“Does she have access to a computer?”
“Yes. In the other guest room.”
“Then she could go buy the player herself. She’s good at that.”
He grinned. “Not anymore. I’ve canceled her credit card.”
“How?”
“I contacted the law firm handling my mother’s estate. Tanya had already told them that I had custody of Kelly. The lawyer I spoke with said I was entitled to the same monetary provisions Tanya had-Kelly’s expenses covered plus five thousand a month.” He shook his head. “I told them that wasn’t necessary.”
“She’s going to be crabby when she finds out she can’t shop at will.”
He chuckled. “I know. I figured I’d let her find out for herself.” His humor faded. “The lawyer told me something else. When Kelly was born, my mother had the paternity checked. The kid is mine.”
Francesca was afraid to ask if that was good or bad. “At least you know.”
“There wasn’t a whole lot of doubt, but yeah, I know.” He shrugged. “I got in touch with that ballet teacher, too. Angelina something. She’s willing to see Kelly tomorrow. Apparently there’s an audition process to get into this class. It must be a big deal. She has an appointment at eleven.”
“Want me to take her?”
Sam looked at her. “You have your own life and it doesn’t include Teen-zilla.”
Francesca smiled. “Agreed, but I was serious when I said I would help. Hey, I spent the morning organizing my closet just to avoid working on my outline. Driving Kelly to her ballet audition would be a far better displacement activity. I could come here first thing and you could go to work.”
He looked as hopeful as a drowning man spotting a rescue boat. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll be sure to return the favor.” He brought her hand to his mouth and lightly kissed her knuckles.
The brush of his lips against her skin sent heat racing through her body, but before she could do something wild like throw herself at him and beg to be taken, he lowered his arm back to the table between their chairs.
Oh, well. Maybe next time.
“I have this theory about Kelly,” she said. “I was thinking about her while cleaning out my closet. I think she’s in a lot of emotional pain.”
Sam looked at her. “From her mother dumping her on me?”
“It’s more than that. The way Kelly talks about her life in New York, she was completely on her own. Even if you factor out a child’s inclination to exaggerate, it’s still pretty awful. You mentioned that Tanya was seeing someone she wanted to marry who never knew about Kelly. Combine those elements and you have a child who feels unloved and unwelcome. In her mind she could be thinking she’s so horrible, she has to be kept a secret. Then her mother abandons her, and she meets a father she never knew about. Kelly has to be terrified, lonely, and really hurting.”
He considered the information. “You think that’s why she’s being so difficult? She’s lashing out like a wounded animal?”
“Exactly. With some time and positive attention, she’ll be a completely different person.”
“What if that person is worse?”
Francesca chuckled. “She won’t be.”
“You can’t know that for sure.” He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “I went online, looking for some parenting books. There are a bunch on raising teens, and the descriptions scared the hell out of me. I want to back up and get her younger. Or when she’s eighteen. Plus none of them had any practical information on things like what to feed her and how much sleep she needs.”
Francesca did her best to ignore the tingling brought on by his light stroking and instead pay attention to the conversation. “She’s not a llama. She doesn’t have a special diet. Offer her healthy food and let her pick what she wants. As for sleep, by the end of summer you will know how much she needs so she’s alert for school.”
“Healthy food? I was going to order in Chinese tonight.”
“That’s fine once in a while. You don’t have to dine on tofu every night.”
“I’m not dining on tofu ever.”
“Still a steak guy?”
He turned toward her. “I’m a man of simple tastes. I know what I like and I go after it.”
She melted. Right there on the chair. Sam leaned forward and kissed her. Just as she parted her mouth, a door slammed in the house. Sam swore.
She considered the single word, then sighed. “Maybe next time.”
8
“And one, and two, and three, and now!”
Kelly moved in time with the music. She swept her arms up in the air, then bent low at the waist, turning slightly. Her young face was the picture of concentration. Despite the plain black tights and leotards, with her hair pulled back and her skin bare of makeup, she reminded Francesca of a butterfly in a flower garden, flitting with grace and delight on a perfect summer day.
As she had learned in the past hour, the reality of ballet was far more about hard work than flitting, but the end result was just as beautiful. As the music swelled slightly, Kelly rose on her toes and began to turn slowly. Her little skirt swayed with the movement.
Francesca knew she should be working on organizing her paper, or reading the research book she’d brought with her, but she’d been unable to tear her attention away from Kelly’s dance audition. What she knew about ballet and classical music wouldn’t fill a thimble. She’d seen The Nutcracker a couple of times, but other than that her cultural education had been limited to the occasional trip to the opera.
Sitting at the edge of the practice room, she could see firsthand how difficult the moves were. The first half hour had been devoted to specific moves done at slow speed. But the lack of speed didn’t make it easy. Parts of different dances had filled the second half hour. The instructor had called out the name of a ballet and some other instructions in French, then Kelly had performed.
Francesca watched her. The slender preteen moved with a grace that made Francesca envious. With her hair pulled back, she looked older than twelve. Her eyes seemed more green than they had the night before. She was already pretty-becoming beautiful was only a few years away. Sam was going to have plenty of trouble when the boys started to come calling.
The instructor-Miss Angelina-spoke in rapid French. Francesca had taken a couple of years of Spanish in high school and knew a smattering of Italian from her father’s family. For all she knew, Miss Angelina was telling Kelly to get ready to rob a convenience store. But instead of reaching for weapons, Kelly curtsied.
Miss Angelina nodded and left the room. Kelly stared after her.
In that moment, longing tightened the girl’s features. She looked alone, vulnerable, and very young.
Francesca stood. “What happened?” she asked.
Kelly shrugged. “I’m in. No biggie. You saw those other girls when we got here. Some of them are good, but the rest…” She shrugged and started toward the dressing room.
Francesca wanted to follow her and shake her. Being accepted into the dance class was a big deal. Why couldn’t Kelly be excited? Why didn’t she jump around like a normal kid? Or had life taught her not to show emotions because they could be used against her?
“I have Kelly’s application papers here,” the instructor said as she walked back into the studio. Her voice was lilting, and tinged with a French accent. “She will join my upper-intermediate class. If she works hard, she’ll be with the advanced students within a year.”
Angelina’s eyes narrowed. “You are her mother?” She sounded doubtful.
“No. A friend of the family.”
Angelina looked her over. Francesca fought against the sudden need to stand straighter and square her shoulders.
“She will need a practice room. Class is five days a week in the summer, but when school begins it is only three
