wasn’t totally her choice, but she was a smart woman. She wouldn’t live this way if she didn’t like it.
“Mrs. Archer, would you like to go?”
“No, it’s not anything I’m interested in. I have plenty of things to keep me busy. I’m a spry one, for my age.” She twinkled at Rick. “I don’t drive, of course, but I can get myself where I want to go.”
Then why didn’t she take some of the burden off her granddaughter? It wasn’t Annabelle’s fault the seven kids were orphans.
Then it hit him. Of course. It was her grandmother’s fault—if he wanted to be cruel. She hadn’t caused the accident, of course, but she’d been driving. And Annabelle had given up her life to relieve the woman of any guilt.
She’d probably been really young when she’d agreed to it. Might not have realized it then, might not realize it now. But that was exactly what had happened.
He got up, a trail of baby powder following him and his anger barely in check. “Dinner was wonderful, Annabelle. Thanks so much for including me again. I’ll see you all about seven on Saturday morning.”
4
The entire committee for the Christmas boutique had crowded into the unused classroom and were seated in too-small chairs or perched on short desks. Annabelle hesitated on the threshold, her eyes widening as she realized Rick had come.
“Annabelle’s here. We can get started.” Mrs. Veragas smiled. “You’re the last to arrive.”
Annabelle slid into an empty seat and, using her hair as a curtain, looked at the others in the room.
Rick caught her glance. He must have been looking for it, because she was good at hiding. He smiled and raised one eyebrow. Beside him perched another of the sport coaches, who was a college student, and sprawled next to the student was his younger brother.
Mrs. Veragas stood, and the chatter dimmed. “I talked to the deacon, and he agrees that we can add a few incentives to our Christmas boutique this year. Along with the luncheon, the crafts sale, the bake sale, and the raffles, we’ve decided on a distinctly Victorian edge.”
Startled, Annabelle jerked her gaze back to the speaker. Victorian? Like her own life story?
“We’ve arranged for Elisa and Marisol to lead the parlor games, and Andrea and Michelle are setting up a flower arranging display. And the part closest to my heart”—Mrs. Veragas clasped both plump hands to her chest—“Country dancing.” Her smile went misty. “And that’s why I invited these young men today. They’ll be a wonderful part of our demonstration.”
“I’ll partner with Annabelle,” Rick said.
Annabelle missed the next few decisions in a haze of shock. Rick…her…dancing…in public?
“…so we’ll have practices three times a week. I’ve arranged with the men, because we can’t interfere with their sports schedules, of course.” She handed printed pages to the three men, one to Annabelle, and one to two other young women. “In fact, our first practice is immediately after this meeting. Which is adjourned!”
Amid laughter, the group dispersed.
Annabelle stood with the paper in her hand. The page trembled.
“I figured you’d rather dance with someone you know rather than one of the other guys.” Rick took her elbow and steered her toward the hall where Mrs. Veragas and the other four were headed. “Besides, I’m a better dancer than either Greg or Anson.”
One of the young men turned. “Yeah, if you can stand on your tippy toes, you’re bound to be better.”
“That’s ballet,” Annabelle said and wanted to disappear.
“Is it?”
Annabelle reached for Rick’s arm and then let her hand drop. “I didn’t even know—” She stopped, swallowed, and tried again. “No one asked me if I wanted to dance.”
“I suppose they figured you’d say no.” Rick shrugged. “I know they were going to ask the high school kids, but they probably couldn’t keep from giggling the whole time. You’re not a