Ready, girls? Glissade, arabesque, pas de chat.” Jane nodded as the last of the girls crossed the room, managing not to wince as a few of her less graceful students nearly shook the walls upon coming down from what should have been a small, delicate jump. “Very nice, girls. Now, for next class, let’s work on quiet feet. Quiet as a mouse.” She held a finger to her lips and demonstrated a soft, silent landing.
The girls stood in a row, nodding enthusiastically, and then thundered out of the room. Jane sighed. She did her best, and the girls had fun. She supposed that was the most she could expect from a group of seven-year-olds.
“Any rising stars?” Rosemary asked, sailing into the room with her dance skirt swishing at her bare ankles. The opposite of the majority of their students, she moved so lightly that Jane often jumped when she realized her boss had entered the room.
“Maybe in Wednesday’s class,” Jane mused.
“About that, Jane, I still feel bad about our conversation last week. I want to believe enrollment will pick up for the next session, but…” She lifted her palms. “There’s no guarantee. Enrollment has steadily declined over the past few years. Maybe girls don’t like to dance anymore.”
“Grace mentioned that Luke commented on the amount of homework going around.”
Rosemary folded her arms and assessed Jane over the slope of her nose. “Did she now? Well, I might have to have a talk with my son, then! Children need balanced lives. Have you noticed this with Sophie?”
“She’s in kindergarten,” Jane replied. When Rosemary’s eyes simply widened further, Jane explained, “She doesn’t get homework.”
Rosemary seemed disappointed at this. “Our five-and six-year-old classes have the lowest enrollment since I opened the studio twenty years ago. There must be another reason for it, then.”
“There’s that new gymnastics facility in Forest Ridge,” Jane said with a shrug. “And I know Sophie’s been talking about ice skating lessons.” Not that she could afford that right now, even with child support.
She fought through the guilt. Sophie was a happy little girl, amazingly so given all the changes that had happened in the last year. Jane’s stomach twisted when she thought of how many more were ahead. Before long, Sophie was going to have a little sister or brother, an entire new family that Jane wouldn’t be a part of. For years she had longed to give Sophie a sibling. As much as part of her was happy Sophie would have this new person in her life, the other part of her ached that she couldn’t be the one to offer it.
“Are you going to the Harvest Fest this weekend?” Rosemary asked as Jane shrugged on her coat. Already the air was crisp, and there was talk of a potential snowfall next week. Normally Jane liked this time of year best, but snow made her think of the holidays, and this year, the holidays would be different.
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. It was one thing to be divided from the person you’d vowed to love for the rest of your life, but to have your child taken from you half the time? That was the worst of it.
“We love the Harvest Fest!” Sophie exclaimed excitedly. “Mommy and I are entering the punkin’ carving contest this year. I draw the face and Mommy carves. And you know what they have there?” She cupped one hand to the side of her cheek and leaned in close to Rosemary. “Caramel apples!” She practically sang the words, and even Jane had to laugh. Cheap thrills, she always said. She was happy such simple things still brought her daughter such joy.
She could learn from that.
“I was thinking I might set up a stand this year,” Rosemary said. “It might draw some attention and remind people about the classes we offer. I’ll hand out fliers for the Nutcracker auditions, too.”
“Good idea,” Jane said. “Maybe we should display some of the costumes from last year’s show. Most kids are enticed by a sparkly tutu.”
“We can certainly try. It the meantime, I’m still coming to terms with renting out the space to those artists. The income would certainly help bridge the gap for now, but when I think of the mess they might make. Paint, Jane! That stains, you know.” She shuddered.
Jane was well aware. She still had one of Sophie’s murals on her laundry room wall to prove it. She’d been furious when it had happened, but now, three years later, she couldn’t bring herself to paint over it. It was just another memory that made her house a home.
“I was wondering… What will we do about The Nutcracker if the cast is small?” It was Rosemary’s big event, bigger than even the Spring Gala, which was held every year on a makeshift stage in the center of the town square. While Jane’s mother defined the holidays through the annual Holiday House decorating contest, The Nutcracker was Rosemary’s pride and joy and, for most of Briar Creek, a family tradition. Held on the twenty-third of December each year, Jane could still remember bundling into the backseat with her sisters, the radiator heat on high, watching the lights twinkle through the foggy windows as the family drove through the snow-covered town. Her dad couldn’t have enjoyed it as much as his wife and three daughters did, but he always encouraged Jane with her dancing, and he never would have admitted to being bored.
Jane smiled softly. She’d like to think her dad was looking down on her, happy to see that she’d followed her love for ballet in the end.
“The Nutcracker is important to people in this town,” Jane insisted. “They’ll be as let down as we would be if we can’t pull it together.”
“I can’t think about that just yet,” Rosemary said quietly.
“Well.” Jane tied her scarf around her neck and took Sophie’s hand. “One bridge at a time, as they say.” It was how she’d lived her life for the past eighteen months, since her father died and then her marriage crumbled. One day at a time.
She managed to smile until they were out of the building, but she was all but grinding her teeth when they got to the car. Jane had left it parked in front of Main Street Books, and for once, the thought of going home and slipping into flannel pajamas felt like anything but an escape.
“Hey, how about we go to Hastings for dinner tonight?” she suggested.
Sophie started jumping up and down. “Can I have a milkshake?”
Jane laughed. “How about we split one?” Drowning herself in ice cream felt like just the solution right now.
They walked up Main Street and pushed through the door of the old establishment across from the town square. There were a few customers at the counter chatting with Sharon Hastings, but other than that, the diner was empty. Jane slid into a red-vinyl booth near the window. She leaned across the Formica table to help Sophie with her coat, but her daughter swatted her away.
“I can do it myself,” Sophie insisted, yanking at the fabric.
Jane sat back, smiling even though her heart began to tug as Sophie fumbled with the buttons, her brow pinched in deep concentration. Her little girl was growing up. Already it was becoming an effort to pick her up, but more and more, Jane wanted to. She wanted to hold her, rock her to sleep, breathe into that sweet-smelling hair. Soon, that phase would be over. No more little ones to hold, no more lullabies to sing.
Oh, she knew what Grace and Anna would say—that Jane had only just turned twenty-six and that her entire life was ahead of her. She wished she could share in her sisters’ optimism, but a string of bad dates last spring had made her feel hopeless. She hadn’t even found herself attracted to another man until this past week—Her stomach tightened at the image of Henry.
Nonsense. He was just passing through town. And he wasn’t marriage material.
She placed their order, deciding at the last second to splurge and order two shakes, and then settled into the booth. A few minutes later, Ivy came through the door. Jane waved and called her over.
“I don’t see you in here often,” Ivy said with a look of surprise. She sat down next to Sophie and loosened the zipper of her down coat. “I probably come here more than I should. Bad habit.”
“It’s convenient,” Jane commented. Petals on Main was just a few blocks down the road, and Hastings was the closest thing to fast food in Briar Creek now, especially as Anna had turned Fireside Café into Rosemary and Thyme, an upscale full-service restaurant.
“Still, it’s probably not the healthiest choice. I just hate cooking for one.”
Jane gave a wry smile. “I find that whatever I make lasts half the week, and by then, I’m sick of eating it.” She’d gotten into the routine of cooking while she was married to Adam, so much so that she hadn’t even thought of giving herself a break and coming here before. It felt illicit and oddly special. Running into Ivy was an extra perk. She decided to make a point of trying it more often.
Ivy ordered a house salad and sipped her water. “I’m meeting my brother tonight to go through my mom’s house.” She grimaced. “I think I’ll need my strength to keep up. That place needs a lot of work. More than he knows.”
“Then you should have ordered something heavier.”
Ivy looked out the window. “Oh, you know me. I’m always watching my carbs.”
“Do you want some of my milkshake?” Sophie inquired, shifting her straw in Ivy’s direction.
“No thanks, honey. It’s all yours.”
“That’s nice of you to offer, though,” Jane said to her daughter. She glanced at Ivy. “We’re still working on sharing. I knew if she and I split a shake, I’d get one sip, and I’d be warned about how big it was.”
The women laughed. “I don’t remember going through any of that with Henry, but we must have.”
“You two always seemed tight,” Jane commented, thinking the same could probably be said for herself, Grace, and Anna. They’d had their bumps along the way, particularly Anna and Grace, being older and more strong willed, but for the most part, they relied on each other for everything. Even when they didn’t always tell each other everything.
Jane took a long sip of her milkshake. She’d have to tell her mother and Anna about Adam’s plans soon. The way news traveled in Briar Creek, they’d find out from someone else before long.
“Henry and I needed each other growing up.” Ivy folded her straw wrapper into an accordion. “It was just the two of us most of the time.”
Jane gave a sad smile. “How are you holding up?” she asked carefully, glancing at Ivy for a reaction.
“I’m really okay,” Ivy said, and something in her tone made Jane know she meant it. Jane wished she could say the same for how she felt about her father’s death, but she still felt his absence every single day. “It helps to have Henry here.”
“I’ve talked to him a bit,” Jane offered. She glanced over at Ivy, wondering why she was even bringing this up. Why her stomach suddenly felt like it had a dozen butterflies hopping around in it. It was just Henry after all. “He was wrapping up his deadline at the bookstore. I told him he should write about Briar Creek next.”
Ivy just shook her head as a waitress brought over their plates and set them down. “He likes to travel to places he’s never been before. I can’t see him wanting to write about Briar Creek. Though it would be sort of neat, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. It just seemed like a good idea. Briar Creek’s come a long way recently. I doubt it’s much of a tourist destination, though.”
“There’s the ski resort just down the road,” Ivy countered. “And some people like small towns for romantic weekend getaways. Not that I would know.”
Jane slipped her a knowing smile. “Still no luck in the love life department?”
“What love life?” Ivy groaned. She speared a tomato wedge with sudden force. “I haven’t been on a date in… over a year. Oh my God, I didn’t even realize that until now. The last date I went on was with Sam Logan. I remember because we got to talking at the Fourth of July picnic last year and shared a beer at the pub that night.” She paused, then made a face. “That’s not even a date, is it?”
Jane tried not to laugh. “It sounds better than my recent experiences.”
Ivy tipped her head. “One of your dates was nice, right? The nurse?”
The girls locked eyes and started to giggle. “He was very nice,” Jane said when she’d composed herself. “Very, very nice. But…”
“No spark?” Ivy sighed. “I know the feeling. Once you feel the spark, it’s hard not to hold out for it.”
Jane peered at her, suddenly wondering just how much Ivy was holding back. “Anyone in particular?”
Ivy took great care in shuffling the lettuce on her plate. “No… not really. Just…” She looked up at Jane, her eyes pleading. “You know when you have a connection with someone, don’t you? Like, you feel it. You get nervous when they walk in a room, you get excited at the thought of seeing them again, and you miss them even when they’ve only been gone for like five minutes. Everything they say is somehow fascinating, and everyone else just becomes boring in comparison. And when you talk, it just… clicks. It just feels right.”
Jane was nodding, but her cheeks were starting to burn. She knew all right. She experienced every single one of those emotions and then some every time Henry came near. Ivy’s own brother! If her friend had any idea… Well, she just wouldn’t. Besides, she’d probably be the first one to tell Jane that Henry wasn’t the man for her. And he wasn’t, Jane knew that, even if her heart didn’t. Henry was warm and funny, and he had that way of holding her eyes until she was forced to look away, even though she didn’t want to. It was easy with Henry. He seemed to get her in a way that few others did. It felt natural. It felt comfortable. It felt—
Wrong. It was all very, very, very wrong. She needed a reliable man. And what was reliable about a man who traveled for a living and never wanted to marry again? “I’m not sure I can trust my own judgment,” Jane admitted. After all, she’d thought Adam was her mate for life, and he’d been sleeping with another woman. What a fool she’d been.
“I know Adam hurt you, and I know he was your husband, but I don’t think he was the right guy for you.”
Jane snorted. “You don’t need to tell me.” She glanced at Sophie, who was happily coloring on a paper placemat and sipping her shake, oblivious to the conversation. “I know it’s for the best, deep down. It’s not about the breakup, really. It’s more about… being disillusioned. I can’t help but feel like my entire life was snatched out from under me sometimes.”
“If you had to describe your ideal mate, what would he be like?” Ivy grinned.
Jane couldn’t match her enthusiasm. “I just want someone I can count on, without question.”
“But what other traits?” Ivy pressed.
Jane felt her heart begin to race with sudden frustration. She just wanted a guy who loved her, and who she loved back. She wanted someone to laugh with, someone to come home to, someone who was there on the good days and the bad, and someone whose mere presence was a source of comfort, not concern. She wanted someone to make her feel special, someone to make her feel cherished, not taken for granted.
She wanted the impossible. Maybe Grace and Anna and a few others had found their happy ending, but she’d had hers once before, and it didn’t meet the same fate. Somewhere along the line, it all fell apart instead.
“What about you?” Jane asked, deflecting the attention. “Describe your ideal man.”
Ivy’s expression turned dreamy. “Oh, I suppose he’d be tall, with dark hair and deep-set eyes. He’d be smart, a doctor probably. Or, you know, maybe a lawyer,” she added quickly. “And he’d have a killer smile and a special way to make me laugh. He’d be serious, but not uptight. And he’d be family oriented.”
Tall, dark, and handsome… and a doctor. Sounded like she was describing Mark Hastings’s brother, Brett.
Jane was just about to point this out when Ivy’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen. “Henry,” she explained, pressing it to her ear.
Oh, there was that pulse-racing, stomach-knotting, quiver-down-the-spine feeling again. Jane tucked her hair behind her ears and sat up a little straighter, just in case he was about to drop in.
Nonsense. So what if he did? She might enjoy his company for a few minutes; there was hardly any harm in that.
Ivy muttered a few one-syllable words into the phone and set it back on the table. “I should head out,” she said, flagging the waitress. “It’s time to face the old homestead.”
“Hopefully it sells quickly,” Jane said, hating the disappointment she felt. She told herself it couldn’t be because Henry wasn’t joining them, but rather that a nice, warm chat with a good friend was coming to an end.
“Jeez, I hope so.” Ivy zippered her coat and set a ten-dollar bill on the table. “See you later.”
Jane waved goodbye and turned to Sophie. “Finish your dinner, honey. Then we’ll go home.”
She sank back into her seat and finished the rest of her shake. As much as she loved sharing a dinner with her daughter, it wasn’t quite the same as adult conversation. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, to share the events of the day. She scrolled through her phone, seeing if one of her sisters had reached out recently, and frowned at the missed call on her display. Her attorney.
With a shaking hand, she dialed the number, willing herself to stay calm.
It answered on the first ring. “Ah, Jane. I’m glad you called.”
“Rob? Is everything okay?” She took a calming breath, but her heart was pounding out of her chest.
She ran through a list of potential scenarios, reasons for his call. Maybe she’d forgotten to pay his last bill. But no… she was sure she had. Maybe there was another bill, another set of fees. Her gut tightened. Like she could afford to shell out another dime right now.
“Would you be available to stop by my office tomorrow morning?”
Jane felt the blood drain from her face. “What’s going on?”
There was a slight pause at the other end of the line. “It’s probably best for us to discuss this in person.”
Uh-uh. No way. She’d never sleep tonight.
She pushed her plate away. There was no way she could eat now.
“Rob, what is it?”
Her breath came in spurts as she clutched the phone tighter, waiting for the blow. What now? What more could Adam possibly take from her?
“It’s about Sophie,” her lawyer said gently. “Adam’s relocating out of state, and he’s petitioned for Sophie to go with him.”