“I truly think this is the fresh start you need.” Grace came around the island to ruffle his hair like she had when he was a kid. “And we’re here. Always.”
2
REESE
Anyone who had ever wrangled a dozen four-year-olds to perform at a Christmas dance recital understood that patience and a good sense of humor were key. Reese Monroe had a good dose of both built into her DNA. Still, Christmas being the happiest time of the year? For Reese, not so much. More like the most hectic. Not that she was complaining. She was as excited about the holidays as any of her little ballerinas. The lights all around town. Carolers singing in city center. Every shop window decorated for the season. Soon, the ice rink would open. There was the tree lighting to look forward to. The annual snowball fight, which always had a good turnout. Time with her best friend, Mauve, on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Since neither had family in town, they always spent the holidays together, in their jammies watching Christmas movies and drinking wine.
It was the first day of December, and Reese was in the middle of a ballet class for three- and four-year-olds when she heard a thumping coming from next door. The buildings were separated by only a foot, but she’d never heard any noise from the twenty-four-hour gym in the three years since she’d opened her dance studio.
Another thump. This time even louder. The sound rolled through the narrow space between the buildings and into the floor beneath her feet. Had the mirrors shivered or was that her imagination? A few of the children froze, eyes wide. Whitney, always dramatic, plopped down onto the floor and curled into the fetal position.
“Nothing to worry about.” Reese clapped once to bring them back. “Let’s try that again. Arms up?—”
Then came a rubbery whump that sounded like something heavy being dropped on concrete. Was there construction out on the street?
She would ignore it for now and investigate after the class finished. Until then, she pressed her lips together and kept smiling. “Toes apart, heels together.”
A sharp metallic clank followed, then a slow, rolling sound, as if something round and very solid was traveling across the floor. How was it possible she could hear it that clearly when it was coming from the building next door?
“Is that thunder?” Cheri asked, clearly happy for an excuse to chatter instead of paying attention.
“No, it’s not thunder.” Reese resisted the urge to sigh. “Just a noise. Arms up.”
“But I can’t,” Susan said. “It’s thumping my head.”
“I wanna go home,” Lizzie said, her bottom lip trembling.
“Let’s put on some Christmas music,” Reese said. “We’ll be sugar plum fairies.”
“Can it beSanta Claus is Comin’ to Town?” Malinda asked.
“That’s not a ballet song,” Cheri said. She tended to be bossy, in addition to talkative.
Reese quickly turned onDance of the Sugar Plum FairyfromThe Nutcracker, hoping to drown out whatever was going on next door. The music barely had time to start before a series of short, uneven bangs jarred her nerves further. Three quickhits, followed by a short silence, then bang bang bang again. Finally, it stopped. Reese was about to get the children lined back up properly when a power tool whined to life, high-pitched and angry.
Reese closed her eyes for half a second. This was ridiculous. Maybe she should just have the children play a game of Duck, Duck, Goose, and call it a day. But no. Their parents paid good money for them to have a ballet lesson.
“All right. Eyes on me. Arms up.”
Another loud boom came, followed by the awful whine of a power tool. Gritting her teeth, Reese turned the music up. It did nothing to help. In fact, it made it worse, like two mismatched songs fighting for dominance. She shut it off, the last of her nerves officially shot, and crossed to the front windows.
The noise was unmistakably coming from the gym. Its front doors were propped open, a couple of windows cracked wide despite the cold. Pale dust drifted out into the air, catching the light before blowing away. Inside, she could make out a broad figure passing in and out of view, flannel sleeves pushed up, a sledgehammer briefly visible before disappearing again.
Whoever that was, it was not Wayne. Had Wayne sold his gym? To someone remodeling the place? How had she not known? Now that she thought about it, Wayne had seemed even more cagey than usual last week when she’d run into him in front of the studio. He was like that. Private and secretive as if he were a Russian spy, when in reality he was the former high school quarterback circa 1965 who never quite adjusted to adulthood.
A crash made them all jump. There was a beat of silence. And then, muffled but unmistakable, a low voice muttered an expletive definitely inappropriate for a room full of small children to hear.
“That was a bad word,” Malinda said, sounding delighted.
Several of the children giggled. Susan ran to a corner of the studio and faced the wall as if she were in time out. Was she punished when other people said bad words? She put that aside to think about later.
Reese exhaled slowly and forced herself to sound merry and bright. “Okay, everyone make a circle. We’re going to play a game.”
“What game?” Susan asked, turning back to the center of the room but staying in the corner.
“Come join us, Susan,” Reese said with more patience than she felt. “We’re going to pretend to be fairies. But when the music stops, you must freeze in place. You can’t move until the music comes back on.”
“That’s called freeze tag,” Cheri said.
