“Oh, come on. I’m small town, but not that small. Did you get a married vibe from him?”
“Shannon, you are a piece of work. No one has a married vibe.”
“Some people do. I do.”
Even though both Shannon and her husband wore rings, they did have an “I’m married don’t mess with me” vibe. Some people did have that kind of way about them. “Fine. If I had to guess, I’d say he was single.”
“Then he would be perfect.” Opening another tub, Shannon smiled. “Ah, here we go. These are going to be sublime for my little snowflakes. Help me count, would you?”
Kimber pulled one of the costumes up. The white leotards were embellished with silver sequins and rhinestones through the midsection. Wide silver and white ribbons were attached to the side seams, then trailed down for a good eight inches. No doubt the ribbons would flutter in the air every time a dancer moved. “These are really pretty.”
“Thanks. My mother made them. She’s the best.” Shannon carefully shook each one and laid it neatly on the floor around her. “We’ll have to put Traci on it. She can look him up.”
“Wait . . . Why not Dylan?”
“He’s not the type of guy to get into that. He’d say I was meddling and wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell him that I was only looking out for you.” She rested on her knees. “Did you count twenty?”
“Only seventeen.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. I’m going to have to order more—my mom’s on a river cruise in Europe.”
Shannon looked so put out by that, Kimber chuckled. “Do you even know where to order dance costumes from?”
“Of course. Dancer’s Warehouse.” She pursed her lips. “I mean, I’m pretty sure they have costumes for little girls. If not I’m going to have to do more hunting tonight.”
Comments like that were why Kimber felt like she needed to help Shannon out as much as possible. “Girl, you need help.”
“I know. I love to dance and I love to teach dancing. But all this other stuff? It’s overwhelming as all get out.” She shrugged. “But what can I do? I’ve got a building to pay off.”
“You can ask your sister to help you with the payments. And for the record, I’m talking about me, not Traci.”
Shannon’s eyes got big. “I can’t ask that of you. You’re busy.”
“I’m not that busy. Plus, you know I can pay for things.”
“No way. I don’t want your money.”
“I have money to spare. And . . . I could also be your assistant.”
“You don’t have that kind of time.”
“I do, and you know I do.”
Looking around at the pink fluff surrounding them, Shannon blew out a burst of air. “Then I accept. But be warned. Being in my studio means you’re going to be surrounded by teenage girls and ballroom dancers.”
“I promise. I’ve already figured that one out. As long as you don’t make me start tap dancing, it’s all good.”
CHAPTER 5
the nutcracker: Clara’s new toy that comes to life. He is magically transformed into a handsome prince and accompanies Clara on her adventure.
Gunnar couldn’t look away as the contractor at the front of the long line he was in pulled an attitude with Suzanne, the clerk who was in charge of approving building permits. No matter what she said, the contractor argued with her. They were loud too. Loud enough to be clearly heard over the canned Christmas music playing throughout the building.
Usually that kind of thing pissed him off. He didn’t like to waste time and he really didn’t like to watch idiots self-implode.
But it was bitter cold outside and spitting snow. At least here inside the county office it was warm, and there was a good sandwich shop next door. As soon as he got his paperwork finished he was going to grab a cup of soup and a roast beef sandwich.
Plus, he wasn’t the only person in the room watching the interaction with interest. The other eight or so men and women were focused on the argument as well. Who could blame any of them? Suzanne was as grizzled as any of them and didn’t put up with much. Besides, the contractor was a real bonehead.
“My money’s on the clerk,” Hodges said behind him.
Gunnar grinned. “Well, yeah. Of course Suzanne is going to win—she doesn’t put up with much. No, I’m thinking the bet needs to be on when she’s going to win, not if.”
“I say less than four minutes,” the woman in front of Gunnar said. “Suzanne is beginning show signs of irritation. She’s repositioned her glasses twice now.”
“I’m going with eight minutes,” Gunnar said. “Suzanne looks like she’s playing with him the way a cat tortures a mouse.” Lowering his voice, he added, “I think this is her fun.”
Hodges and his partner jumped in. Each made a bets, one declaring that Suzanne was about to call for security within two minutes, the other saying that he didn’t think the clerk took anything personally and she was just slow.
As the clock ticked, they all watched intently—even the old guy at the end of the line who seemed like he didn’t hold with the way they were joking around.
And then . . . six minutes later, Suzanne pointed to the door and the arguing dude slumped out, looking equal parts ticked off and dejected.
Hodges and his partner had just whistled low when Suzanne focused on the lot of them and glared.
That shut all of them down immediately. Everyone knew better than to piss off Suzanne. As she’d just illustrated, she could make a person’s life quite difficult—bring an entire construction project to screeching to an abrupt halt.
“Next!” Suzanne called out.
The woman in front of Gunnar stepped right up and presented her file. Two minutes later, Gunnar did the same.
Suzanne, all hard lines and silver hair, held out a hand. “Sounded to me like you were having yourself a good old time in line, Mr. Law.”
“I didn’t mean anything. No disrespect intended, ma’am.”
“Uh-huh.”
Gunnar decided to keep his mouth shut then, only speaking when she asked him questions.
Finally, with a long-suffering sigh, Suzanne stamped his paperwork and handed it back to him. “You have a good day now.”
“You too, ma’am. I sure appreciate your help.”
She half rolled her eyes at his good boy act. “Next!”