Dancing on a Moonbeam (Bedford Falls Book 1) (27 page)

On what would have been her twentieth anniversary, Charles texted her:
Heard about your dance studio. Just as well. I put too much money into the house for you to lose it over a bad business idea.

She deleted it the moment she read it and then called Robbie. When he picked up, she didn't even give him a chance to say "Hey" before she said, "I'm headed over."

He must have heard the determination in her voice, because he just said, "See you soon."

She went up to her room and opened the closet. Without thinking about it, she yanked the white dress out of the back and hauled it out to her car. Because it was necessary, she stopped at the gourmet store along the way and bought a small chocolate ganache cake.

Robbie lived ten minutes away. After high school, he'd gone away to college, but he'd returned after he got his degree and started working for a local landscape architect. It took him five years before he was ready to strike out on his own, but he'd been incredibly successful.

His home reflected that success. Eleanor was one of the few people who knew that he'd bought it inexpensively and taken his time to make it his own, inside and out. The house was gorgeous, an open design that was meant to bring the outdoors inside and not obstruct the surrounding nature.

But really it was what he'd done with the land that was amazing. It was both savage and manicured, calm and wild. Even in the late spring, the colors that bloomed were rich and striking.
 

As she pulled up, she realized that she hadn't spent very much time there over the years. Usually Robbie came over, or they met at Clara's café. She needed to come over more, she realized as she hefted her dress out of the car. It was a part of Robbie that she'd been neglecting, and that made her feel bad.

Robbie opened the door before she got to it. He eyed her first and then the bundle trailing behind her. "Are you eloping?"

Max's sexy grin flashed in her head, but she shook it to clear the image. "I decided what I wanted to do for my anniversary. I'm borrowing your fire pit."

"We're burning it?" he asked, perking up. "You sure? You really loved that dress."

"I'm positive." She handed him the cake. "And then we're going to have cake, because I didn't get any on my wedding day, and we're going to celebrate. You know why?"

"Why?" He closed the door and motioned to the kitchen.
 

"Because I'm taking back this day." She frowned at her best friend. "From now on, this day will be known as Freedom Day."

"I like it." He set the cake on the counter and rubbed his hands together. "I'm thinking I should make us celebratory cocktails. How do you feel about having a Boris Karloff?"

"Sounds excellent," she said, even though she had no idea what that was. "I'll take my dress outside."

He pulled out two martini glasses from the cabinet. "Meet you out there."

She went through the house, to the sliding doors that opened to the back patio. Robbie had built a huge stone fire pit in the middle, with seats arranged around it. There was also a large outdoor kitchen with a grill and mini refrigerator. Robbie only liked to cook when he could do it outside. But he pretty much felt that way about everything.

Charles and Robbie hadn't been the greatest of friends, so she hadn't been able to come over often for the occasional parties Robbie had. It made her sad now, that she'd neglected her best friend that way.

"You haven't gotten the fire ready," Robbie said, carrying a tray. On it there were two drinks with white foam on top and the small cake.

She took the dress off the hanger and set it in deliberately in the center of the pit. "Do you think I need kindling or anything?"

He made a face, setting the tray down. He held out a long-necked lighter to her. "I don't know. Want to try it without first? I can get newspaper if we need it."

She took the lighter and stared at the dress. She wondered if she should say something, but in the end there was nothing to say, so she leaned in and set fire to the tulle.
 

It lit with a strong
whoosh
, as though it was eager to go up in flames.

"Whoa," Robbie said, coming to stand next to her. He handed her one of the cocktails. "I didn't expect it to go up like parchment."

She hadn't either. She'd thought it'd resist a little, but in the end she supposed the dress wanted to wipe away all memories of that day too. Eleanor wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell. It was bittersweet, like scorched hopes and broken dreams, and it broke her heart all over again.

Robbie put his arm around her waist, and she leaned her head against him. "I'm going to be a better friend," she promised him.

"You're the very best of friends," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather indulge in pyromaniac behavior with."

"I brought cake."

"And we're going to eat it straight from the plate, with our fingers."
 

"Lily wouldn't recognize me if she saw that."

"Yes, she would." He studied her. "You're the Eleanor I met when I was a kid replanting flowers on the schoolyard. You lost your way for a while, but you're finding it again, and Lily will see that. Even if she's a brat."

Eleanor smiled. "Thanks for being my friend."

He held up his glass. "To friendship and freedom, and celebrating sweet life."

She clinked her glass to his. "And to letting go of the past."

Robbie nodded. "Fuck him, and fuck his mother."

She laughed, but the toast hit her hard. She couldn't let Charles and his mother win, even if at the moment she didn't know how she was going to turn everything around.

"Uh-oh," her best friend said. "The last time you got that look, I had to talk Principal Rogers out of giving us detention for a week."

Shaking her head, she sipped her drink. "No detention this time. I just realized I can't let them stop me from having my dance studio."

"Good girl, but it's more than that." He sat on one of the lounges, his feet up. "Be careful about falling into old patterns, especially with men."

Frowning, she sat next to him. "You think I'll find another fucker?"

"I think you're selfless, and you give away a lot of yourself," her best friend replied. "Like remember the magic tutu you bought for Amadeus Ravel Massimo?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not this again."

"Yes, this again, because it's important." He prodded her with his foot. "You bought him a tutu, but did you buy yourself one? You're the one who believes there's power in a tutu, so you give power away but you don't take any for yourself?"

Blinking, she let his words sink in. "You're right," she said after a long silence.
 

"I know. I'm smart."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"You'd look great in a blue one," Robbie suggested.

She took his hand. He was right—she'd look excellent in a fluffy blue tutu. But she wasn't sure why she'd wear one anymore.

Chapter 20

Max wrote down the last note and tossed the pen in the air. Done, and
done
. The score was officially recomposed.
 

Setting up his high-end microphone, he recorded himself playing through it once. Normally, he'd have gone to a sound studio and done it properly, but for now this was what Cohen was going to get. Duggan too—Max was going to make sure the director heard the score this time.

When he finished, he put the whole thing in a Dropbox and emailed the link to both men. Then he raised both fists in the air and did a victory lap around the piano.

But the way he really wanted to celebrate was with a kiss from Eleanor.

He hadn't heard from her since the night they'd stargazed, but that'd been his fault. He'd finally heard how the score needed to end and had been working nonstop to write it all down.
 

She hadn't texted either, but he figured she was giving him space to do his work.

He didn't want space any more. Actually, he wanted absolutely no space between her and him—just skin to skin, in his bed, for the entire afternoon.
 

There was only one way to make that happen.
 

He ran upstairs and took a quick shower. Then he put on the most seductive outfit he had, one guaranteed to make Eleanor come home with him: black silky boxers, a black T-shirt, and the red tutu she'd bought him.

He looked at himself in the mirror and winced. "I am not waxing my legs," he mumbled as he put shoes on. He ran his fingers through his hair and ran out the door and across their lawns.
 

Trotting up her porch steps, he rang Eleanor's doorbell.

There was the sound of steps coming from inside, and then the door flew open. Lily stood there, her eyes wide as she gaped at him.

Then she shrieked, slapping a hand over her eyes. "Oh my
God
. What are you
doing
?"

He stepped into the house and closed the door. "I came to see your mom."

"Oh my
God
," she cried again, backing away. "I'm never going to be able to
unsee
this! It's burned on my eyes
forever
!"

"What's going on?" Eleanor walked down the hall and stopped suddenly, taking Max's outfit in. Her gaze flew to his as her hand covered her mouth.

He pointed at her. "You are
not
allowed to laugh."

She shook her head. "Of course I'm not laughing," she said, though the light in her eyes said otherwise.

"Oh my
God
." Lily gaped back and forth between them. "You guys are dating, aren't you?"

"Not yet, but I'm here to ask your mom on an official date." He looked at the teenager. "Is that okay with you?"

"Like it matters?" She shook her head. As she walked away, she muttered, "Old people are crazy."

He waited until she was gone to face Eleanor. "This didn't go the way I'd planned."

"Are you saying you didn't mean to out my private life to my daughter?" she said, hands on her hips.

"Not my brightest moment." Wincing, he went up to her and slid his hands around her waist. "But I was excited about celebrating with you, and I slipped up. I'm sorry."

"Celebrating?" she asked.

"I finished my score. I turned it in." Smiling, he bent to kiss her quickly. "Obviously you're the one I want to celebrate with."

"I'm so happy for you, Max." She smiled, her hand resting on his chest. "Congratulations. I'm sure it turned out better than you ever thought."

Only there was an underlying sadness in her tone that puzzled him. He studied her but couldn't figure it out. "Did something happen?"

Tears filled her eyes, but she shook her head. "I don't want to dampen your celebration."

"It's not a celebration if you're unhappy." He rubbed her back. "Tell me, please. Maybe I can help."

She shook her head. "No one can help. My studio is officially dead in the water. There was a zoning restriction I didn't know about, but I was going to figure out a different way. Only I've spent all morning looking at other options, and it's impossible. I don't think I'm going to be able to open a dance studio."

He lowered his head so his eyes were level with hers. "You want a dance studio? We're going to make your dance studio happen. I promised, remember? You helped me with my music, and I'm going to help you figure this out."

"You're going back to Los Angeles. Besides, you didn't need my help." She looked away. "You did it all on your own."

"I needed you." He took her hand and pulled her to toward the front door.

"What are you doing?" she protested. "I don't have shoes on."

He picked her up in a fireman's carry over his shoulder and carted her across the yard to Liam's house. He took her inside, careful not to bump her head on the doorway. Striding straight to the piano, he set her down on the bench and sat next to her.
 

"Listen," he said, and then he began to play the music he'd composed for her.

He played it form his heart, his fingers sure over all the notes. He played her joy and her sorrow, her light and dark. He played with all the desire in his soul—for her and to show her how beautiful she was.