almost definitely insist on coming into the studio, and then she’d discover the water damage, the plumbing problems, the utter chaos that Rachel had left behind.

  Not to mention the bank account. Kat still dreaded stopping by the bank on Water Street, finding out just how short the studio’s account really was.

  She sighed. She’d been cleaning up after her sister for twenty-four years. It never got any easier.

  Well, there was another option for dealing with the computer. There was an able-bodied man working just down the hall. An able-bodied man with a shining silver pickup truck. Firming her resolve, Kat marched down to the bathroom.

  She found Rye in the second stall, wedged into an awkward position between the toilet and the wall. He was shaking his head as she entered, and she was pretty sure that the words he was muttering would not be fit for little Jenny’s ears—or the ears of any Morehouse Dance Academy students, either. He scowled down at the water cutoff with a ferocity that should have shocked the chrome into immediate obedience.

  “Oh!” Kat said in surprise. “I’ll come back later.”

  Rye pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t usually sound like a sailor while I work.”

  “Some jobs require strong language,” Kat said, quoting one of the stagehands at the National. “Seriously, I’ll let you get back to that. It was nothing important. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

  “I’ll always welcome an interruption from you.”

  There was that blush again. Rye could honestly say that he hadn’t been trying to sweet-talk Kat; he had just spoken the truth, the first thing that came to mind.

  That rosy tint on her cheeks, though, made her look like she was a kid. The ice princess ballerina melted away so quickly, leaving behind the girl who had been such an eager dancer, such an enthusiastic artist. He wondered what they had taught her at that fancy high school in New York City. How had they channeled her spirit, cutting off her sense of humor, her spirit of adventure? Because the Kat Morehouse he had known had been quiet, determined, focused. But she had known how to laugh.