The Sweetest Waltz (Music, Dance & Romance #1)

CHAPTER ONE

The small town on the east coast of Scotland near Edinburgh nestled between the glistening water of the Firth of Forth, that merged with the North Sea, and the beautiful Scottish countryside.

Sunlight streamed through the wide open door of the pretty farmhouse barn, illuminating the area where Delphie had set up her makeshift artist’s studio. Easels displayed two acrylic paintings she was working on, one half finished, the other almost complete, depicting couples dancing in classic poses. The third painting, a poster–size watercolour of a couple in foxtrot mode, was taped flat to the board on her artwork table alongside a selection of watercolour paints. The overachieving, former graphic designer from the heart of Edinburgh hadn’t yet slowed down to the easy rhythm of a quaint, small town life.

But that was the plan.

And she was working on it. Along with taking a chance to create a niche for herself as an independent artist, a painter, something she’d long wanted to do, but never had time for. As a graphic designer working for a company in Edinburgh, her hectic work schedule had overshadowed everything.

Attractive, thirty, her dark chestnut hair was tied back in a silky ponytail from her pale features and green eyes. Her jeans emphasised her shapely but slender figure and she hadn’t yet splashed paint on her pink shirt, but the day was young. Buying an apron to protect her clothes, and tops she didn’t mind getting paint splodges on, were headlining her to–do list.

In the meantime, she’d rummaged through the shirts she used to wear when she worked as a smartly–dressed designer in the city office, and chosen a pastel pink, sky blue and pale yellow to weather the paint storm.

As a bonus, this helped offload the memories of the four years in a corporate world that restricted her creativity, in more ways than one. Seeing the pristine shirts speckled with bright colours from her paintings felt uplifting. Cheerful.

Since being let go by the company when they needed to cut back on staff, and splitting up with her boyfriend when he turned out to be a cheat, there hadn’t been a lot to be cheerful about.

Until recently, when her grandparents wanted her to look after their farmhouse while they went on an extended holiday to Paris to relive the romance of where they first met.

Their request coincided with Delphie wanting to get away from the city. So when her grandparents needed her help, she’d packed her bags and drove to the small town that wasn’t too far from Edinburgh.

The interior of the barn had been converted years ago. It had a dance floor with an area for entertainment. A small stage, bar, a social hub. Not currently in use for anything other than Delphie’s studio.

She’d laid a canvas sheet to shield the floor beneath her artwork and it extended to cover part of the dance floor. Her artwork tables and easels were set up at the side of the dance floor, near the door where the sunlight and fresh air poured in.

While she painted, an old clip from yesteryear of a couple waltzing played on her laptop. The couple, shown in their late twenties, were her grandparents. They waltzed under twinkle lights, the only two beneath the spotlight in the decorated barn. Her grandmother, a professional dancer, wore a beautiful pale pink dress. Her grandfather was suited.

Music played, a romantic ballad. The song lyrics highlighted their story...

I fell in love with you

The first time I saw you dance

That night felt like magic

Made me believe in real romance

Through the years we’ve been together

In love for ever

One thing is still true

I dance the sweetest waltzes with you...

The video ended and Delphie smiled to herself.

Standing back to view her watercolour painting, she went to add more cerulean blue and French ultramarine to her palette, but she was running low on both. A trip to the local art shop was in order.

But before she could pick up her bag, a video call came through on her laptop.

‘Morning, Delphie,’ her grandmother said, smiling at her from a hotel room in Paris. ‘Painting I see. I’m so glad my old photo album is of use to you. You’re such a talented artist.’

‘You’re biased. ’

‘And you’re too modest. How’s your artwork coming along? Selling any more paintings to the local art shop?’

‘I am. I’m grateful that Callum is taking a chance on my work, and so far, he’s sold several dance theme pieces I’ve given him to display for sale in his shop.’

Her grandmother, Delphine, was a mature, elegant woman whose Parisian heritage and professional dance background still showed in her stylish clothes. As a ballerina in her twenties, she’d performed on stage one evening in Paris and captured the heart of Billy, a young Scottish farmer on holiday in France. She’d left Paris to marry the love of her life and live in the farmhouse. They’d never been back to where they’d first fallen in love until now.

Billy’s smiling face peered into frame. ‘How’s my favourite granddaughter?’

‘She’s you’re only granddaughter,’ his wife reminded him.

He laughed. ‘Delphie would’ve always been my favourite. You remind me so much of...’ he thumbed to his wife.

Delphine pushed him playfully. ‘Hurry up and get yourself ready to go out while I talk to Delphie.’

With a smile and a wave, he was gone.

‘We’re heading out into the heart of Paris to a cafe that sells chocolate croissants that taste like a dream,’ Delphine explained.

‘Sounds delicious. I might treat myself to a chocolate cupcake from the bakery while I’m at the art shop buying more paint. ’

‘Is everything okay at the farmhouse? Are you settling into the slower pace of small town life?’ Then her grandmother peered at the three paintings in the background and shook her head. ‘Multitasking is great, but you need to ease off a little, especially when it comes to your artwork. Unless Callum wants to buy lots more paintings from you.’

‘I’m trying to get out of the overachieving rut. But Callum does want more paintings from me so...’ Delphie shrugged.

‘A fortuitous excuse.’ Her grandmother grinned knowingly. ‘Callum’s nice. And he’s single. Maybe you could—’

‘No,’ Delphie cut–in. ‘Romance is not on my to–do list. At least for a while. I want to settle down, find my artistic style, see if I can make this work.’

‘You should always make time for romance,’ her grandmother said, casting a glance towards wherever her husband had gone. ‘I can’t imagine how my life would’ve been if I hadn’t taken a chance on marrying Billy and moving to the farm.’ She sighed thoughtfully. ‘I loved being a dancer. I really did. But I know I made the right choice to leave that life behind.’

‘And now you’re back after all these years, reliving where you both fell in love. What’s it like?’

‘Many things have changed, and yet lots are still the same, or the way that we remember them. Love tends to show everything in a rosy glow, but the theatre where I danced during the ballet, it’s still there. We’ve bought tickets to a show. A couple of shows in fact. It’s so exciting.’

‘I’m happy your trip is worthwhile. ’

‘We’re grateful to you for stepping in and looking after the farmhouse while we’re jaunting around Europe.’

‘It was perfect timing. I needed to get away from the city, to view my life from a whole different perspective,’ said Delphie.

‘An artist’s perspective. Unlike your mother. The artistic gene jumped a generation. I know she’s married a man who is as fascinated by finance as she is, but still...we always enjoyed when you came to stay with us at the farmhouse during the holidays.’

‘I have nothing but fond memories of those times. And I’m so sorry I hadn’t been back in four years. That’s on me.’

‘Hush now. You were busy building a career in the city. We understood. Don’t beat yourself up about that.’

Delphie smiled warmly at her grandmother. Her parents hadn’t approved of her giving up her life in the city when she’d told them she was moving, temporarily, to the town. But she’d held firm to wanting to go. Her life was one long list of disappointing her corporate parents while being cheered on from the sidelines by her grandparents.

Either way, here she was, trying to make a fresh start — and in need of more paint.

‘I won’t hold you back from your painting,’ said her grandmother. ‘And keep an open mind about Callum. See if there’s a spark between you when you’re in his art shop.’

‘Okay,’ Delphie conceded, while doubting it. No sparks had ignited between them so far. And from her disastrous but limited dating history those were the first things needed for the romance mix.

‘Add romance to your to–do list.’

‘Under needing an apron to protect my clothes from paint splashes,’ Delphie joked.

‘There are aprons hanging up in the kitchen cupboard. Help yourself to a couple of them.’

‘I don’t want to ruin your pretty aprons.’

‘Nonsense. You know I love to sew. It’ll give me an excuse to buy more fabric to make new aprons. And remember, if you need a dress for a special occasion, you’ll find plenty in my wardrobes in the spare room. I’ve stored all my dance dresses there.’

Delphie went to object but her grandmother cut–in.

‘Dresses are meant to be worn, not hung up and hidden for years.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind, though I don’t anticipate needing any beautiful ball gowns or evening dresses at the moment,’ said Delphie. ‘But I’ll take you up on your offer of the aprons.’

Her grandmother smiled. ‘We’re heading out now for those chocolate croissants. Have fun painting.’

‘I will.’

After the call, Delphie picked up her bag and headed out into the sunshine. She breathed in the scent of the flowers and greenery from the fields. Nearby farmer friends were keeping an eye on her grandparents’ property where they grew flowers, leaving Delphie free to get on with her artistic pursuits.

Getting into her car, she drove the short distance into the hub of the town .

Delphie walked briskly along the small town’s main street towards the art shop clasping her voluminous but stylish bag.

The town with its quaint shops looked lovely in the morning sunlight. The fragrance from the baskets of flowers hanging from the lamp posts mingled with the fresh countryside air wafting in from the fields that surrounded the hub of the close–knit community.

It reminded her of the times when she was little and she’d stay at her grandparents’ farmhouse while her parents continued their busy business lives in Edinburgh. Those holidays always felt exciting, and although she was now thirty, remained fresh in her thoughts.

She glanced at one of the paintings on display, depicting a romantic couple waltzing. The woman wore a beautiful pale pink dress and the man wore a suit. They were pictured in hold, a moment captured in the painting. The name of the painting was printed on a card: The Sweetest Waltz .

Without pausing, Delphie went inside the shop.

The owner, Callum, in his thirties, with brown hair and a fit build, was working on a landscape painting. His easel was set up beside the counter. He put his brush down and smiled when he saw her.

‘Morning, Delphie. What can I get for you today? Or do you have any new paintings for me?’

‘No new paintings, yet. I’m working on them. But I’ve run out of cerulean blue and French ultramarine.’ She was familiar with the shop and picked up the tubes of paint she needed and put them on the counter. ‘I’ll stock up on a few others while I’m here.’ She proceeded to select lemon yellow, magenta, raw sienna and green gold.

They chatted about art as he put the paints in a bag.

‘Your new dancing couple is really catching people’s interest.’ He gestured to a man peering in the window at the painting. Neither of them knew the man. Wil was tall, early thirties, fit and wore smart casual clothes.

Delphie glanced at the man. He was handsome, with well–cut dark hair, but there was something else about him...

Wil didn’t notice them watching him.

‘And your other dance theme paintings sold well,’ Callum added. He sold artwork in the shop and online. The shop’s website was popular with buyers.

‘Thank you for displaying my work, Callum. I really appreciate it.’

‘It’s a win–win for both of us.’

She noticed he was working on a landscape painting. He sold his own paintings, and those of other artists like Delphie.

‘Is that a local scene?’ she said, admiring his half–finished work.

‘Yes, I’m trying to show the beauty of the countryside.’

‘You’ve really captured the colours in the fields.’

Callum smiled, taking the compliment from one artist to another. Then he leaned back and viewed his painting with a critical eye .

‘It could probably benefit from some figures in the scene. But as you know, I can’t paint people. Not like you.’

‘I can’t paint landscapes like you. I’ve always loved painting people. Especially dancing figures.’

‘You have a real talent for it.’

She smiled, paid for her paints and put them in her bag. ‘Thanks again, Callum.’

As she left the shop, she glanced at the man still looking at the beautiful dancing couple painting in the window. A classic ballroom waltz pose.

Wil was so busy looking at the painting, he didn’t notice her.

Delphie walked past him smiling to herself.

Wil finally went into the shop. He’d never been in before, and seeing Callum painting the landscape, assumed he was the waltzing couple artist.

‘I’m interested in the painting in the window. The Sweetest Waltz.’

Callum put his brush down, wiped his hands and smiled.

‘You’re very talented,’ said Wil. ‘The way you’ve captured the movement of the dancers.’

‘I’m not the artist. Delphie painted that one. You just missed her,’ Callum told him.

Wil frowned. He hadn’t noticed her. ‘Is she a local artist?’

‘Yes, but she’s fairly new in town. I’ve recently started selling her work. Original paintings and limited edition prints.’

‘I’m interested in the original, if it’s for sale. ’

‘Yes, I’ll let you see it.’ Callum went over and lifted the painting from the window display. ‘It’s a beautiful painting. She’s created the romance of the couple waltzing.’

Wil nodded, admiring the work. ‘I’ll buy it.’

‘Do you want it delivered?’

‘No, I’ll take it with me.’

Callum started to wrap the painting.

‘I’m opening a dance studio just off the main street,’ said Wil.

‘I heard about that. I guess the painting is for your new studio.’

‘Yes, I’m trying to liven up the walls with dance artwork.’ Wil glanced around. ‘Do you have any other paintings or prints like this one?’

‘I did, but I sold them recently. Delphie’s work. Maybe you should talk to her. She’s working on new paintings.’ Callum rummaged in a drawer. ‘Here’s her card. She lives in one of the farmhouses. It belongs to her grandparents. They’re on holiday in Europe, so she’s looking after the property.’

Wil read the address on the card. ‘This is near me.’

‘If you’re practically neighbours, you should take a look at her work. She’s converted the barn into a temporary art studio. She only arrived recently from Edinburgh.’

‘Delphie’s from Edinburgh?’

‘She worked as a graphic designer for a city company. Then they cut back on staff and she was let go. She said it was serendipity.’

‘A happy turn of events? ’

‘Yes, her grandparents needed her help, and she wanted a fresh start. She says she’d always dreamed of being an artist. Painting. Making her own way.’

Wil paid for the painting and put Delphie’s card in his pocket. ‘I’ll call her, or drop by. Thanks for your help...’

‘Callum.’

‘Thanks, Callum. I’m Wil.’

‘Welcome to the town, Wil.’

Smiling, Wil took his painting and left.

The barn door was open wide letting the sunshine stream in. Delphie was engrossed in painting her watercolour dancing couple, a foxtrot pose. She stood back to view her work, wearing one of her grandmother’s pretty floral aprons to cover her shirt and jeans.

Wil came into view, approaching from outside in the sunlight, and peered in. He halted outside the doorway, silhouetted against the farmhouse garden backdrop.

Delphie was so busy painting, she didn’t notice him, at first.

‘Delphie?’

She looked round and saw the man from outside the art shop now standing watching her paint.

‘Yes, can I help you?’

‘I bought your painting. The Sweetest Waltz.’

‘I saw you looking at it in the art shop window,’ she told him. Now his intense blue eyes were looking at her. The artist in her matched his eyes to the cerulean blue of her palette .

Wil tentatively stepped inside and walked towards her, with long, smooth, elegant strides, stopping at a polite distance.

‘Sorry, I was so interested in the painting, I didn’t notice you,’ he said.

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

He cast her a warm, sexy smile, causing her to react to his good looks. Pushing the attraction aside, her artistic senses assessed him.

The angles in his handsome face were perfect for portraiture, though she sensed there were wildly different facets to his character. Which one would be the right look for this man? Strong and bold or sensual and deep?

He continued to enthuse about the painting he’d bought.

‘I love how you captured the essence of the waltz. The couple’s posture.’

‘I worked from an old photograph.’ She gestured to a table where the photo album sat alongside her art portfolio. ‘And an old video. I wanted the couple’s stance and hold to be right.’

‘You’ve nailed it. I’m Wil, by the way. I’m opening a new dance studio in town.’

‘How exciting.’ She smiled. ‘I thought I recognised you. I saw you perform in Edinburgh. You’re an incredible dancer.’

‘That’s very kind of you to say.’

‘So you’re starting up a dance studio. Are you from the town?’

‘No, Edinburgh, the same as you.’

She frowned .

‘Callum told me,’ he explained. ‘He gave me your card. I’m interested in other paintings for my studio.’

She focussed on the one she was working on.

Wil came over for a closer look.

‘It’s not a waltz, it’s a—’

‘Foxtrot,’ Wil cut–in.

‘Right.’ She went over to the other table and showed him her art portfolio. It contained predominantly dance and figurative work. ‘These are recent paintings that Callum sold as limited edition prints and originals.’

‘They’re gorgeous. I notice you use different techniques, though I’m no expert on art.’

‘I work in various mediums. Oils, acrylics, watercolours and pen and ink.’

‘The city company’s loss.’

She frowned again.

‘Callum told me about your previous job as a graphic designer.’

‘Ah, Callum has been chatty.’

‘I pried. He said you’d always dreamed of being an artist.’

‘Some dreams do come true.’ She went back over to her watercolour painting.

‘You have a true talent for painting dancers.’

‘I enjoy painting people, and dancing seems so romantic. I love the movement of the figures. The flow of the dresses. The posture and the sense of the music.’

‘So, you’re a romantic,’ he said.

‘Only when it comes to my art.’

‘Not personally? ’

‘I used to be. But now it’s easier to paint romance than risk another broken heart.’ She quickly changed the subject back to her artwork. ‘Is there anything you like? Any particular style of painting?’

‘I’m not sure exactly what I need for my studio. Certainly The Sweetest Waltz.’

‘I could take a look at your studio and give you some suggestions,’ she offered.

‘That would be great. It’s just off the main street. The old community hall. I’ve leased it for a year.’

‘I’ll drop by this afternoon, unless you’re teaching classes.’

‘I’m not teaching dance classes. The studio is for my personal use, and to work with professional dancers on their choreography for stage performances and competitions.’

‘Have you given up performing or competing?’

‘I’m stepping aside for a little while.’ He kept his reply vague. The gossip about his last dance partner, Sienna, leaving him to compete with someone else had recently hit the gossip columns. But he hoped to fit into the small town community, while keeping to the background.

His name still cropped up in dance news, especially as this was the second dance partner he’d parted ways with in the past few years. Not by choice. He hadn’t anticipated they’d ditch him for other dancers. Perhaps his training was too intense? No, he told himself. It was because of love. They’d wanted to be his girlfriends and he had dated the former before they separated when she found someone else to compete with .

Then Sienna left him days before a large contest to dance with his closest rival. That one had stung, though he kept the sting to himself and moved away from Edinburgh to relax and recoup in the small town. It wasn’t too far away from the city, but far enough to be a discouraging distance for those thinking of dropping by his new studio to see what he was doing.

Scouring suitable locations, he’d found the small town on a map. He’d driven there, and taking a look around, he liked the feeling of the community instantly.

Checking the local paper for a hall or venue to lease, he’d seen that the old hall off main street was available. A new community hall had replaced it.

Wil was wealthy, from his family’s background, and his success as a dance performer and competitor. He’d recently started to work as a choreographer too, and when he had a look at the hall, he’d made a snap decision and taken it for one year. A year out to gauge what direction he wanted to take his career. Dance would be at the heart of it. Nothing would change that. His love of dance hadn’t waned even when he’d had his heart ripped out by being ditched by his dance partners.

Brushing aside these thoughts, he studied the old photos in the album of a couple dancing. He noticed the template for The Sweetest Waltz.

‘That’s my grandparents,’ said Delphie. ‘My grandmother was a professional dancer. She taught my grandfather to waltz.’

‘Callum says you’re taking care of the farm while they’re on holiday. ’

‘They’re in Paris. Reliving where they first met.’

Wil seemed interested to hear what had happened.

‘My grandmother was performing on stage in a show. My grandfather said he fell in love with her seeing her dance.’

‘Now that is romantic.’

‘They met after the performance and...she moved here. They got married and lived happily ever after.’

Wil read the name Delphine on one of the photos. ‘ Delphine ?’

‘My grandmother is from Paris. I’m named after her.’

‘Did your grandmother continue dancing when she moved here?’

‘Not professionally, just for the love of dance.’

Wil noticed the dance floor. He tapped and tested it. ‘I see the barn has a dance floor.’

‘My grandparents had it converted years ago so they could dance. Then they used it for local party events. Dance nights at weekends are popular.’

‘Did you ever go?’

‘Once or twice. But I hadn’t visited here in four years. I was too busy with work in the city. I should’ve made time.’

Wil found a space on the floor and danced a little. ‘This is a nice floor.’ He gazed around him. ‘I can picture it all lit up. The music, the atmosphere. You should hold dance nights here again.’

‘I think I’ll concentrate on my art.’

‘Sorry, I have a tendency to be bossy.’

‘I do too. ’

‘Then come along to my dance studio this afternoon and tell me what artwork I need to brighten it up.’

‘I will.’

Smiling, he walked out of the barn. ‘I live nearby. I’m leasing the house just down the road, the one with the lovely flower garden.’

Delphie nodded acknowledgement, and then watched him drive away.

Wil drove along the country road, with a glance at his house as he went by. The property was traditional with a surrounding garden, and had only recently become his residence. So different from his flat in Edinburgh.

Wil pulled up outside the old community hall just off the main street. No sign at the front entrance that it was his dance studio. He’d hired local people to help him transform it.

Lifting the painting from the back of his car, he carried it inside.

The entrance comprised of a small reception area with a desk. The decor was sleek and stylish with few unnecessary embellishments, and led through to the main part of the dance studio where there was a dance floor that Wil found to be excellent.

The walls were painted cream, with sophisticated lighting illuminating the studio. Large mirrors on one wall reflected the lights and doubled the size of the studio that was already spacious. A barre for stretching and warming up was erected in front of the mirrors and could be lifted aside when necessary. The dance floor had been the selling point as far as Wil was concerned. Well sprung. Not too firm. Not too soft. Ideal for dancing.

Now all Wil wanted was to spruce up the decor with some dance theme artwork.

Standing in the middle of the dance floor, he viewed the empty walls, wondering where to hang his new painting. Deciding that he wanted it to be seen prominently, he hung it on one of the main walls.

Looking around, he wondered what artwork Delphie would advise when she dropped by in the afternoon. For some reason, he couldn’t get her out of his thoughts. She was certainly beautiful and talented. Shaking away such thoughts, he decided to put on some classic music and dance on his own, spinning around the room, feeling the energy that always ignited in him when he was dancing.