"She prefers Cynthia."
"I know."
Arabella chuckled, thankful she'd gotten her warped sense of humor from her mother.
"I . . . well, I thought you might consider buying it and moving back here? Anyway, I wanted to give you a heads-up. You might not have until Christmas."
"Thanks, Mom. I'll talk to Dad about it."
"You didn't hear it from me!"
"Okay, I understand. Mum's the word."
"I thought grease was the word."
"Great, now I've got that song in my head."
"Me too! Wait, just switched to ‘Greased Lightning.' "
"Go, greased lightning!" Arabella laughed again, remembering how she used to love doing the movie's finger-pointing, heel-tapping dance with Granny York. "Hey, I hope you and Joe have a great time on the cruise. Take lots of pictures, okay?" Arabella forced a heavy dose of false cheerfulness into her tone.
"You know I'm famous for cutting off heads and putting my finger over the lens in photos."
"True." Arabella had to laugh.
"But Joe bought a fancy new camera and he's been playing with it for weeks. Strange that there's no film involved." Her mother, a former florist, wasn't a fan of technology, but Joe, a retired science teacher, loved getting every new gadget on the market. "Did you know that Joe bought me a round robot vacuum sweeper?"
"I didn't know that," Arabella said, and had to smile.
"Scares the daylights out of the cat. And I'm perfectly capable of sweeping the rug."
"Sounds like Joe is just trying to pamper you."
///
"Well, what am I supposed to do with my free time?"
"Go on a cruise. Relax and have lots of fun."
"Joe says that's the plan."
"A good one. Tell Joe to take tons of pictures."
"I will. I love you, Bella."
"I love you too." Arabella smiled at her mother's enthusiasm, but after ending the call she suddenly felt like crying. Oh, maybe she should just chuck it all, buy her granny's house, and move back to Cincinnati. She could open a small dance studio, spend more time with her mother and good old Joe. Maybe meet someone? Start a family?
The ache in her chest intensified at the thought of holding her child in her arms. Perhaps it was time to make some big changes in her life. . . .
Damn, she needed a hug. She needed lunch. She needed a giant sugar cookie, her grandmother's house, and an unexpected miracle.
CHAPTER THREE
JUST DANCE
Trying to avoid the burning pain of the blister plaguing his left heel, Grady performed a lopsided spin move, which made him crash into Jesse.
"Dammit, Grady!" Jesse tumbled to the floor, slid on his ass for about four feet, and thudded against the wall. With an angry grunt, he rolled onto his back and grabbed his knee. "What the hell was that bullshit?"
"Sorry," Grady said. "I've got this damned blister and-"
"A blister?" Oliver shouted over the music. "Are you fucking kidding me? I remember when you performed at Madison Square Garden with a pulled groin muscle."
"A little bit of medical marijuana helped that night."
"There wasn't medical marijuana back then," Oliver said.
Grady shrugged. "What can I say? I was ahead of the game."
"You got any with you now?" Jesse asked, drawing a dark scowl from Oliver. "You know, for my knee," he clarified.
"No way!" Oliver turned the music off. "You jokers can't even do the moves sober. You sure as hell can't perform high."
"You might be surprised." Grady chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "What the hell, Oliver. Loosen up a little."
"We're not smoking pot," Oliver shouted. He looked over at Jimmy. "You gonna help me out here?"
"I got nothing," Jimmy replied.
"Relax, I don't have any damned pot," Grady said. "I was only kidding."
"Well, stop it and get serious." Oliver pointed at Jesse. "Get up, you big-ass wimp."
"My ass isn't big. Is it? Tell the truth."
Grady looked over at Jimmy, who stood with his arms crossed, silently watching the antics.
"It was Grady's fault!" Jesse protested. "He smacked into me in the middle of a spin. And a pretty sweet one too."
"I really do have a blister the size of Alaska." Grady tugged his shoe and sock off. "See?" He pointed to the evidence and grimaced.
" ‘I have a blister!' " Oliver mocked in a high-pitched tone. "Cry me a river." He pretended to play the violin. " ‘My knee hurts! Whaa-whaa-whaa.' "