“Chantelle?” Lance repeated.
“I think…” She bit her bottom lip. “Youshould go for it.”
He sighed. “Are you sure? Andrea’s not here,so your opinion is what I’m working with right now.”
Chantelle smiled. “I’m sure.”
Lance faced Adelaide. “I like this theme.You’re hired. Ask me or call the bride for questions. My mother’sopinions won’t count.”
“As you wish, Mr. Taylor.” Adelaide agreed,extending her fair-skinned petite hand.
Lance shook it. “I look forward to workingwith you.” He stood to his feet and faced Chantelle once more.“Ready to go?”
“Sure.” Grabbing her purse, she shookAdelaide’s hand too, and then proceeded ahead of Lance out thedoor. Once in the hallway, she slowed her steps. She pivoted toface him.
“Hungry?” Lance asked. He gazed at his cellas if he were reading a message.
“I—”
“Oh, Mr. Taylor!” Adelaide called out. Thoughin her stilettos, she caught up to them in the hallway. “I forgotto mention that we will hold the ballroom lessons—”
“Ballroom lessons?” Lance’s eyebrowsrose.
“Yes, your mother wanted to make sure—”
“I already mentioned that if you hadquestions to talk to me or my fiancé.” He reminded her. His handsfidgeted as he returned his phone to his jacket pocket.
Adelaide gave a faint smile. “At the requestof your fiancé.”
“It was?” He asked.
“Yes, and your mother confirmed theappointment for this weekend.”
Lance rubbed the back of his head. His mouthtwisted, but he answered. “Okay, thank you.”
Adelaide nodded and strutted back down thehall to her office. Once Chantelle and Lance were alone, shewatched as he leaned against the wall. His grimace showed with aslight shake of his head.
“Lance?” Chantelle said, inching closer.
“You know I’m not great at dancing,” hesaid.
She touched his arm for a moment, but thenbrought her hand down. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure you can do a simplewaltz.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Are youforgetting our prom? I soaked your dress, bumping us into the punchbowl.”
She giggled, recalling the balloon archwaythey had walked through that starry night. Tulle draped everywhereas stringed lights glittered in the room. Spotlights changed colorson the dance floor, and tables carried drinks and refreshments.
How the music had swelled and diminished asthe doors would open and closed. Cologne and perfume had saturatedthe room while the DJ’s amplified voice had filled the background.Chantelle bit her bottom lip to hide her grin. She failed, noticingLance pulling at his collar.
He replied. “Not funny. Do you know howembarrassed I was?”
“I didn’t mind. I was with you.” Did thatslip out? Her eyes widened slightly, but she waited for hisresponse.
His expression softened, making her heartmelt. “I know you didn’t. For a moment I didn’t hear the other kidslaughing. All I saw was you.”
How she wanted to move closer to him butrestrained herself.
Lance cleared his throat. “Anyway, I don’tknow if I can do that. Not in front of friends and family.”
“What if I go with you?” Chantelle bit theinside of her cheek the moment the words escaped her mouth.
“You’d do that?”
She bobbed her head since she couldn’t backout now. “Sure, for moral support. Plus, I can include it in thearticle.”
He held up a finger. “No pictures. You cantalk about it in terms of me preparing, but no pictures.”
“I would never do that to you.” She shoved athis shoulder.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Or wouldn’tyou?”
She inched closer. “Trust me, Mr.Taylor?”
“We’ll see, Ms. Woods.” A grin expanded onhis lips.
Chapter 19
Bouncing on her tiptoes, Chantelle walkedthrough the doors of Delta Heights Press. She heard keysclicking, the rustle of newspapers, and printers printing. Deskswith computers, phones, pads of paper, pens and office supplies,and stacks of papers and files surrounded the space. Walking downthe narrow hall she knew so well as a teen, she made her way to Mr.Perkins’ office. She never missed an opportunity to visit him whenshe passed through Delta Heights.
The summer before her last year in highschool, she recalled working as an intern at his newspaper. She’dplastered sticky notes to her computer, wanting to keep up with hernotes. She would swivel her chair to talk with fellow interns andcoworkers. Lance would visit and take her out to lunch. Sometimesthey would see a late movie before visiting their spot on theabandoned country road.
Her eyebrows gathered in as she continued toMr. Perkins’ office. It was there that her dream of being a writermanifested. He gave her a chance when she was in high school,aspiring for others to read her words. Mr. Perkins made her believein herself. Taking the plunge in college, she received her degreein English—all thanks to Mr. Perkins.
It didn’t hurt either that he was herfather’s best friend. She saw him as another father-figure in herlife. He was the one she came to when her mother announced herplans to remarry. His advice stuck with her.
Knocking on his thick wooden door, shepivoted to face the fellow writers at their desks. His receptionistmust have been on break since her desk was vacant. Once the dooropened, Chantelle beamed at the older white man with thick eyebrowsand amber eyes.
“Chantelle Woods,” he said. His husky frameembraced her as he always did. He escorted her inside his office.“What do I owe the pleasure? You’re visiting your familyagain?”
“Yes, I’m staying with my mother.” Chantellesettled into the leather office chair. Mr. Perkins sat on the otherside of his wooden desk. “How have you been?”
“Still working things around here. How longwill you be in town this time?”
“Until I finish my work.” She folded herhands in her lap. “I wanted to look around.”
“It hasn’t changed since the last time youwere here.”
She touched a hand to her chest, playing withher necklace. “I know, but I love this place.”
Mr. Perkins leaned back in his rolling officechair. “How are things back in the city?”
“Chicago is fine, but it’s great to behome.”
“And… your job at The Wedding Report?”He leaned over and rested his elbows on the desk.
“Great,” she said.
“I said nothing before, but I heard aboutwhat happened at your last job.”
Chantelle relaxed in her chair and crossedher legs. That was the downside of social media. There was nohiding from the public. Hiding under a rock was the best way tostay unnoticed. “I only told
