Season of Change(41)
“In the closet,” Slade repeated in a raspy voice he didn’t recognize.
“That’s where shoe racks go.” Christine tossed her long hair over her shoulder, pulling his attention to safety, if staring at her as if he’d just seen a ghost could be called safe. The skin between her brows puckered. “We don’t have to do this. Team building was your idea.”
His palm pressed against the knot of his tie. He made a noncommittal sound. The kind of sound a man makes when he can’t decide whether to stand his ground or flee.
Christine reached into the closet and pulled out several plastic storage bags with colorful gowns. She tossed them onto the bed.
As if magnetized, the twins pushed past him and sped toward the dresses.
Christine noticed their interest. “You can try them on, if you like. This team building may take a while.”
Faith and Grace exchanged glances. Slade ignored his light-headedness, ignored the closet, ignored the past, and focused on the twins. They were enjoying themselves. He had to pull himself together.
“The bathroom across the hall can be your dressing room.” Christine turned on the sparkle, but not even Christine’s joyful attitude elicited a response from the twins. “But since those are my dresses, you’ll have to come out after each costume change and show us. Let’s just stay away from the strapless gowns. Those are in the black bag.”
While he tried to work up the courage to face the task ahead—thinking about Christine’s elegant shoulders in a white strapless gown helped—the twins exchanged glances again and then dragged the heavy dresses out of the room.
Slade stepped aside so Christine could follow them across the hall. She hung the garment bags on the shower curtain and unzipped them. “Let me know if you need help.” She closed the twins in the bathroom.
“That was very gracious of you.” Slade leaned against the wall, trying to appear as if it wasn’t holding him up. “I hope they won’t ruin anything.”
She shrugged. “I don’t plan on wearing them again.”
“You’ve converted to T-shirts permanently?” He could stand and talk so long as he kept his back to the closet.
Christine shoved boxes farther away from the closet. “Dresses like that can’t be worn more than once or twice in social circles around the wine business, unlike shoes.”
“That makes shoes a better investment.” He couldn’t seem to loosen his grip on his tie. Slade risked a glance at the closet and then away. He shored himself up against the wall.
“Don’t ever say I’m not training you right for some lucky woman who loves shoes.”
Ignoring where that comment led him, he moved to the bureau, ostensibly to look at her pictures. Reality was, he needed to put as much space as he could between himself and the open closet.
He picked up a framed photo. Christine smiled triumphantly with three blond men and stacks of what looked like T-shirts.
The scent of vanilla heralded Christine. She leaned closer. “That’s my brother, my uncle, and my dad. I won the contest that year.”
The next picture was of Christine holding a crystal trophy and a bottle of wine. Her smile seemed brighter than the crystal.
“Best in class that year at the World’s.”