Chapter 10
Devyn surveyed the scene in the Grace Christian fellowship hall on Thursday night as she tugged on her ballet slippers.
It wasn’t a professional setup, but the enthusiasm—and nerves—at the Oklahoma auditions crackled through the air.
While the choir director from St. Francis listened to the final singers, offering an encouraging smile when a pitch went awry or a voice squeaked, she reviewed her notes for the general dance audition.
The simple combination she’d put together would test rhythm more than dancing skills, but it would also allow her to identify any skilled dancers for the more complex routine that would follow.
Hopefully one of the leotard-clad young women waiting in the room would be proficient enough to pull off the demanding dream ballet sequence in the musical.
After the teenager who was singing finished his audition song, Shaun jotted a few notes and called the next person.
When a late-fortyish blond woman rose, a slight murmur ran through the assembly.
Curious.
She’d have to ask someone later who Diane Fisher was and why her presence had evoked a reaction.
As the woman took her place beside the piano and launched into her song, the side door of the hall opened to admit three latecomers.
Devyn flicked them a glance . . . then did a double take.
It was the tall man and the young girl who’d been walking hand-in-hand at the wharf a few days after she’d arrived. No mom in sight on that occasion, either, but the older man who accompanied them this evening bore a strong resemblance to the mid-thirties guy beside him.
The three of them stopped at the table where the audition forms were arrayed, and the two men each picked one up. After claiming seats near the back, they began filling them out while the blond woman finished her song and Shaun called the next person.
None other than Father Murphy.
The St. Francis pastor ambled forward and faced the crowd with a grin. “Eat your heart out, Gordon MacRae.”
That drew a laugh.
Shaun’s mouth quirked. “What are you singing tonight, Father?”
“I thought a little Gregorian chant might be just the thing.”
A titter ran through the group.
“But since we aren’t at a liturgical service, let’s try this instead.” The priest handed Shaun a piece of sheet music.
As the St. Francis pastor launched into a surprisingly powerful rendition of “There But for You Go I” from Brigadoon, Devyn snuck another peek at the trio in the back.
The younger guy was talking to the dark-haired little girl, who was biting her lip as she watched the proceedings at the front of the room with obvious trepidation.
Strange that he’d bring her here if she didn’t want to come. He certainly didn’t come across as a stage parent. More like a guy who’d prefer soccer tryouts to musical auditions.
Applause broke out as the padre finished his piece, and he took a bow. “I hope you all were listening to those lyrics. They could be applied as much to faith as to romance.”
“This isn’t the time for a homily, Kevin.” Reverend Baker called out the comment from the chair he’d claimed off to the side.
“It’s always the time for a homily, my friend. Whether in words or actions or music. In this case, I’ll let the song speak for itself.” With another exaggerated bow, he returned to his seat.
While the next auditioner was called forward, Devyn checked on the trio again.
As the girl’s nervous gaze connected with hers, her heart contracted.
Been there, felt that, at many an audition.
A hug was out of the question, so Devyn sent her an encouraging smile instead.
After a moment, the corners of the girl’s lips inched up a few degrees.
Excellent. Her silent message of support and empathy had been received.
The father leaned down again to speak to the child as he finished writing on the form, and the girl gave a slow nod.
Before Devyn could turn back to the front, the man shifted toward her.
At his startled expression, her brow puckered.
What was that all about? They didn’t know each other . . . did they?
She didn’t have a chance to ponder those questions, because the call went out for any final singers.
Devyn refocused on the front of the room as the older man from the trio moved forward and approached the piano, a piece of sheet music in hand.
“I haven’t done an audition in decades, but I decided to give it a go.” He handed Shaun the music.
“I’m glad you came, Ben.” The St. Francis choir director set the music on the rack and launched into the song.
The Oklahoma wannabe was a tad rusty, but he had a solid baritone voice and stayed on pitch.
“Nice job.” Shaun handed the music back, wrote a few notes on the audition form, and surveyed the group. “Anyone else?”
“I believe my granddaughter is planning to try out.” Ben remained near the front as he motioned toward the little girl.
“Sure.” Shaun waved her forward. “Come on up, honey.”
The tall, dark-haired man stood and led the youngster forward, her hand tucked in his. Like it had been the day on the wharf.
When they reached the front, the man got down on one knee and put his arm around her as he spoke to Shaun. “This is Isabel’s first audition, so she’d just like to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“That works.” The choir director winked at her. “My birthday is next week. Why don’t you put my name in the song? I’m Shaun. Is that okay with you?”
Isabel bobbed her head.
“Let’s give it a try. I’ll sing along with you once, and you can sing it by yourself the second time.”
He launched into the song, and after guiding her through, he dropped out on the repeat.
Isabel’s voice wavered once, but it was sweet and on pitch.
“Very nice.” Shaun high-fived her, then spoke to the group. “Now I’m going to turn this over to Devyn Lee for the dance segment of the audition. If anyone wants to read for a part, you’ll find Katherine in the conference room after you dance. Good luck to you all.”
While Shaun collected his belongings and Devyn rose, the father, girl, and grandfather started back to their seats, passing her en route.
“You have a very pretty voice.” She leaned down to put herself closer to Isabel’s level as the trio paused.
“Thank you.” The girl gave her a shy smile.
“Are you ready to dance with me?”
“Yes.” Zero hesitation.
“Wonderful. I have a feeling you’re very graceful.”
The girl’s smile broadened.
When Devyn straightened up, she found the girl’s father watching her, an unreadable emotion in his dark brown eyes.
“Thanks for that.” He tipped his head ever so slightly toward Isabel, the husky cadence of his voice sending a prickle of warmth through her.
She swallowed as she stared at him.
What on earth . . . ?
That had felt almost like . . . attraction.
Which was crazy.
Sure, the man had rugged good looks and appeared to be exceptionally fit and toned, but she didn’t even know him. Nor was she in the market for flirtations or romance, thanks to the demanding profession waiting for her back in New York.
Meaning her reaction to him was not only ridiculous but—
“I appreciate your encouragement.”
At his follow-up, heat surged across her cheeks.
Good grief. She’d been gaping at him like a hungry seagull trying to mooch a meal from one of the tourists on the wharf.
She cleared her throat and pasted on a smile. “My pleasure. I’m sure your daughter will enjoy participating in the show. Theater is a wonderful confidence builder for children.”
And with that, she fled toward the front of the room, pursued by a question without an answer.
How could a principal dancer who’d performed in front of thousands of people be thrown off-balance by a simple comment from a handsome stranger who likely had a wife waiting in the wings at home?
Aaron glanced up from his laptop—again. Sighed.
He should be working on the next production schedule, but it was hard to concentrate after that brief but disconcerting exchange with Devyn Lee. One that had left him both rattled and oddly energized.
It didn’t make sense.
A feeling of gratitude toward her would be understandable. After all, she’d been kind to Isabel, had attempted to calm his daughter’s jitters.
But the warmth he felt went beyond gratitude.
It was more like . . . attraction.
Which also didn’t make sense. He wasn’t looking for a relationship with anyone, let alone someone like Devyn Lee, who was only passing through. Romance was too complicated and fraught with risk.
In any case, a woman who lived in the refined, rarified world of ballet would never have any interest in a blue-collar lumberman with two left feet—even if that lumberman had a college degree.
“All right, everyone, let’s try it now with music.” Devyn picked up her phone from a chair, called up a song, and led the motley group of hopeful thespians behind her through the simple movements she’d taught them, keeping tabs on them over her shoulder.
He leaned back in his seat, giving up all pretense of working as he watched her.
Man, she was fluid. Supple. And the way she moved her arms was beyond elegant and graceful. It was like she was part of the music. Even the best dancers behind her seemed awkward in comparison.
No surprise, given her background—and mesmerizing to watch.
“You guys did great.” Devyn smiled at the eclectic assemblage. “Now let’s break into groups of five, and this time I’ll watch you.”
Father Murphy ended up in the first group, along with Gramp and Isabel.
The two Steeles didn’t do too bad, considering they had no training, and Father Murphy put everyone at ease by hamming it up big-time.
Devyn applauded when they finished the combination. “You all did terrific. If you want to read for a part, go on over to the conference room.”
Gramp leaned down and spoke to Isabel, then they both headed his direction.
“Don’t you want to pitch your hat in the ring for a speaking role?” Aaron closed his laptop as they joined him, raising an eyebrow at Gramp.
“Nope. It will be fun just to be on stage with my favorite great-granddaughter.” He hip-checked Isabel.
“I’m your only great-granddaughter.”
“That’s a fact. And aren’t I lucky to have you? Plus, you’re also going to be my theater buddy, right?”
“If we get in the show.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and scuffed the toe of her sport shoe. “I didn’t sing very loud, and I don’t know how to dance.”
“You sang louder than a lot of people.” Aaron laid his hand on her shoulder. “And you did all the dance steps fine.”
“No, I didn’t. I made mistakes.”
“Not as many as Father Murphy.” Gramp chortled and gave her a nudge. “I was so busy laughing at his antics I messed up half the steps myself.”
“Yeah. He was kind of funny.” Isabel cast a quick glance toward the cleric. “But I wish I could dance like Miss Devyn.” She angled toward the front, using the name the dancer had suggested to the younger set, watching as the choreographer put the next group through its paces.
“Maybe you could. Ballet lessons may not be a bad idea, come fall.” Gramp gave him a subtle nudge.
Aaron took the cue. “We could consider that.”
“Really?” Isabel’s face brightened. “Do you think Miss Devyn will teach a class?”
“No, honey. She’s only here for the summer. She lives in New York.”
Her face fell. “I wish she lived here.”
“You’ll get to see her all summer, though.”
“If they let me be in the show.” She continued to watch the woman. “She doesn’t look sad tonight, does she?”
“No. I think her sister was sick the day we saw her on the wharf, but she’s getting better now.”
“I’m glad. Being sad is hard.” Before he could think of a response to that, she continued. “She’s nice, isn’t she, Dad?”
“Seems to be.”
“Also pretty.” Gramp’s eyes began to twinkle. “Don’t you think so, Aaron?”
He squinted at the older man, confining his response to one cautious word. “Yes.”
“You don’t sound sure about that.”
Oh, he was sure. With her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, her classical profile and delicate features were on full display tonight. And her blue eyes were stunning. The kind a man could drown in—if he took the plunge.
But no way was he voicing those thoughts.
And why was Gramp homing in on her appearance, anyway?
“I’m sure.” Isabel answered for him. “She looks like a storybook princess.”
“You are one perceptive young lady.” Gramp squeezed her shoulder, then cocked his head as he studied Devyn. “I can imagine her dancing the title role in Sleeping Beauty. I expect she’d knock the audience dead. Don’t you, Aaron?”
Enough.
Whatever Gramp was up to, this game was over.
“I don’t know anything about ballet. You guys ready to go home?” He tucked his laptop under his arm and herded Isabel toward the door.
“Yep.” Gramp fell in behind him. “And while you may not know anything about ballet, you do know a pretty woman when you see one, despite your reticence. All the tells are there.”
Clamping his lips together, Aaron picked up his pace.
Gramp must have detected the sudden sizzle during the brief exchange between the dancer who’d caught Isabel’s fancy and his grandson. But attempting to explain it would be an exercise in futility.
Especially since he couldn’t figure out what had prompted it himself.
And if Gramp was planning to start playing matchmaker, the two of them were going to have to have a long talk.
Romance was not in his future.
Period.
Besides, even if he was willing to toy with that idea at a distant future date, aiming his sights on a woman who would be gone in a matter of weeks, back to her glamorous life in the spotlight in New York, would be the height of foolishness.
Yet as he pushed open the door and ushered Isabel through, he couldn’t resist another peek at the appealing ballerina who’d not only captivated his daughter but cast some sort of a spell on him too.
And Gramp’s smug expression told him he knew that as Aaron motioned him out and closed the door behind them with a firm click.
But this was not a Disney movie. He was not a handsome prince. And happy endings only happened in fairy tales.
Important facts to remember if Gramp decided he wanted to continue to play Cupid.
“Yep. Mighty pretty woman.” Gramp smirked at him as he slid into the front passenger seat of the car.
Scratch if.
Gramp was definitely going to pester him about this again.
Stifling his annoyance, Aaron buckled Isabel in the backseat, closed the door, and circled the car.
All he could do was have a snappy reply ready and hope it dissuaded his grandfather from pursuing a dead-end campaign that would only reawaken yearnings best left undisturbed.