A Fool's Gold Christmas (Fool's Gold #9.5)(21)

Dante nodded. “I’m glad you recognize that.”

“Technically I don’t work for him,” Rafe pointed out. “I work with him.”

“I’m with Shane,” Clay said. He was sprawled in the big recliner with the best view of the big screen. Not that the TV was on. “So I don’t come to your meetings.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” Dante told him.

It was shortly after noon on Tuesday. Rafe had been working from home. As Shane’s horses were on his property next to his brother’s, getting him over to Rafe’s house had been easy enough. Clay had texted he was available, as well, so here they all were.

“This Saturday is a work party. Charlie and Patience are setting it up.”

“Patience?” Rafe asked. “Do I know her?”

“She’s a hair stylist,” Clay said. “Friends with Charlie, Heidi and Annabelle. You’ve met her.”

“I don’t think so,” Rafe said, then glanced back at Dante. “But, okay. What does Patience have to do with anything?”

Dante groaned. “The point is the work party.”

“What’s it for?” Shane asked.

“Your sister.”

The three brothers stared at him blankly.

“I thought she was renting her townhouse,” Clay said. “What does she need help with?”

“The sets,” Dante told them.

“Sets of what?” Rafe asked.

Dante had unexpected empathy for the women in his life who, from time to time, had stared at him like he was the stupidest man on earth.

“The sets for the dance.”

Shane frowned. “Evie’s going to a school dance?”

“The Dance of the Winter King, you morons. Your sister teaches dance. There’s a performance on Christmas Eve. The manager of the school took off, leaving Evie in charge of everything. This is a big deal to the town, and she has to make it happen. The sets for the production are in bad shape. There’s going to be a work party to refurbish them, and you will all be there to help.”

The brothers looked at each other and then back at Dante.

“Sure,” Shane said. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Dante sank into the chair behind him and rested his head in his hands. “It’s too early for a beer, right?”

Rafe chuckled. “Don’t sweat it. Of course we’ll be there. When is it?”

“Saturday.” Dante told them where to be. “Bring tools and paintbrushes.” He raised his head. “Let me be clear. There won’t be any excuses and you will be on time. You’ll work hard, be cooperative and not do anything to upset your sister. Oh, and while I have you here, this is where I tell you that you will also be attending the performance. Got it?”

“Of course we’ll be there,” Rafe said, shifting in his seat. “We, ah, were always going to come.”

“Right.” Dante scowled at him. “You’re a crappy liar.”

“I know, but that makes me a good business partner.” Rafe drew in a breath. “Thanks for looking out for her.”

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

THE FIFTEEN OR SO GIRLS were crowded around Evie’s laptop, watching the DVD of the performance from three years ago.

“This is the part I was talking about,” Evie said. “Until that last four-count, the dance is beautiful. See how everyone moves together? Then it comes to an end and there are three beats of nothing, followed by everyone clomping off the stage.”

Melissa Sutton turned to Evie. “Do you really think they clomped?”

“I’m sure not in their hearts, but that’s what it looks like.” She walked away from the group, exaggerating her steps so she sounded more like an elephant than a dancer.

The girls all laughed.

“So we need something different,” Evie said. “Something more lyrical.”

Fifteen pairs of eyes watched her anxiously, both excited and a little nervous.

Her other classes were divided by age, skill level and style of dance. She had the six-year-olds who were awkward but adorable. The beginning class in tap and ballet for seven- to eleven-year-olds was popular. She taught one clog dancing class, several in modern dance. There were classes for those near-teens, who had several years of experience, and finally a ballet class for one group of serious students. Then there was this group—fifteen girls of all ages and abilities who were new to dance.

Melissa Sutton was the oldest, at fifteen. Her younger sister Abby was also in the class. The rest were around twelve or thirteen. The girls were tall, short and everything in between. A few were here because they had weight problems, and their pediatrician had suggested dance as a way to get exercise. None of them had any experience, and most lacked a sense of rhythm. But they were fun and enthused and Evie enjoyed teaching them. They were already nervous about the performance, and she wasn’t looking to increase their anxiety.

“I thought we would try something simple. Who here has seen Swan Lake?”

A few of the girls raised their hands.

Evie walked over to her computer and changed the DVDs. “There’s something called ‘Pas de Quartre of the Small Swans.’ It’s four dancers together. I thought we could do something like that, but in groups of five.”