“Yes, you do. Remember when we learned that line dance at the father-daughter valentine dinner at school last winter? You were great.”
Great might be pushing it, but hehadbeen decent. However, his surprising ability to pick up those steps had surely been a one-off.
“I think that was a fluke, honey.”
She hugged her doll tighter. “I don’t think so. I think Miss Devyn could teach you the dance you talked about. Why don’t you tell her you’ll do it? We could stay later after a rehearsal again. Gramp and I could watch. Maybe we could learn the steps too.”
Hmm.
That wasn’t a bad idea. And it would put a different spin on the situation.
With all four of them there, any rogue sparks should be controllable. Especially if Gramp and Isabel joined in. Plus, having a few steps in his repertoire could save him a boatload of embarrassment if he did get dragged out to the dance floor at the wedding.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll think about it. How’s that?”
She heaved a theatrical sigh. “It’s better than nothing. If you decide to do it, I could tell Miss Devyn on Thursday, and you could have a lesson on Sunday.”
“I’ll sleep on it.” He bent down and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “Sweet dreams.”
She yawned. “They will be. I’m going to dream about Miss Devyn dancing.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He rose, turned off the bedside lamp, and crossed to the door.
“What are you going to dream about, Dad?”
At Isabel’s sleepy question, he stopped and swiveled back. “I guess I’ll wait and see.”
But if a certain ballerina dominatedhisdreams, one thing was certain.
It wasnotgoing to be a restful night.
21
An in-person meeting with Adam Stone hadn’t been in his plans.
Forking his fingers through his hair, Martin rose from his desk. Wiped his palms down the denim of his jeans.
Strange how his brain had turned to mush when the man called and offered to drop by to discuss lumber for theOklahomasets. Hard as he’d tried to fabricate an excuse to refuse an in-person meeting, nothing had come to mind.
But maybe this was for the best. Hiding behind a phone while he did what he should have done long ago would have been spineless.
He crossed to the window in his office and looked down into the work area.
Everything was running like clockwork, as usual—thanks more to Aaron’s oversight during the past two weeks than to his. It was hard to focus on business when you were worried that the marriage you’d taken for granted had crumbled beyond repair.
His supervisor came into sight on the floor, stopping to confer with an employee by the debarker.
Aaron was a good man. Reliable. Conscientious. Hard-working. He also loved the lumber business, like the Fishers did.
Well, all the Fishers except Lucas.
That’s why the idea beginning to percolate in his mind deserved serious consideration. And once he got past this weekend, he’d give it his full attention.
A knock sounded on his door, and he swung around.
Adam stood on the other side, a folder in hand.
