Dancing on a Moonbeam (Bedford Falls Book 1) (29 page)

But if Cohen liked the music, he was going to offer Max a three-film contract to work with Duggan Richter, the hottest director in Hollywood. To work with Duggan was a dream.

A dream Max wasn't sure he was going to realize.

Fortunately, he had the music he'd been writing inspired by Eleanor. He'd shared the beginning with his dad, who'd voiced what Max had been thinking: that it was a great start to a symphony.

His dad also said it was the best thing Max had ever written. He had to agree, partly because he knew it in his heart, but mostly because Leo Massimo was never wrong about music.

Max arrived at the center of town and went straight to Tiptop Café to get his daily cappuccino and muffin fix.
 

Clara, the owner, wasn't in when he entered. Instead, Eleanor's aunt Debra, who owned the attached bookstore, was behind the counter.

She arched her brow as he approached. "You come here a lot."

"I like the muffins," he said as he joined her at the counter.

"'
Then from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat, so he gave up being king of the wild things,'" she recited. At his blank look, she rolled her eyes, looking very much like Eleanor for a second. "It's from
Where the Wild Things Are
. You really should just buy the book."

"I really should." He grinned. "Maybe I'll stop by after."

"You mean that this time." She blinked. "Let's do it now, before you change your mind."

He stared at her as she took off the apron she was wearing and came around the counter.
 

"Aren't you supposed to stay here?" he asked, looking around.

"Clara had to buy milk. She'll be back in a few minutes. It's all good." She took his arm and led him through the archway that separated the café from the bookstore. "I'll get it for you."

He watched her go to the children's section and pull out a large, thin paperback book. On the cover there was the drawing he was familiar with even if he didn't remember the story.

"Here you go," she said, going behind the counter to ring it up. He watched her place it in a bag before taking his money. As she handed back his change, she gave him a peculiar look. "Clara said she's seen you and Eleanor together a few times."
 

He glanced at her as he put his change away. "That statement was really a question."

The older woman shrugged. "I'm the closest thing to a mother Eleanor has. She was unhappy for a lot of years with Charles, and she deserves to be happy. That's all."

He nodded. "Is this the part where you threaten to cut off my balls if I hurt her?"

"Apparently I don't have to." She grinned. But then her grin faded. "I don't think you're a bad guy. You're honest, and Clara really likes you so that's a plus on your side. Clara has an unfailing bullshit meter."

He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve that vote of confidence, but he was going to take it.

"But I also know that you don't live here," Debra continued. "One day, probably very soon, you're going to go back, and I don't want to have to pick up the pieces of Eleanor's broken heart."

He frowned. "We're advancing from being seen together to being in love really quickly."

"It happens really quickly sometimes." Debra tipped her head. "Are you scared of love?"

"Not at all." Truthfully, a part of him had always longed for it. He just hadn't been sure there'd ever be a woman who fit him the way he wanted.
 

Then he'd met Eleanor.

Debra studied him, as if searching for a chink in his armor. Then she smiled and patted his hand. "You're going to be just fine, Max."
 

Clara was back manning her counter, so he got his cappuccino and muffin and went outside to sit at the bench in the center of the green. It was a great spot to think, and he had a lot to think about this morning.

Most of it had to do with Eleanor.

He hadn't been lying: he wanted to help her get her dance studio going. He hated seeing how defeated she'd looked after her ex and his mother had put the kibosh on her plans to open a studio on her property. They'd got her on a technicality: the residential zoning couldn't support the traffic for students to come to her.

But that didn't mean that she couldn't use it when she was choreographing.

He shook his head as he popped the last bit of muffin in his mouth. She was so set against choreographing, but it was a great idea.
 

Maybe if she walked into her studio and saw what waited for her.

Maybe.

He dusted off the crumbs, got up, and went to the barbershop to see his friend Bernie.

Bernie owned the shop and had for the last hundred and forty years, by the look of him. In spirit, though, Bernie was spry, and his hands were still as steady as a surgeon's. Usually he was at his station, chatting as he took care of his customers, but today he was sitting on one of the waiting area chairs, looking out the window. He lit up when he saw Max walking into the shop.
 

"Young Max," Bernie said, getting creakily to his feet. He held out his hand. "You're here just at the right time. Come sit. I'll give you a shave, and we can talk about poker night this week."

"It's on?" he asked, taking a seat in Bernie's chair.
 

"Damn skippy, it's on." The old man grinned as he pulled a hot towel from the warmer. "We're going to my grandson's place. Are you in?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"Good. I'll text you the details." He waved the hot towel to cool it and then wrapped it around Max's face.

He relaxed into the shave. He hadn't thought he'd like it at first, but there was something nice about the attention. It reminded him of his dad teaching him how to shave when he was ten, simply because it was a man thing to do, even though Max hadn't had any hair.

Bernie was finishing up the shave when the door opened and a tall, dark haired man walked in. The newcomer smiled at Bernie. "Hey Pop."

The old man smiled proudly, patting Max on the shoulder as he undid the cape. "That's my grandson, Robbie. Robbie, I invited Max to your house for poker night. Max lives next door to Eleanor. Max, Robbie and little Eleanor have been friends all their lives."

Robbie stilled and focused his attention on Max. "Amadeus Ravel Massimo, I presume," he said after a moment.

Great. Max snorted as he stood. Eleanor's friend held a grudge. "What weapon do you want to use in the duel? Guns at twenty paces?"

"Nice comeback," Robbie said without cracking a smile. "Can I speak to you outside a moment?"

"Robbie," Bernie said, his white caterpillar eyebrows pressing together. "What's this about? Young Max is my guest here."

"I know, Pop." He squeezed the old man's shoulder. "I just want to make sure he and I understand something."

Did this guy carry a torch for Eleanor? Max set money for Bernie on the counter and followed the man outside.
 

Robbie didn't waste time walking far. He braced his legs and, hands in his pockets, said, "Elle is my best friend in the whole world. I didn't step in and do anything about the fucker when she decided to marry him, but I'm not making that mistake twice."

Max shook his head. "Shouldn't you let Eleanor decide what she wants?"

"Yes." The man stepped forward. "But, for my own conscience, if she decides she wants you and you fuck up, I'm coming after you."

If it'd been Carmen, his sister, Max would have felt the same, so it was hard to fault the guy. He nodded and put his hand out. "Fair enough."

Robbie took his hand. To his credit, his grip was firm but not crushing or trying to intimidate. "Good to meet you finally, by the way."

"Likewise." Max glanced at the man. "I think."

Robbie grinned, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "We'll know soon, won't we?"

Chapter 3

"This is the final listing I have to show you," Amanda said as she opened the lock box to get the key out. "But I saved the best spot for last."

Eleanor nodded half-heartedly at the real estate agent her aunt Debra set her up with. Amanda had been great all day—it wasn't her fault there were so few options to choose from in Bedford Falls.
 

Although to call them "options" was overstating things, because a rundown shack that didn't seem to be wired for electricity hardly seemed like a good spot to have dance classes.

This space, though, was right in the center of town, a block away from Debra's bookshop. Eleanor looked up, trying to imagine her sign hanging up above in the requisite black script that Bedford Falls required of its businesses.

"Here we go." Amanda opened the door and turned the lights on. She strode into the space, her heels loud on the hardwood floor.

Eleanor followed less quickly, trying to imagine herself here teaching. The walls were bare and all white, but the windows in the front let in a good amount of natural light and the floor plan was open. Better than everything, there was no way for Barbara to sabotage this the way she had the remodeling project.

Amanda must have seen her checking out the windows because she said, "People walking by will be able to see your lessons in progress. That'll be good for business."

"Yes." She walked into the middle of the room. The floors weren't bad, but she'd have to install mirrors and barres. It wasn't a big deal, she supposed. She would have had to do it in her own studio too.

"There's an office and a bathroom through this hall." Amanda clacked over to a light switch and illuminated the back. "You could probably turn the office into the changing room you wanted."

She glanced into the room. It was so small, she wasn't sure more than two people could change in there at a time. "It could work," she said trying to sound positive. "How much is the lease for this one?"

Amanda flipped through her notebook of listings, reading the number out loud. "They're asking for first, last, and one month security deposit."

Eleanor winced. It was more expensive than any of the other units they'd looked at. It was better, and the location was prime, but the upfront cost was going to dig deep into her savings. "There aren't any other spaces you'd recommend?"

Amanda shook her head. "Not in Bedford Falls. But if you want to go to the next town over, I can pull up a few that we can go see."

"There's an appeal to being close to home."

"How about this?" Amanda said soothingly. "Think about it for a couple days and then give me a call. You want to find the right spot, and there's no reason to rush."

She felt a rush of gratitude for the woman. She almost threw her arms around her to give her a huge hug, but she held herself in check. "That sounds great."

They chatted a few more minutes after Amanda locked up the retail space, and then Eleanor walked down toward her aunt's bookstore.
 

Debra had been an editor at a large publishing company in Manhattan in her previous life. When Eleanor's mom had passed away, Debra had left her job and come to Bedford Falls to help her brother raise Eleanor and her sister Eliza. She'd opened the bookstore then, because she loved being surrounded by books. She still took freelance editing jobs as well.

When she'd been a kid, most of Eleanor's days had been consumed with dance classes, but on her free days she sat on a beanbag Debra had purchased just for her and daydreamed about the future.

Her life hadn't turned out anything like her dreams.

Frowning, she walked into the store.
 

Debra's salt and pepper head popped out from behind a bookshelf and broke into a pleased smile. "I was thinking about you."

She kissed her aunt's cheek and peeked around the shelf. "Are you busy?"

"I'm rearranging to make more room." Debra pointed to a pile of books on the floor. "I want to expand the children's section, and maybe add a couple little chairs in the back to make it cozy. But that means I have to move the travel section."

"Tricky," Eleanor said, leaning against the bookcase.

"It's a third-world problem," her aunt said with a twinkle in her eye. Then she raised her brow. "How are you?"