A Fool's Gold Christmas (Fool's Gold #9.5)(52)

Evie’s stomach contracted. “No. It’s at the high school.”

“It was at the high school. But there isn’t enough seating. This was all decided months ago. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“No.” She had a feeling Miss Monica knew, but that was just one more detail the dance instructor hadn’t shared when she’d run off with her gentleman friend. “Wait. The adoption is there. How will there be room?”

“It’s a big convention center,” Gideon told her. “There’s room.”

She promised to hurry and raced to her car. It only took a few minutes to drive to the convention center. As she waited at one of the few stoplights in town, she tried to recall the conversations she’d had with her students. Now that she thought about it, she’d always talked about the stage. She’d meant the one at the high school but hadn’t been specific. No wonder no one had corrected her. They hadn’t known she was wrong.

She pulled into the convention center parking lot and stopped at the entrance that had a large pickup truck in front of it. It looked like the sort of vehicle Gideon would drive. She grabbed her bag and paperwork and raced inside.

Sure enough, a big stage had been set up, and there were rows and rows of chairs.

“Oh, no,” she said, coming to a stop and staring at the empty seats. “There has to be room for at least a couple of thousand people.”

“Three thousand, two hundred,” Gideon said, strolling up to greet her. “Mayor Marsha is convinced the program is going to be a success.”

“That’s too many people. My girls will freak. I would freak if it were me.”

“They’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one doing the dances.”

She was still trying to process the change in venue. All this time she’d had the high school auditorium in her head. Why had no one mentioned the convention center?

“Look at it this way,” Gideon said with a wink. “At least you won’t have far to go after the pet adoption.”

“I’m going to throw up.”

Gideon held up both hands and took a step back. “No reason for that to happen. Take a deep breath. In for the count of four, hold for the count of four, exhale for the count of four.”

She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a breathing exercise. You work up to a count of ten or twelve, but that takes practice.”

“Seriously?”

Gideon surprised her by winking. “I have mysterious depths.”

“Apparently.”

He was casually dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She studied the part of the tattoo visible on his forearm and then looked into his dark, unreadable eyes. She could imagine Gideon doing a lot of things. Holding a gun, giving orders, riding a motorcycle, but she couldn’t picture him on a yoga mat practicing his breathing.

“Ex-military?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

Despite the three thousand, two hundred empty seats and the incredible list of things she had to get through between this moment and the performance, she laughed. “Because if you told me, you’d have to kill me?”

“Something like that.” He shrugged. “I’ve been places and done things. One day I decided I was done. When my tour ended I went looking for a way to make peace. With myself, at least, and maybe the world. I ended up in a shack in Bali.”

“Bali? Not Tibet?”

“I’m more a beach guy.”

“Nice work if you can get it.”

“There was a teacher there. He taught me—”

For a second something flashed through Gideon’s eyes. Evie couldn’t say what it was, but she would swear there was pain involved. Something cold and ugly that made her shiver. Then he blinked and it was gone.

“He taught me how to keep on moving forward,” Gideon continued. “When I left, I remembered a buddy of mine talking about this place. He grew up here, and when he talked about home, he made it sound like the only place worth living.”

“Who was the guy?”

“Ford Hendrix.”

“Oh. I know who he is. Well, not him, but his sisters.” She laughed. “Did he also tell you that living in this town is like trying to put a puzzle together? I wonder if I’ll ever get all the names straight. But I think my mom knows his mom. But he’s not here.”

“He’s still serving. He’ll be back soon.”

She thought about asking “back from where,” but reality returned in the form of all those empty chairs and a ball of panic bouncing off the walls of her stomach.

“Did I already mention I think I’m going to throw up?”

“Yes, but now I don’t believe you.”

“Fine. Risk your shoes. See if I care.” She shook her head. “Okay. I’m focusing. The changes in the script for the narration are great. I love them.” She pulled several sheets of paper out of her handbag and shuffled through them. “I want to make sure we’re on target with the transitions of the dancers. I’ve marked this copy with where I think the girls will be moving on and off the stage.”

He moved close and studied the pages. “Sure. I see what you’re doing. So you want me to pause until everyone is off stage before starting?”