The Sassy One

Angelina’s eyes narrowed. “You are her mother?” She sounded doubtful.



“No. A friend of the family.”



Angelina looked her over. Francesca fought against the sudden need to stand straighter and square her shoulders.



“She will need a practice room. Class is five days a week in the summer, but when school begins it is only three times a week.” She shrugged delicately. “She will have to dance on her own the other days. Unless you hire a private tutor, she must attend academic classes, yes?”



A private tutor? So she could dance the rest of the time. This was so not her world. At least Sam’s house had plenty of bedrooms. One could probably be converted to a practice room.



“I’ll pass the message along to her father.”



“My bill.” The teacher handed her another sheet of paper. “This is for a month’s worth of lessons.”



Francesca glanced down at the total at the bottom and nearly fell over. She could easily live on that amount for two months.



“Anything else?” she asked, trying not to look shocked.



Angelina shook her head and smiled. “The rest is up to Kelly. Soon we will see if she has the backbone and the drive to devote herself to the ballet. She has much talent, but at this stage in her career, success will be about hard work. Oui?”



Kelly was only twelve. Francesca didn’t think anyone should be using the word career in reference to anything she id.



“Thank you so much for your time,” Francesca told her.



Angelina nodded gracefully, then returned to her office. Seconds later Kelly emerged from the dressing room.



“That was something,” Francesca said as she approached. “I’m amazed and impressed. I had no idea a class could be so much work.”



“That wasn’t a regular class. Miss Angelina wanted to see what I could do. Is that the application and stuff?” she asked, pointing at the folder.



“Yes. I’ll give it to your father when we get back to the house. Speaking of which, do you want to head home or go out for lunch? It’s only a little after noon.”



Kelly gave a heavy sigh of the long-suffering. “Lunch would be okay.”



Francesca wanted to tell her not to put herself out, but she held back. As she’d told Sam the previous evening, Kelly was acting up because she was scared. Somewhere under that prickly exterior was a charming young woman waiting to blossom. At least, that was the fantasy.



Thirty minutes later they were seated on a patio table in the shade. Kelly had left her hair up, but had pulled on jeans and a T-shirt over her ballet clothes. Francesca studied the menu and mentally winced at the prices. Twelve-fifty for a salad? If this was lunch, how much would dinner cost?



Not her problem, she reminded herself. That morning Sam had handed over cash, along with phone numbers and instructions to have fun. She’d been uncomfortable taking money from him, but as he’d pointed out, she was taking care of his daughter. That was favor enough without making her pay for anything.



She had agreed, mostly because she didn’t have a choice. Places like this weren’t in her budget.



The waitress arrived. They each ordered a Chinese chicken salad. Kelly asked for a cup of soup to start with while Francesca decided to content herself with the incredible French bread they’d brought.



When the two of them were alone, Francesca looked at Sam’s daughter. The girl watched her carefully, as if not sure what was going to happen. Okay, so the situation was a little strange for both of them. Less than forty-eight hours ago neither had known the other existed. As the adult, Francesca knew it was up to her to make Kelly comfortable.



“You’re an incredible dancer,” she began, buttering a piece of bread. “How long have you been studying ballet?”



“Since I was six. I took a lot of different kinds of dance. Tap, modern, and ballet. Then a couple of years later I decided to focus on ballet.”



Francesca tried to remember focusing on anything but having fun with her sisters when she’d been that age. “Does it hurt to go up on your toes?”



“A little. You get used to it. I’ve been dancing on pointe for over a year. It’s no big deal.”



Francesca doubted that. “It seems like a big deal to me, but then, I’ve never been very coordinated. If I tried any of those moves you were doing, I’d probably take someone’s eye out.”



Kelly started to smile, then pressed her lips together. “Did you ever dance?”



Francesca knew she wasn’t talking about flailing about at school dances. “I was a cheerleader in high school. Does that count?”



Kelly rolled her eyes. “Not even close.”



“I didn’t think so. I can’t even say I was really good at it. I was enthusiastic, but I didn’t have a lot of talent. Some of the other girls had studied gymnastics, and they could do things with their bodies that astounded me. Of course, I never saw the point in being a human pretzel.”



Kelly reached for the bread and took a slice. “Are you divorced?”



The change in topic startled Francesca, but at least they were having a normal conversation. “No. I was married before, but my husband died.”



Kelly’s eyes widened. “For real? Was he old?”



“No. He was twenty-eight. He was killed in a car accident.”



Kelly stared at her. “I’ve never known anyone who died. Is it really spooky having to go to the funeral?”



“I don’t remember much about it.” Todd’s death had been unexpected, and the days that followed had passed in a blur. “I moved back home for a few weeks, and that made a big difference. My whole family was around me. My sisters especially.”



“You have sisters?” Kelly actually sounded interested.



“Three. Katie is a year older. Brenna is my twin, and Mia is nine years younger than me.”



Kelly leaned forward. “You have a twin?”



She nodded. “We’re fraternal, though, so we don’t look that much alike.”



“That is so cool.”



“My grandparents really wanted my folks to have a boy, but I kind of like that it’s only girls.”



Kelly’s expression turned wistful. “I would have liked a sister, but there was no way Tanya would ever get pregnant again. I was an accident.” She picked up another slice of bread. “She used to say a mistake. She said that nothing was worth feeling sick and being fat. Plus I guess labor is really bad. You didn’t have any kids, huh?”



Too much information, Francesca thought. “Todd and I wanted to wait a couple of years to start our family.”



“And then he was gone. Bummer.” Kelly eyed her. “Are you going to marry my dad?”



“No.”



She started to say they were just friends, but then she remembered Kelly’s definition of the word. While it described her relationship with Sam very well, she was uncomfortable with a twelve-year-old assuming she and Sam were having sex.



“He’s rich,” Kelly informed her. “Tanya always said that was the most important quality a man could have.”



“Not to me.”



Kelly snorted. “Oh, please. You drive an old truck and wear cheap clothes. Why wouldn’t you want someone with plenty of cash?”



Francesca bristled, then reminded herself Kelly was pushing back to get a reaction. “I’m in graduate school. Being poor comes with the territory.”



“That’s like college, right?”



“Yes. I have a bachelor’s degree. That took four years. Now I’m in a program for my master’s and my Ph.D.”



“What about your parents? Why aren’t they paying for stuff?”



“Because I don’t want them to. Going back to college was my decision. I want to pay my way.”



Kelly looked genuinely shocked. “Why?”



“Because it gives me a sense of accomplishment. I want to be independent. This decision is about who I am as a person.”



“You’re stupid,” Kelly muttered as her soup arrived. She picked up her spoon.



“Why do you dance?” Francesca asked, ignoring the “stupid” remark. “It’s a lot of hard work. You sweat, you get sore. No one pays you. You might be able to have a career as a dancer, but what if you don’t? You’ll have put in years of hard work, and what will you have to show for it?”



“That’s different.”



“Actually, it’s pretty much the same. We both have long-term goals that require a lot of us.”



“Yeah, but I expect Sam or Tanya to pay for it.”



“That may change as you get older.”



“No way.”



Kelly ate her soup. After a couple of minutes she said, “What are you studying?”



“Psychology.”



“Oh, perfect. So you’re going to tell my dad everything you think is wrong with me.”



“Probably.”



Kelly’s green eyes narrowed. “I’m very smart.”



“I know. You’re also resourceful, independent, and self-motivated.”



Kelly started to smile.



“Unfortunately, you have no sense of community, you don’t seem to care about anyone but yourself, and you have no respect for authority or rules.”



The smile faded.



Francesca shrugged. “It’s okay, Kelly. We all have flaws.”



The girl looked at her. “I don’t care what you think.”



“I’m sure that’s true. So what do you want to do this afternoon? I was thinking we could go shopping and get you a few things to tide you over until your belongings arrive.”



Kelly glanced at Francesca’s sundress and shook her head. “No, thanks. I don’t like bargain shopping.”



Did the kid know how to lob the insults or what? Francesca sipped her iced tea. “No problem. I’d thought going to a movie after shopping would be fun, but if you’re not interested, we’ll just go back to the house.”



Kelly dropped her spoon and glared, but didn’t speak. Francesca could feel her outrage. Sam’s daughter didn’t like being maneuvered into a corner, but Francesca didn’t know any other way to teach her lessons about courtesy. If Kelly wanted to blow everyone off, that was her business. But it was going to cost her things like movies and trips to the beach. With a little luck, and time, she would see the value of being more gracious.



Of course, Francesca could be wrong about all of this. Underneath the angry, hostile teen facade might be a really unpleasant kid. She hoped not, for Sam’s sake. And for Kelly’s.



“I come bearing Italian food,” Brenna said as she stepped into Francesca’s small apartment. “More important, I brought wine.”



Francesca took the offered bottles and carried them into the kitchen. “Good. I need a drink. I was getting so desperate, I was about to go to the grocery store and buy a bottle of something.” She looked at the chilled bottles of Marcelli Reserve Chardonnay. “This is much better.”



Brenna set a large Styrofoam container on the counter and pulled off the top. She wore her short dark hair pulled back with a headband. A loose shirt hung to mid-thigh, nearly covering her cutoff jean shorts.



“School giving you trouble?”



“I would have to have actually started my dissertation for it to be a problem. Right now it’s just nothing.”



Brenna pulled out foil-wrapped plates. “Chicken Marsala, roasted potatoes with red and yellow peppers, and green beans with almonds à la Grammy M.”



Francesca’s stomach growled. “Thanks for calling and suggesting this. I could use some company.”



“You could have come to the hacienda for dinner.”



Francesca shook her head. “That’s not the kind of company I need. Besides, you sounded like you were looking for an escape.”