It’s been a long time since I’ve joked, laughed, and had an easy rapport with a guy. What changed so suddenly between us? I count my heartbeats. It seems to skip one. I press my hand against my chest.
“Everything okay?” he asks as concern filters across his brow.
“Yeah. Fine. Stress. That’s all.”
“What’s on your mind?” he asks as though genuinely interested.
“The future of Blancbourg. It looks like we might have to close soon. We’ve already cut expenses down to a minimum. Yet, Regina needs more money to balance the budget. You’d think with all the money we pour into advertising, we’d have more students and grow.” I shake my head.
Connor taps the air. “Have you ever tried getting the manor on the historic register?”
“It’s generally recognized as a historic site because it was the former royal manor before they built the castle.” I point the toward the castle over my shoulder. “But it’s not official. I guess no one ever bothered to follow through with it. But even if we did, that would protect the building, but it wouldn’t make over thirty thousand dollars appear so the school can continue.”
“No, but I’m guessing there are people here and tourists who’d love to see inside, take a tour, and hear about the history. And don’t forget about your Wolf and puppy calendars.” He winks.
My lips tip with a smile, but my twitching eye distracts me. “But it’s a school, not a tourist site.”
“True, and it could remain a school. Even with just the four of us on the premises, there are loads of unused spaces. I bet Arthur would give great tours. Just saying.”
“That is an interesting idea.” I want to linger on the way Connor makes my pulse race and how I’m slightly out of breath. It’s the stress of spending late-night hours reviewing accounts and not being able to trace where all the funding is going. “Something is off, but I’m not sure what.”
“I could help you get it sorted out.”
“You mean you’d like to do something helpful to contribute?” I tease lightly, referencing our earlier conversation and this time bumping him with my elbow.
“Hey, you can’t deny that I’m a giver.” He arches an eyebrow.
I don’t argue because he’s right and we’re finally getting along. “I think you have a great idea,” I say at last. “Must be the pretzels. Hildie had her sampler idea, I had the idea for the workout, and you might just help me save the school. Well, the building at least. It’s a great piece of property. I’d hate to see it fall into ruin or be demolished. The upkeep is time-consuming and costly.”
“We’ll go tomorrow to find out about the process.” Enthusiasm laces Connor’s voice.
We reach the top of the hill with a lane lined with two-story buildings. I lead Connor to the second floor of a broad, Bavarian-style one with dark wood timbers and cream-colored paint.
The faint sound of music sounds from behind one of the doors. I push it open and say, “Welcome to your workout.”
Ten little girls wearing pink tutus tiptoe across the wooden floor behind an older woman with a shock of white hair. She wears all black and has her hair tied in a bun like mine.
Connor goes still, a hulking giant compared to all the cute kids, and his jaw drops.
20
CONNOR
Aline of little kids stands in front of a wall of mirrors, finishing their ballet lessons. They stare and blink, their expressions shot with confusion as if they’re unsure whether I’m a friend or a foe.
I feel like a troll, a beast, among adorable little fairy sprites, mostly dressed in pink.
Cat wears a triumphant smile. “We will call a truce when Madam Tissot is done with you.”
I force myself not to laugh because this is absurd. “You want me to do ballet?”
“Yes, why not? It’ll be good for you. Your coach will approve. Promise.”
“You haven’t met Hammer. His last name is fitting. He hammers us with his workouts.”
“Just take one of your selfies when you’re done and he’ll have the rest of the team over here tomorrow.”
I want to protest, to refuse, and to tell Cateline this is ridiculous, but I’ve never backed down from a challenge. Rubbing my hands together, I say, “Okay, let’s do this.”
