Chapter Four
Wes sat at the head of the dining room table, papers spread about. He’d intended to look over paperwork his dad wanted him to see, something he wanted Wes’s opinion on, but his assistant had called first thing with no less than five work fires he’d spent hours putting out. Morning moved into afternoon without him noticing until Glenna brought him lunch.
“You’re going to work yourself into an early grave, Mr. Wesley,” Glenna scolded. As housekeeper for the St. Claire family for more than twenty years, Glenna was more of a loving grandmother to the St. Claire kids than anything else. She had been their mother’s right hand for years. They’d be lost without her now.
At the sound of Glenna’s voice, along with the aroma of fresh-baked bread and homemade stew, Wes looked up from what he was reading. “What’s that, Glenna?”
She placed the food in front of him, sliding his papers aside to make room. “I said you work too hard. You’ve been sitting here since early morning. I fed you breakfast in this spot too!” She put her hands on her ample hips and frowned at him. “That is no way for a young man like you to live. You need to go outside, enjoy some fresh air!” She waved a hand toward the large window behind Wes’s chair.
He smiled. Glenna’s silver hair was pulled up into a bun, her black sweater and pants covered with a dusting of flour, most likely from making bread. She must’ve forgotten to put her apron on again. His father continued buying them for her, but she misplaced them, taking them off and putting them with towels or other kitchen laundry. As meticulous as she was about everything else in the house, it was a St. Claire family mystery as to what happened to Glenna’s aprons. They were the socks of her world, disappearing in an abyss somewhere without a trace.
Wes looked at the table. His laptop sat open to his right. The documents he’d been reading were now spread down the length of the mahogany table almost out of his reach. Which was saying something. The table took up most of the room. An enormous rectangle, it seated twelve people, but with chairs wide enough for two adults to fit in, the expanse of wood was lengthy. The kids used to tease that if two people sat on either end, they’d need a phone to speak to each other. Regular conversation would never be heard that far away.
Marian St. Claire took the ribbing from her children well, as always, and forever stood by her decision for a large table. That way, over the years, they could all gather and have room for spouses and children as they came along. Wes’s heart sank at the thought. With Annalise being the only grandchild so far, and the loss of Marian and Anna, the table wasn’t serving the purpose his mother planned.
Glenna’s hand on his shoulder drew him from his thoughts. “You are thinking of your mother.”
Wes nodded, his attempt at a smile falling flat. It didn’t surprise any of the St. Claires how well Glenna could read them after being with the family for so long, but Wes still found it uncanny.
“It’s hard not to think about Mother while I’m here in this house.”
Glenna nodded her agreement. “Yes, but she would not want you to wallow.” Even after all these years in America, a sliver of her Italian accent dusted her words from time to time.
He crossed his arms over his chest. From his seat, he had to tilt his head up a bit to look at her. “Who says I’m wallowing?”
She rolled her eyes, which drew a chuckle from him.
Like him, she crossed her arms. “You sit like a cranky toddler, a frown across your forehead. Always buried in your work. Never looking up.” She unfolded her arms and pointed a finger at him. “You best start looking up, young man. Or you’ll miss it. Miss life. It will race right by you while you have your head buried in all of…this.” Her hand waved across the stacks of papers on the table. “A warm, loving woman will bring you much more than these lifeless papers ever will.”
Wes shook his head and picked up his spoon to dive into the stew that sat in front of him. It was better on all levels to eat her outstanding food than argue with her. “Okay, Glenna. You win.”
“Hmph. I don’t want to win. I want you to have a life.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched back toward the kitchen.
Wes placed a piece of stew meat in his mouth and chewed. He had a life. He did. A full one. Rarely bored in New York, there was always something to do. Places to go. Glenna’s comment about a warm, loving woman stuck in his head though. Sure, he had lots to do in New York with no problem staying busy, but there weren’t a lot of people in his life he could call close.
He’d dated, of course. Even entertained the idea of marriage once. Turned out the woman was seeing another man behind Wes’s back, toying with both of them to see who had more money, more power. When he’d found out, it hadn’t bothered him much, a clear sign she wasn’t the woman for him. And for the most part, closing the deal was better than sex. He had his work. He had his family, his brothers and sister. That was enough. Why would he need more?
The brunette from Grey’s came to mind again. She’d been doing that for days now since they’d danced. He’d meant to ask around, see if he could find out more about her, who she was. But each day he got caught up in work and lost track of time.
“Uncle Dubs!” Annalise’s head bobbed as she ran down the length of the room toward him. Her sandy-colored hair was in little braids that twisted into a bun on top of her head. She wore a light pink leotard with a matching tutu around her waist. Her tennis shoes that lit up hot pink when she took a step were a stark contrast to the rest of her outfit.
“Hey, My Lise!” Wes matched her excitement as she threw herself into his arms. He sat her on his right leg and looked her up and down. “You look like cotton candy.”
She giggled. Best sound in the world.
“I’m not cotton candy, silly. I’m headed to my dance class.”
Mike had come into the room behind her, the smile on his face evidence of the love he had for his daughter. “Hey, can you help me out today?”
Wes looked from Annalise to his brother. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Annalise is done with class at four but I have a conference call here from home I need to do. Dad is busy and…”
“I can get her,” Wes cut his brother off. He knew Mike didn’t like sending a car for Annalise if a family member could get her. As well acquainted as she was with Wilson, their driver, it eased Mike’s mind to have her with their dad or one of her uncles or her aunt. The girl had grown attached to Glenna as well, which was understandable, but it was tough for Glenna to break away. She didn’t like leaving the house “unattended” as she called it. Besides, Wes was more than happy to do it.
“Thanks.” Mike’s relief was palpable. Again, Wes couldn’t even imagine the weight his brother carried on his shoulders. Emotional and otherwise.
“But only if I can take My Lise for ice cream after.”
“Yes! Please say yes, Daddy! Please. I want to get ice cream with Uncle Dubs after my class.”
Wes loved their pet names for each other. Struggling with the W sound when she was younger, Mike had tried to explain to Annalise that it was a double U. She clung to the dub in double and went with it. Hence, she now called Wes Uncle Dubs. The little girl could call him anything she wanted. He in turn called her My Lise because she found it so amusing that he not only said her name wrong, but also claimed her as his.
Mike laughed. “I’m sure I’m supposed to say no because it’s before dinner, but I concede. You may go get ice cream with Uncle Dubs after.”
“Yay!” She hopped out of Wes’s lap with a fist in the air. “Ice cream!” She ran back down the length of the table to her father and took his hand. “Let’s go, Daddy. Time’s a wastin’.”
Wes laughed, as did his brother. Where she got such phrases was beyond him. But damn if she wasn’t the cutest thing.
“Thanks again.” Mike looked back again before leaving.
“Anytime,” Wes said as he watched them go.
*
Noelle took a deep breath in and let it out. It was her first class of the day and she was already needing to find some zen. Five- and six-year-olds were hard work on their own. Getting ten of them to focus all at once in her class was like trying to herd cats, and get them to be quiet. Fidgeting was one thing. The sound level with them all in one room was another.
She hated to complain. For the most part, she had great kids. They were just excited. Which was a good thing. Dancing was fun. She certainly didn’t want to squash their enthusiasm. However, they’d never learn to actually dance if she couldn’t get them organized.
The sound of her hands clapping together echoed through the room. “Okay, class. Time to line up.”
The girls found their way to the barre with a little help from Noelle and one of her other teachers, Zoe. They’d agreed that two of them for the class full of younger kids was best for all involved. It helped Noelle keep things moving along, as well as give the students more one-on-one guidance.
After warming up at the barre, they all lined up to practice a number Noelle and Franchesca had talked about them maybe using in the performance they planned. The little ones were tough to have in a show, but Noelle wanted them to be prepared in case it worked out.
The rest of class went smoothly. Only a few hiccups here and there, but nothing Noelle couldn’t handle.
She noticed Franchesca enter as Noelle was having the girls cool down before going home. In their case it was more of a settling down, but nuanced. Zoe took over the rest of class as Noelle met Franchesca at the back desk.
“Hey. So. I was thinking about the show. I’m hearing around town that a local philanthropy group is raising money for Harry’s House, sort of an after-school hangout for kids. What would you say to us giving part of the proceeds from our performance to them? It would be a great way to connect with the community and show them how having the arts in Marietta is important. It would mean having the performance sooner rather than later, but I think we can do it.”
“Okay.”
“I know that neither one of us is loaded, by any means, but I think we could spare some to give to others, right?”
“Yep. Sounds good.”
“Good! I heard they’re doing some bachelor auction thing too. You and I should get in on that as well.” She nudged Noelle with her elbow and wiggled her eyebrows.
Noelle laughed and shook her head.
A small hand tapped her leg. She looked down to see Annalise, one of her favorite students, looking up at her with enormous blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. It was done up in a neat bun, small braids woven throughout.
Noelle had heard the child’s mother had died not long ago. The father moved them to Marietta to be near family was the rumor. In fact, she remembered that Annalise’s dad was the one with her mystery man from Grey’s the other night. The man who continued to wander into her thoughts. The man she wondered if she’d ever see again.
“Miss Noelle.” Annalise tapped her again.
“Yes, sweetie. What is it?” Class was over and kids were getting their things out of their cubbies as parents filed through the door.
“My Uncle Dubs is in the action.”
Noelle looked at the child then at Franchesca. “The action?”
“I think she means the auction,” Franchesca whispered. “She must’ve heard us talking.”
“Oh! Right. The auction. Your uncle, huh?”
She had yet to see the uncle, but based on what she’d seen of Annalise’s dad, the auction should bring in a lot of money.
“Yep. I heard Daddy and Grandfather and Uncle Dubs talking about it.” She pulled Noelle’s arm causing her to lean over closer to her. “Uncle Dubs isn’t very happy about it either,” she whispered.
Franchesca stifled a laugh behind her hand.
“He has to bake.”
“Really? He has to bake?” Noelle leaned her hands on her knees, now closer to eye level with the cherub-faced girl.
“Yes. And I don’t think he’s very good at it.”
Noelle bit her lip to keep from laughing. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, Glenna always cooks for us.”
“Who is Glenna?”
“She’s our…well, she’s our Glenna.” Annalise looked puzzled at first, but then a satisfied grin crossed her face, as if what she said cleared everything up. “But I have a great idea!” She held up a tiny finger, her dramatic flair not lost on Franchesca who watched the entire exchange.
“You do?”
“Yes. I think you should help my Uncle Dubs learn how to bake.”
Noelle stood tall again, thrown by the child’s comment. “Now, why would you think I could be of any help?”
“Well, you always bring us such yummy cookies and cupcakes once a month for when we’ve been good behaved.”
“Well behaved.”
“Right. That’s what I said.”
Franchesca laughed again. Noelle had to admit, the kid was adorable. But her heart rate accelerated at the thought of her being set up by a child to help some strange guy bake.
“I’m not so sure that’s a great idea, Annalise. I don’t even know your…”
“Uncle Dubs!” Annalise’s loud voice cut through Noelle’s words as she raced toward the door of the studio and straight into the arms of the man Noelle had danced with at Grey’s.