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 times a week.” She shrugged delicately. “She will have to dance on her own the other days. Unless you hire a private tutor, she must attend academic classes, yes?”

A private tutor? So she could dance the rest of the time. This was so not her world. At least Sam’s house had plenty of bedrooms. One could probably be converted to a practice room.

“I’ll pass the message along to her father.”

“My bill.” The teacher handed her another sheet of paper. “This is for a month’s worth of lessons.”

Francesca glanced down at the total at the bottom and nearly fell over. She could easily live on that amount for two months.

“Anything else?” she asked, trying not to look shocked.

Angelina shook her head and smiled. “The rest is up to Kelly. Soon we will see if she has the backbone and the drive to devote herself to the ballet. She has much talent, but at this stage in her career, success will be about hard work. Oui?”

Kelly was only twelve. Francesca didn’t think anyone should be using the word career in reference to anything she id.

“Thank you so much for your time,” Francesca told her.

Angelina nodded gracefully, then returned to her office. Seconds later Kelly emerged from the dressing room.

“That was something,” Francesca said as she approached. “I’m amazed and impressed. I had no idea a class could be so much work.”

“That wasn’t a regular class. Miss Angelina wanted to see what I could do. Is that the application and stuff?” she asked, pointing at the folder.

“Yes. I’ll give it to your father when we get back to the house. Speaking of which, do you want to head home or go out for lunch? It’s only a little after noon.”

Kelly gave a heavy sigh of the long-suffering. “Lunch would be okay.”

Francesca wanted to tell her not to put herself out, but she held back. As she’d told Sam the previous evening, Kelly was acting up because she was scared. Somewhere under that prickly exterior was a charming young woman waiting to blossom. At least, that was the fantasy.

Thirty minutes later they were seated on a patio table in the shade. Kelly had left her hair up, but had pulled on jeans and a T-shirt over her ballet clothes. Francesca studied the menu and mentally winced at the prices. Twelve-fifty for a salad? If this was lunch, how much would dinner cost?

Not her problem, she reminded herself. That morning Sam had handed over cash, along with phone numbers and instructions to have fun. She’d been uncomfortable taking money from him, but as he’d pointed out, she was taking care of his daughter. That was favor enough without making her pay for anything.

She had agreed, mostly because she didn’t have a choice. Places like this weren’t in her budget.

The waitress arrived. They each ordered a Chinese chicken salad. Kelly asked for a cup of soup to start with while Francesca decided to content herself with the incredible French bread they’d brought.

When the two of them were alone, Francesca looked at Sam’s daughter. The girl watched her carefully, as if not sure what was going to happen. Okay, so the situation was a little strange for both of them. Less than forty-eight hours ago neither had known the other existed. As the adult, Francesca knew it was up to her to make Kelly comfortable.

“You’re an incredible dancer,” she began, buttering a piece of bread. “How long have you been studying ballet?”

“Since I was six. I took a lot of different kinds of dance. Tap, modern, and ballet. Then a couple of years later I decided to focus on ballet.”

Francesca tried to remember focusing on anything but having fun with her sisters when she’d been that age. “Does it hurt to go up on your toes?”

“A little. You get used to it. I’ve been dancing on pointe for over a year. It’s no big deal.”

Francesca doubted that. “It seems like a big deal to me, but then, I’ve never been very coordinated. If I tried any of those moves you were doing, I’d probably take someone’s eye out.”

Kelly started to smile, then pressed her lips together. “Did you ever dance?”

Francesca knew she wasn’t talking about flailing about at school dances. “I was a cheerleader in high school. Does that count?”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “Not even close.”

“I didn’t think so. I can’t even say I was really good at it. I was enthusiastic, but I didn’t have a lot of talent. Some of the other girls had studied gymnastics, and they could do things with their bodies that astounded me. Of course, I never saw the point in being a human pretzel.”

Kelly reached for the bread and took a slice. “Are you divorced?”

The change in topic startled Francesca, but at least they were having a normal conversation. “No. I was married before, but my husband died.”

Kelly’s eyes widened. “For real? Was he old?”

“No. He was twenty-eight. He was killed in a car accident.”

Kelly stared at her. “I’ve never known anyone who died. Is it really spooky having to go to the funeral?”

“I don’t remember much about it.” Todd’s death had been unexpected, and the days that followed had passed in a blur. “I moved back home for a few weeks, and that made a big difference. My whole family was around me. My sisters especially.”

“You have sisters?” Kelly actually sounded interested.

“Three. Katie is a year older. Brenna is my twin, and Mia is nine years younger than me.”

Kelly leaned forward. “You have a twin?”

She nodded. “We’re fraternal, though, so we don’t look that much alike.”