Dancing on a Moonbeam (Bedford Falls Book 1) (21 page)

Eleanor made a face as she stuffed the clippings in the juicer. "I
may
have slammed the door in her face. But I told her she should arrange a date with you."
 

"The way you told Dad when he came here last week?" Lily asked, her tone accusatory.

Uh-oh. She turned around and looked at her daughter. "Did he tell you that?"

"No. I found out he was here from someone else." Lily's stance held all the anger and hurt in the world.
 

Eleanor wanted to take her baby in her arms, but Lily's posture said very clearly
Don't touch
. "Who told you?" she finally asked.

"Does it matter?"

Sighing, she shook her head. "Okay. Charles stopped by last week. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure why."

Her daughter looked away. "Did he say anything about me?"

Eleanor wanted more than anything to say yes, because even though she thought Charles was a fucker, he was still Lily's dad. But she couldn't lie to her daughter. "I told him he should call you, the same as I told Barbara."

Lily's expression hardened to stone. "But you didn't tell me he came here."

"I should have, you're right. I made a mistake, and I'm sorry." She took a step forward. "I didn't want you to be hurt."

"Well, you kind of failed with that, didn't you?" Lily turned and marched out, straight through the house, slamming the front door.

Eleanor wilted against the counter, staring after her daughter. Yes, she'd really messed that up. When Lily was little, it was easy to make things up to her. She wished it was still as simple as buying her balloons or a cupcake.

Flipping the switch on her juicer, she watched the bright green liquid drip out. When it finished, she downed the shot, shuddered at the overly green taste, and put the shot glass in the dishwasher.
 

The banging going on in the back drew her gaze outside. They were putting the finishing touches on the roof. According to Travis, all that was left was polishing the interior and then she'd be set.

Maybe once the studio was open she'd have a way to connect with Lily. Not that Lily liked to dance, but if Max was right and Lily liked to write, maybe she could ask for help with the marketing material.

The thought perked her up. It'd be nice to connect with Lily on some level other than angst.

Picking up her phone, she texted Max.
Are you working?

His reply was instantaneous.
No, I'm texting you.
 

She grinned.
I plan on coming over after I get some stuff done. Sound ok?

Yep
, he answered.

Today might be the day for you to put on the tutu
, she taunted.

Why? Are pigs flying?
was his response.

Laughing out loud, feeling better, she sat down and began working on her finishing her website and such.
 

It was late afternoon when Travis knocked on the back door.

Eleanor opened it with a big smile. "Are you ready for my paint selections?"

He rubbed his neck, his expression somber. "I have a problem, actually."

Her smile melted away in a flood of worry, but she tried to joke. "Well, it can't be the roof again, right? Because we already had to replace it."

"It's the historical society."

She froze. Barbara was the head of the historical society. But then Eleanor relaxed, shaking her head as she realized she was out of their jurisdiction. "I'm technically outside town limits so the historical guidelines don't apply to me."

"That's not it. They've offered me a job that I can't turn down." He made a face. "The caveat is that I have to start ASAP."

Her mouth fell open. "You're quitting before my dance studio is done?"

"The only things left are the interior finishing touches and the painting. The roof and structural work will be done today. I'll give you the name of a couple painters I'd have employed anyway, and a handyman can finish the detailing and hang all the mirrors. You'll be okay."

"But you promised," she said inanely.

He winced. "I know. Normally I'd put them off until my current job was finished, but they insisted, and it's an important commission. I can't turn it down, and they know it."

Charles got his mother to do this on purpose—Eleanor just knew it. Her hands fisted at her sides. If he were here, she'd sock him.
 

Travis put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to make sure this is right."

"It's not your fault," she said glumly.
 

"If it were any other job, I could put it off. I had to pass over my next contract to another company too." He made a face. "It's strange that they decided to do this right now. They've been sitting on this renovation project for a couple years now."

"Strange," she echoed, mentally cursing Charles and his mother.

Chapter 12

Max waited all afternoon, but Eleanor never texted that she was coming over.

He set his pencil down and checked his phone again. It was late in the afternoon, bordering on evening. Lily would be home from school by now, if the kid came home instead of gallivanting with that boy.

Max winced. That wasn't something he wanted to think about. When he had a daughter—if that ever happened—he hoped he'd be a better guide than the fucker Eleanor had married.

He didn't need to think about this. What he needed to do was finish the second round of this movie score.

He'd actually worked on it a fair bit today—
and
he'd made progress. It heartened him, because what he'd written was actually good. Given the way Cohen was acting, he still wasn't sure this would convince him to sign Max for the next three films by Duggan, but at least Max was proud of the work he'd done.

Music is all that matters
, his dad's voice echoed in his head.
That, and love
.

Getting up from the piano bench, Max stretched his arms as he went to the front window. Maybe he should text Eleanor.

He was still debating when his phone rang. But it wasn't Eleanor—it was his brother, Johann Sebastian Massimo.

"I need a song," Johann said without preamble.

He smiled. He loved how plainspoken his brother was. "What sort of song?"
 

"A simple one that I can use in a tutorial for the piano. You got something I can use? You'll earn royalties off it."

His family put a lot of importance on being paid for one's work. From as long as he could remember, his dad said that artists shouldn't have to give away what they did for free, because art had value. They'd all taken it to heart. "I'll send you a couple songs to pick from."

"Thanks, Max." Business concluded, Johann's demeanor relaxed. "Mom told me you're at Liam's house in New York. How's it going out there?"

He looked out the window at Eleanor's house. "Surprisingly good, actually."

"Dad said you're writing the best music of your life. The country's inspiring, huh?"

"Something like that." His cell beeped with calling waiting, and he glanced at the screen. "Carmen's calling. Did you guys time this?"

"Nah. She's always copying me," Johann said with humor in his voice. "Thanks, Max. Later."

He switched calls, saying, "Are you calling for a song too?"

"What? Did Johann hit you up too?" She snorted. "He can write his own damn songs. He's just lazy, unlike some of us who work hard to get ahead."

It was true—Johann seemed to make it on very little effort. Unlike Carmen's assessment, Max had always admired that about their brother. "So why are you calling?"

"Because I'm going to be in LA next week, and I wanted to crash with you for a couple nights."

"I'm not home, but you know where the spare key is, right?"

"Where are you?"

"In New York." Before she could ask, he added, "At Liam's house in Bedford Falls. I'm on a work retreat."

"Is Liam with you?" The distaste in her voice was loud and clear.

"You know, Liam is a nice guy. I don't understand why you don't like him."

"I don't not
like
him. I despise him," she replied blithely. "There's a very big difference."

He rolled his eyes.

"I guess the country air is working for you. You sound happy."

He blinked. "I do?"

"Yeah. Less edgy or something. Mom always said good air and solid ground to walk on made all the difference in life."
 

A next-door neighbor who was smart, funny, and beautiful wasn't bad either. "The kid who lives next door loves your music, by the way."

"That's sweet. I love hearing that." The thing about Carmen was that no matter how popular she became, it didn't go to her head. She still worked hard, she didn't act entitled, and she believed that a fan's appreciation was sacred. "How'd you find that out?"

"We were talking writing and music," he evaded.

"You're hiding something," Carmen declared, her voice lilting with intrigue. "Tell me about this kid."

"Well, Carmen, I need to go," he said with false regret.

"No you don't, but I'll let you." She paused. "Don't worry. I won't tell Mom you're keeping secrets."

"I'm not keeping secrets," he protested. "I just don't need you poking your nose into my life."

"So this is about a woman," she stated with great authority.

His eyes narrowed. "How did you make that leap?"

"One, you wouldn't care about a random kid unless it was attached to an adult you cared about. Two, you always get secretive about women. You're a girlfriend hoarder. You should learn to share them with us, brother dearest."

He shook his head. "I don't have a girlfriend, and I'm only going to be here a total of three weeks. That's not enough time for a relationship."

"Dad courted Mom three days before he popped the question," Carmen retorted.

"Yeah, but Mom and Dad are different."

"They really are," his sister said, her tone soft with love. "Aren't we lucky?"

He had to agree with her.

*
 
*
 
*

In the end, Max texted Eleanor himself.
 

But she didn't reply, which was odd—she always replied so quickly.
 

Something wasn't right. He ran his fingers over the piano keys, playing the first song he'd written for her. Maybe he should just go over and check on her.

As he got his shoes on, he stalled for a moment, thinking about Lily. He told himself he was going over there in a neighborly capacity—it wouldn't matter if Lily was there. He just wouldn't be able to kiss Eleanor.

Not that he was going over there for kisses. That'd be an unexpected bonus. He just wanted to make sure she was okay.

He went out the front door, hands in his pockets. He felt the cool smooth blue stone he'd put in his pants' pocket and walked faster to Eleanor's front door.

It took forever for her to answer the door after he rang the bell.

She flung it open, and music poured angrily out of the house. She wore workout clothes and old pink ballet shoes. Her hair had escaped its bun in soft wisps, and her chest heaved with exertion, like she'd been dancing up a storm. She looked stricken seeing him. "I forgot to call. I got busy, and then I needed to work off the aggression."

He lifted a hand to her cheek. "What happened?"

"My former mother-in-law decided to hire out my work team away from me. I had to call other people to see who could finish the job." She turned and walked back in. "It's not so easy finding someone last minute, apparently."

Closing the door behind him, he followed her.
 

Eleanor turned down the blaring music, turning to gaze at him sadly. "I guess you'll be happy by this."

He shook his head. "Nothing that makes you sad makes me happy. Want some help calling around? I bet we can find a handyman to finish the studio."

"I'll do it," she said, looking determined.