A Fool's Gold Christmas Read online

  “Impressive,” he told her. “Mocking me and my dates at the same time.”

  “I was gently teasing. There’s a difference.”

  “You’re right.” He studied her over his wineglass. “What about you? No fancy Mr. King of the Dance coming to rescue you from the backwater that is Fool’s Gold?”

  “I’m between kings right now. And, at the risk of sounding like Jane Austen, content to be so. Miss Monica is welcome to her gentleman friend. I’m more focused on the upcoming performance.” Not to mention avoiding her family as much as possible.

  “Did you see all the Thanksgiving decorations around town?” he asked.

  “The turkey population is well represented.”

  “Christmas is going to be worse,” he grumbled.

  “Candy canes on every mailbox.”

  “Wreaths on every door.” He looked at her. “It’s going to be like living in a snow globe.”

  “Tell me about it.” She sipped her wine. “Do you know this town doesn’t have a grocery store that stays open twenty-four hours a day? What’s up with that? What if someone needs something at two in the morning?”

  “Like aspirin after listening to clog dancers for an hour?”

  “You’ll adore them when you see them perform.”

  “Maybe.” He frowned. “Hey, why aren’t you a big fan of Christmas? With your family, I would think loving the season would be a given. I’ll bet your mom made Christmas special for you.”

  Evie put down her wine and pressed a hand to her stomach. Sudden churning made her uncomfortable.

  No doubt Dante saw May as a warm, caring parent. The kind of woman who would bake cookies and sew Christmas stockings. Maybe she had once—Evie’s brothers each had a carefully embroidered stocking. But Evie’s was store-bought and not personalized. There hadn’t been many traditions for her. She’d always found Christmas kind of lonely and wasn’t looking forward to an entire town showing her all the ways she didn’t fit in.

  “I suppose I’ve gotten out of the habit of the holidays,” she said, hedging. She barely knew Dante. There was no reason to go into the gory details of her past with the man.

  “Then we’ll have to stay strong together,” he told her. “There’s only the two of us against all of them.”

  She laughed. “Grinches together?”

  “Absolutely.” He pointed at her nearly untouched plate. “Okay, you’re either going to have to eat more or explain to the chef why you didn’t like his very excellent lasagna.”

  “I wouldn’t want that.”

  An hour later, they’d finished most of the wine. Dante had explained more about the Shanghai project and she’d told funny stories about her days touring with a third-rate ballet company. He insisted on packing up the leftovers for her to take home and then escorted her across their shared driveway and to her front door. Once there, he waited until she’d put her key in the lock and pushed open the door.

  “If you need anything, pound on the wall,” he told her. “Ah, the one between us. If you pound on the other one, you’ll confuse the neighbors and get a bad reputation in the development.”

  “I wouldn’t want that.” She held up the bag of food. “Thanks for this.”

  “You’re skinny. Eat more.” With that, he bent down and lightly kissed her cheek. “’Night, Evie.”

  “’Night.”

  She watched him walk back to his place and step inside. Then she stepped into her house and shut the door. She stood in the dark for a second, the feel of his kiss lingering on her cheek.

  She’d had fun tonight. Talking, sharing a meal with a friend. Dante was easy to talk to. Charming. He was the kind of man who made a woman think about more than kissing. Even someone who knew how dangerous that could be.

  “My brother’s business partner and a player,” she said as she turned on the light in the entryway. There were a thousand reasons not to play the what-if game with Dante Jefferson. She was smart enough to remember every one of them.

  * * *

  “YOU KNOW THIS ISN’T normal, right,” Dante said as he stood on the porch of the house and stared out at the elephant. “Ranches are supposed to have things like horses and goats. What were you thinking?”

  Rafe shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”

  Dante continued to study the elephant. “What is she wearing?”

  “A blanket. It gets cold here. She goes into a heated barn at night, but she likes to be out during the day. Mom had the blanket made for her.”

  Dante thought longingly of his life back in San Francisco. Season tickets to the Giants and the 49ers. Poker nights with his buddies. Dinners with beautiful women. Okay, sure, he’d had a beautiful woman at his place last night, but that was different. She was his partner’s sister. The price of getting lucky could be the loss of a very treasured body part. Although he would have to admit watching Evie move was almost worth it. He supposed it was years of dance training, but she made even the act of picking up a fork look graceful.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Rafe said.

  Dante doubted that.

  “I changed my life for Heidi,” Rafe continued. “It’s worth it. And I want to be here on the ranch. I like Fool’s Gold.”

  “I figured as much when you moved the business here.”

  “Come on.” Rafe turned toward the house. “Let’s go inside. We’ll have brownies while you tell me about what’s going on in Shanghai.”

  They settled at the kitchen table. The company’s rented office space didn’t have any private offices, which meant any sensitive business had to be discussed elsewhere.

  Over the next couple of hours, they reviewed several ongoing projects, and Dante brought Rafe up to date on a few legal matters. When they were finished, Rafe poured them each more coffee.

  “You staying in Fool’s Gold for Thanksgiving?” he asked.

  Dante shrugged. “Probably.”

  “Come to dinner, then. I wasn’t going to get between you and your latest conquest, but if you’re flying solo, we’d love to have you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll bring wine.”

  “Not a salad or dessert?” Rafe joked.

  “Maybe next year.” He collected the folders he’d brought. “Evie’s pretty panicked about the Christmas Eve dance show.”

  Rafe frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “The show. The Dance of the Winter King. The manager of the dance studio took off and left everything to her.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  The statement confirmed what Evie had hinted at the previous night. That she and her family didn’t have much to do with each other.

  “You and your brothers have always been close,” Dante said. “But you barely mention Evie. We’d been in business about three years before I even knew you had a sister. What’s up with that?”

  Rafe shrugged. “After my dad died, things were tough. My mom was devastated, money was tight. I tried to handle the family, but I was a kid.”

  Eight or nine, Dante thought, remembering what his friend had told him over the years. He knew what it was like to look out for a parent. He’d done the same with his mom. It had always been the two of them against the world. Until Dante had joined a gang. His actions had broken her heart and ultimately cost her everything.

  What he would give to go back and change that, he thought grimly. To have his family back. But he’d learned about the perils of close ties.

  “Mom was crying all the time,” Rafe continued. “We knew she was sad. Shane met this cowboy in town for one of the festivals and brought him home for dinner. Nine months later, Evie showed up.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. She’s technically our half sister. The four of us were a unit and Evie never seemed to find her place. I should have tried harder with her. I’m trying now. I don’t know that it’s enough.” He stared at Dante. “You live close to her, don’t you?”

  “Next door.” Dante braced himself for the next line. Wh
ere Rafe said to stay away from his sister.

  “So do me a favor. Look out for her. Make sure she’s okay.”

  That was it? No dire warning? Rafe knew Dante’s reputation with women. It’s not that Dante was a bad guy—he simply didn’t believe in long-term commitments. Four months was a personal best in his world.

  “Sure thing,” he said easily. “I’m happy to help.”

  “Good. She’d tell me that it’s too little, too late, but as far as I’m concerned, having Evie in town is a second chance for all of us.”

  Chapter Three

  Evie stared at the battered ledger that served as a scheduling calendar. While Miss Monica had been a pleasant enough person and a good teacher, she hadn’t believed in any invention that surfaced after 1960. The Smithsonian had been calling to ask if their old computer could be put on display in the history of technology section and the answering machine had to be from the 1980s. The worn tape had contained a single message that morning. Dominique Guérin, the new owner, had returned Evie’s call. Her response to Evie’s slightly panicked info dump about the loss of the head instructor and the upcoming ballet, about which Evie knew nothing, had been a cheerful “I have every confidence in you, my dear. I can’t wait to see the production on Christmas Eve.”

  “Great,” Evie said, clutching her mug of tea in her hands and willing her heart to stop beating at hummingbird speed. She felt as if she were trapped in some old black-and-white movie. “Come on, boys and girls. Let’s put on a show!”

  Only there was no production staff waiting in the shadows to work the cinematic magic. There was her, a battered ledger and sheer force of will. Oh, and sixty students she wasn’t willing to disappoint.

  She picked up her purse and crossed to the small mirror on the wall. After brushing her hair, she separated it into two sections and braided each one. She expertly wrapped the braids around her head and pinned them in place, then returned her purse to the desk drawer. Now she was ready to dance.

  She heard footsteps on the stairs leading up to the studio. A few seconds later, a smiling woman with brown hair hurried into the reception area. Evie recognized her as one of the mothers but had no idea of her name.

  “I’m running late,” she proclaimed, handing Evie three CDs in cases. “Here’s what you need. I hope. I mean I know it’s what you wanted, I just hope they help.”

  The woman was in her late twenties, pretty, wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt with a large embroidered cartoon turkey on the front.

  The woman laughed. “You look blank. I’m Patience McGraw. Lillie’s mother.”

  “Oh. Lillie. Sure.” Sweet girl with absolutely no talent, Evie thought. But she loved dancing and worked hard. Sometimes that was more important than ability.

  “Charlie called me,” Patience continued. “OMG, to quote my daughter. Miss Monica ran off with a man? I haven’t been on a date in maybe three years, but my daughter’s seventy-year-old dance teacher gets lucky? I can’t decide if I should be depressed or inspired.”

  “I’m both,” Evie admitted. “Slightly more depressed, though.”

  “Tell me about it.” Patience gave a rueful laugh. “Anyway, Charlie explained that you’re feeling completely abandoned and pressured. I can’t help with the dance stuff. Lillie inherited her lack of coordination from me, I’m afraid. But I’m good at getting things done. So those are recordings of previous years’ shows. One is mine. The other two come from other mothers. They’re also for different years. I thought that might help.”

  Evie tightened her hold on the CDs. Right now, these were her best shot at figuring out what the program was supposed to look like.

  “Thank you. You’ve saved me.”

  Patience laughed. “I’m barely getting started.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her jeans’s front pocket. “My phone number. I’ll help get the work party together for the sets. Charlie mentioned those, too. So, a Saturday would work best. I suggest the first Saturday in December. All that’s going on in town is the tree lighting and that’s not until dusk. We’d have all day to spruce and paint and do whatever needs doing.”

  Evie took the paper with her free hand. In addition to Patience’s phone number was a man’s name.

  “This guy is your contact at the hardware store in town. Tell him who you are and what you need the supplies for. He’ll give you a great discount. Once you get that coordinated, get back to me and I’ll spread the word about the work party. Oh, we’ll also need to coordinate for the costumes.”

  Evie felt as if she were being pushed by an out-of-control tide. “You sew?”

  “Enough to repair a costume. But I have the names of the talented ladies who do the real work. Plus, we need to schedule the fittings and then the run-through for hair and makeup.” She drew in a breath and planted her hands on her hips. “Drat. There’s one more thing that I can’t… Brunch!” She grinned. “Thanksgiving morning we all meet at Jo’s Bar. We have yummy brunch food, enough champagne so that we don’t care about the turkey we’re cooking and we watch the parade on TV. Girls only. You have to come. It’s really fun. After we’re stuffed and drunk, we head outside to watch the Fool’s Gold parade through town.”

  “Okay,” Evie said slowly, still overwhelmed by names, promises and information.

  “Be there at nine.” Patience pulled her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. “I’m running late. Nothing new, right? I have to get back to work. Call me with any questions.” She started for the door. “And pick a date for the work party. We need to claim our labor.”

  Evie stood in the center of her studio. She was holding three CD cases and a small piece of paper, but she would swear she’d been buried under a giant mound of boxes or something. She tucked the CD cases into her purse. Tonight she would watch the recordings and start to make notes. As for the rest of it, she would have to sort through all she’d learned and make up some kind of schedule. She still wasn’t convinced about the work party, but maybe a few parents would be willing to help.

  She walked into the main studio and settled in front of the barre. A half hour or so of practice would settle her mind for the lessons to come. Slowly, carefully, conscious of her still-healing leg, she began to warm up. Two minutes later, her cell phone rang.

  She straightened, slid her right foot back to the floor and walked over to where the phone sat on the reception desk.

  The calling number was unfamiliar.

  “Hello?”

  “Evie? Hi, it’s Heidi.”

  Heidi was Rafe’s new wife. She lived on the ranch and raised goats. A pretty blonde who had welcomed Evie with genuine warmth.

  “Hi,” Evie said, more cautious than excited about contact with her family.

  “I wanted to make sure you knew we were having dinner at four on Thanksgiving. Rafe couldn’t remember if you’d been told.” Heidi sighed. “Men. Because social details aren’t that interesting to them, right?”

  Thanksgiving dinner? Evie held in a groan. She wasn’t up to dinner with her relatives.

  “Oh, and that morning we watch the parade at Jo’s Bar. You know about that, right? It’s a huge crowd. Girls only brunch. You’ll love it. It’s a great chance to meet everyone. Just be careful. The champagne goes down way too easy. Last year I had to call my grandfather to drive me home. I vowed I wasn’t touching the stuff this year and I’m holding myself to that. Oh, it’s on a local channel that starts the replay at nine our time. Just so you don’t freak out and think you have to get up too early.”

  Evie heard a crash in the background.

  Heidi gasped. “I think that was my new batch of cheese. I gotta run. Save the date.”

  The phone went silent.

  Evie slowly pushed the end button, then replaced the phone in her bag and set the bag in the bottom drawer. As far as Heidi was concerned, Evie had just accepted both invitations. Calling back to say no would mean answering questions and coming up with a reason why she wasn’t joining the only people she knew in a town sh
e’d just moved to. Talk about awkward.

  In truth, she didn’t mind spending time with her brothers. With new wives and fiancées hanging around, Evie should find it easy enough to avoid her mother.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall, then walked to the stairs. Once she was on the main floor, she stepped into her brother’s offices and moved toward Dante’s desk. He was staring at his computer screen but glanced up as she approached.

  “Hey,” she said. “I wanted to warn you that tonight there’s more clog dancing. No tap classes until tomorrow. Ballet the rest of the time. Ballet is quieter. Except for the music. But you seem to have this thing against the clog girls, so I’m letting you know in advance.”

  Dante sat at his desk, his blue eyes fixed on her, the oddest expression on his face.

  “What?” she demanded, raising her hands to her head to make sure her braids were tightly in place.

  He swore under his breath. “Is it legal?”

  “Clog dancing? The last time I checked.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. “What you’re wearing.”

  She glanced down at herself. She had on black tights and a leotard. It was exactly what she wore nearly every day of her life. Scuffed ballet shoes covered her feet. Later, she would put on toe shoes to demonstrate some steps, but she wasn’t going to walk around in them. She found that awkward and, okay, a little pretentious.

  She pulled at the stretchy material. “It’s worn, I’ll admit, but I’m dressed.”

  Dante glanced around, as if checking to see who was watching them. As far as Evie could tell, everyone else was busy with work.

  “You’re practically naked.”

  She laughed. “I’m fully covered.”

  “Technically. But…” He waved his hand up and down in front of her body. “Shouldn’t you put on a coat?”

  She didn’t understand. “Because why?”

  “You’re distracting.”

  “Really?”