Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
The sun was shiningas Cassie drove into work, which was a blessing after the overnight rain. She was still getting used to the short commute she now had. When she’d lived in the city, she’d had to catch two trains to get to work. It was one of the reasons she’d agreed to help her friend Gemma out by moving to Hartson’s Creek and teaching at the Forsythe Dance Studio.
She’d first met Gemma when she was nine and Gemma was eleven. It had been Cassie’s first day at her new school for performing arts and Gemma had been assigned as her buddy. It had been Cassie’s mom’s dream for Cassie to become a dancer, and Cassie had auditioned three times before she’d been given a place at the school.
They’d spent most of their days dancing, singing, and acting, their academic education second to their physical training. Their classes had been mixed – that’s how she and Gemma had become such good friends. They’d sit around after school while they were waiting to be picked up, giggling about the ‘trifecta’ their teachers were always lecturing them about.
“It’s not enough to be great at one thing. You have to be great at three to make it. Music, dancing, and acting. They’re the three legs your careers will rest on.”
When Cassie was seventeen, she’d joined the New York Academy of Ballet, and it had almost broken her heart to leave Gemma behind. By nineteen, Gemma had given up on performing and took a gap year to travel the world.
That’s where she’d met Riley – her now husband. By twenty they were married and she was pregnant. Soon after they’d moved to Hartson’s Creek, Riley’s home town, where he had a job at the local bank.
Cassie and Gemma had kept in touch as much as they could. And then when Cassie’s career was cut short thanks to her accident, Gemma had offered her a job at the Dance School she’d opened, while Cassie decided what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
Because it was clear she couldn’t dance anymore. Not professionally anyway. Teaching was the best she could manage.
Parking her car outside of the studio, Cassie grabbed her bag before climbing out. She had an hour before her first class – a mommy and me one – so she was planning on doing some exercise. Use it or lose it. And she didn’t want to lose it, mostly because dancing filled her soul.
It was the one time she could push everything out of her mind. Forget who she was and any troubles tickling her brain. She’d lose herself in the movement and rhythm of her dance, in the stretching of her feet and the tautness of her muscles.
“Hey!” Gemma greeted her as she walked inside. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
She didn’t look annoyed, though. Which was good because Cassie had enough annoyance from Delilah’s dad last night. She’d spent the evening trying to work out why she’d reacted so strongly to his anger.
Why she couldn’t stop looking at the way his dusty t-shirt clung to his chest, or the inked designs along his arms.
Ugh. He was so not her type. And yet somehow she couldn’t get him out of her mind.
“What’s wrong?” She stopped at the counter and dropped her bag to the floor.
“These just arrived for you.” Gemma pointed at an enormous bouquet behind her. “I put them in some water. They’re beautiful.”
Cassie stared at them, surprised. “Where did they come from?”
“Only one way to find out.” Gemma grinned, passing her a little white envelope – the kind that always seemed to go with flowers. Cassie opened it and unfolded the nondescript card.
The writing was masculine. As though he’d written it himself rather than calling the order through to a shop.
Sorry for being late. It won’t happen again.
Presley Hartson
Oh. She looked at it for a moment, like she was trying to read between the lines. Had she really been that much of a bitch last night?
Probably. But then she hated seeing the little girl cry. She’d been there too often herself. Forgotten. Alone.
Ugh, that was history now.
“I take it he came to pick up Delilah eventually, then?” Gemma asked. She’d been the one to call Mr. Hartson at Cassie’s request, but she hadn’t been able to stay late with Cassie as she had two kids of her own who were hungry for dinner, and there was no way Cassie was going to let them suffer because Presley Hartson worked on his own time frame.
“Yep.” Cassie lifted a brow.
“The flowers are a sweet touch. I wish he’d sent me some.” Gemma sighed.
“You’re married.” Cassie smiled because she knew how in love Gemma and Riley were. He was a good guy, and Gemma knew it.
“I know, but a girl can dream. According to Riley, the Hartson brothers were everybody’s crush during high school. No other guys had a chance.”
For a moment, Cassie imagined Presley Hartson as a teenager, with the kind of swagger he only hinted at yesterday.
Yeah, she probably would have been a fan, too.
“Such a shame though, what happened to his wife,” Gemma added, her expression suddenly serious.
Cassie’s throat tightened. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know?” Gemma asked. “I suppose you wouldn’t. Why would you? You’re new.” Gemma smiled at her. “We need to write a handbook or something. It could have the history of Hartson’s Creek and a brief rundown of Chairs.”
“Chairs?” Cassie frowned. “What’s that.”
Gemma waved her hand. “I’ll tell you about that later. But I can’t believe I didn’t tell you about Presley. His wife died three years ago. He’s been raising his little girl alone since then.”
Cassie blinked. He was a widower? And she’d given him a hard time about being a bad dad? “Oh.” She felt terrible. Worse than terrible.
“He gets help from his parents. His mom is the one who usually does the pick ups from dance class,” Gemma continued.
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that she might not see him again.
Relieved. She was relieved. She didn’t need to be mooning after a widowed man. Her life was complicated enough, thank you very much.
She’d only arrived in Hartson’s Creek a week ago. She’d barely had time to unpack the boxes the delivery company had left stacked up along the walls in her rented house. Not that she needed most of it. Cassie wasn’t really one for too many possessions.
According to the therapist she’d seen after the accident, that came from a lifetime of moving around. After her dad left her mom when Cassie was a baby, they’d moved around a lot. Her mom still did. It was like she was always searching for something she couldn’t have.
As for her dad, Cassie barely heard from him. She’d long since accepted he wasn’t interested, even if her mom had always pined for him.
Neither of them had visited her at the hospital after her accident. Her dad hadn’t even sent a card. Her mom had called from Italy – where she’d been staying with some boyfriend – and that had been it.
When the doctor had explained that her ankle would never heal properly and that she’d never be able to dance en pointe again, she hadn’t bothered to tell either of them. Her career was over thanks to a rainy night and a car with bald tires and she’d never felt more alone.
She could teach, though. So when Gemma had visited her – yes visited, even though she’d had to arrange childcare and cover at the dance school – and offered her a job, Cassie had taken it. She’d wanted to get away from New York, the city she’d grown up in. It had felt stupid to stay when she had no job and no prospects for the future.
Moving to West Virginia felt like a good way to take her mind off things while she worked out what she was going to do for the rest of her life.
So here she was. Teaching kids to dance. Living the dream life.
With flowers from a dad she’d misjudged on her first day.
“Is it okay to leave the flowers here?” Cassie asked. “I’ll take them home tonight.”
“Sure, no problem.” Gemma gave her a warm smile.
“Thanks. I’m going to head to the studio and warm up.” She picked her bag up, taking one last look at the bouquet. There were lilies. Her favorite. The same flowers her mom always sent her before opening night.
She wasn’t sure why that felt significant but somehow it did.
“I’ll see you in an hour.” She’d buy Gemma a coffee after her first class when she had a break. Maybe this was the main reason she’d taken the job. So she could spend time with her best friend, the way they used to. Gemma felt like the only family she had anymore.
Angry dads aside, she already knew she’d made the right decision in coming here. And if she saw him again, she’d apologize too.
But she probably wouldn’t see him again.
By Friday, Cassie felt exhausted. She wasn’t sure if it was from the mental effort of trying to learn a hundred unfamiliar names or the physical effort of unpacking all the boxes in her house, but either way she was bone tired as she waved off the last children in her class.
She quickly showered in the staff washrooms and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, looping her hair into a messy bun before running a slick of gloss over her lips.
By the time she reached the reception area, Gemma had locked the doors. “Ready?” she asked.
She’d invited Cassie to join her and her kids for dinner at the diner. An invitation Cassie had gratefully accepted. Gemma and her children dine there every Friday for dinner – Riley worked late on Friday nights so it’s their little treat for the weekend.
The diner was in the center of Hartson’s Creek, flanking the grassy town square where a bandstand stood in the center. Most of the buildings in the center were commercial ones. There was a hair salon – Gemma told her which stylist was the best – along with a realtor, a bank, and a bar. On the other side of the square was a white building with a spire – the First Baptist Church.
Gemma’s kids were running ahead of them on the sidewalk. Lucy’s the oldest, at seven, and behind her was Andrew, who was five. The kids stopped and waited for them when they arrived at the diner. Gemma reached over their heads and pushed the door open.
The sound of voices and laughter – and was that a real jukebox? – hit them as soon as they stepped inside, behind Lucy and Andrew who were already running to the back. “Mom, somebody’s in our booth,” Lucy complained.
“Honey, it’s not ours,” Gemma told her. “The seats are first come first serve, remember? There’s a table over there. Go grab it.”
“But it’s not a booth.”
Gemma gave her daughter the kind of look that Cassie knew all too well. She used it herself sometimes, when her students were shouting and not listening and she had to clap her hands to be heard.
“Okay.” Lucy nodded, looking resigned.
“We’re leaving actually, if you want ours,” a woman said. She was about Cassie’s age, with long dark hair and striking eyes. It was a face that drew a second glance. She slithered across the cracked leather bench seat of the booth, swinging her denim-clad legs to the front to stand.
“Oh, hey Grace,” Gemma said, smiling at the woman. “That’s so kind of you.”
“Not a problem.” Grace was the perfect name for her. She had the kind of innate glamor that you didn’t often see in women their age. “I’m just waiting for Pres. Here they are…”
Cassie felt a prickle on the back of her neck as she slowly turned around. Delilah was running out of a door at the back that led to the bathrooms, followed a few feet behind by her father.
Presley Hartson. The man she’d insulted a few days ago.
It was weird how quickly their eyes connected. The impact of his stare made her skin tingle.
She’d thought he was attractive when she’d seen him at the dance school. But that was nothing compared to now. There was no dust, no evidence of a day working hard with his hands. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt, his hair a little messed up as though he’d been running his hands through it. He had a day’s worth of beard growth, too.
It made him look dark and dangerous.
“Miss Cassie,” Delilah called out, grinning at her. “What are you doing here?”
Before Cassie could respond, Delilah threw herself against Cassie, her arms circling her waist. It was impossible not to hug her back. She was so full of life and excitement, it made Cassie’s heart feel warm.
“I’m just getting some dinner,” Cassie told her, smiling at the little girl. “Have you eaten?”
“Yep. I had nuggets. My favorite.”
“They were my favorite when I was your age, too,” Cassie told her.
“They were?” Delilah’s face lit up like Cassie had just told her she’d won a million dollars. “Oh wow.” She turned to look at her dad, who’d caught up with them. “Daddy, did you know that Miss Cassie likes nuggets, too?”
Cassie didn’t bother to correct her. Anyway, she kind of did still like them. They were comfort food, and she was all for that.
Presley’s gaze landed on her again. This time it was cool. Appraising. She parted her lips to take in a breath.
“Hi,” he said stiffly.
“Hi.” She smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. “Thank you for the flowers. You didn’t need to.”
Delilah had wandered over to Lucy. The two of them started talking rapidly about some TV show they both liked. Grace and Gemma were chatting, and Andrew was standing by his mom’s side, looking shy.
Presley shrugged. “No problem.”
She took a deep breath, because it had been playing on her mind all week. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did,” she told him. “I’m sorry.”
He blinked, and she noticed how thick his eyelashes were. Most women would kill for natural lashes like that. Or at least pay a lot of money for them.
“It’s fine.” His words sounded like a period. No more conversation needed.
And yeah, she wasn’t stupid enough to tell him how sorry she was about his wife. But she felt it. Yes, she’d hurt her ankle, but he’d lost his everything. It wasn’t comparable, and she felt bad for the way she’d talked to him.
“Delilah, we gotta go,” he called out.
“Can’t we stay?”
“We have to get ready for Chairs.”
“Oh yay!” The little girl clapped her hands together, the diner clearly forgotten. “What are we waiting here for? Let’s go.”
He gave Cassie a nod and she nodded back. Okay, so he still disliked her, she could live with that.
She didn’t have to be friends with everybody. She’d learned that at an early age. But she was a friendly person at heart and hated that she’d gotten off to a poor start with him.
“Bye Miss Cassie!” Delilah waved and ran to the door, Grace and Presley following behind her.
She’d forgotten about Grace. Was she his girlfriend? She was pretty enough. A good match for the stupidly attractive Presley Hartson.
Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as though she was interested, anyway. She liked her men to smile now and then.
And not hate her.
“Come on, let’s sit down and order,” Gemma said, hustling Andrew onto the bench next to Lucy. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”
An hour later she and Gemma were laughing about the Trifecta of Performing that was hammered into them at stage school, while the server cleared their plates. They’d spent most of dinner talking about old friends and what they were doing now. Lucy and Andrew were coloring a sheet they’d been given, waiting patiently for the ice cream Gemma had promised them if they behaved well at the table.
“Can I ask you something?” Cassie asked.
“Sure.” Gemma smiled.
“Does Presley Hartson’s girlfriend dance? She looks like a dancer.”
Gemma blinked. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
Cassie’s heart did a weird clench. Ugh. “Who was he with tonight then?”
“Grace?” Gemma asked. “She’s his cousin. Her mom and his dad are siblings.” Gemma shrugged. “There are a lot of Hartson’s in this town. Hence the name.”
Cassie blinked, feeling stupid. It was Hartson’s Creek. She hadn’t put the two together. She had now though. “So the Hartsons are like royalty around here then?”
Gemma shrugged. “Something like that. Maybe they should bring some thrones to Chairs,” she chuckled.
Cassie remembered Gemma had mentioned Chairs before, and never expanded on it. “What is Chairs anyway?” she asked, curious.
Gemma grinned. “Oh I really need to write you that Hartson’s Creek manual.” She took a sip of her coffee the server had just topped up. “Chairs is when the town gets together on Friday nights. If the weather is good, we all carry our chairs down to a field by the creek and the kids play flag football or hang around and the adults drink lemonade and gossip.”
“No way. That’s not real. It sounds like something from a TV show,” Cassie said. She could picture the Gilmore Girls carrying their Chairs to the square to sit around and gossip.
“I’m not lying, I swear,” Gemma protested. “I thought it was made up, too, when we first moved here. But it’s actually kind of sweet. You get to know everybody really quickly at Chairs.” She lifted a brow at Cassie. “Maybe you should come tonight? We’re meeting Riley there. He’s going straight from work.”
“Oh no, I can’t. I have to finish my unpacking. But thank you.” It was a lie, but only a little one. Fact was, she’d imposed on Gemma enough. She appreciated her friend for showing her around town, but Gemma and her family deserved some family time without her. She was determined not to be a burden on them. She needed to make her own friends.
And then Presley Hartson’s face flashed into her mind. She pushed that thought firmly away.
“Maybe next week then?” Gemma asked, reaching for the check, but Cassie grabbed it first.
“For sure,” she said. “And this is on me. To say thank you for all you’ve done.”