All Summer Long (Fool's Gold #9)(38)

May led her into a shabby living room. The furniture should have been replaced years ago and the walls were in need of fresh paint. Still, the room was a happy place. There were family pictures everywhere, and fresh flowers. Dominique always loved fresh-cut flowers.

“I made us tea,” May said, taking a seat on the other end of the sofa and motioning to the old-fashioned silver tray she’d placed on the coffee table. “It seemed more an afternoon beverage than coffee.”

“Thank you,” Dominique said, taking the delicate cup and saucer May offered. She saw there were sliced lemon wedges, a small pitcher of milk, along with sugar in a bowl. Elegant, she thought, relaxing a little.

May was probably her age, Dominique thought. Perhaps a little younger. Pretty enough, with dark hair and bright, intelligent eyes. She obviously hadn’t tried to hold back time with injections or surgery. Dominique found that confusing, but perhaps ordinary people didn’t have the same pressure to be perfect. What would it feel like to not worry about her appearance? To simply not care about every new line, every added pound? She couldn’t imagine.

“How are you enjoying Fool’s Gold?” May asked.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t spent much time in small towns. The festival last weekend was interesting. I was surprised so many tourists came.” She sipped her tea, not sure what else to say. She desperately wanted to talk about her daughter, but didn’t know how to start.

A tall, handsome man walked into the room.

“Hey, Mom,” he said as he crossed to May. “I’m heading over to Annabelle’s.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Don’t expect me before morning.”

“I won’t.” May nodded at Dominique. “Shane, this is Charlie’s mother.”

Shane glanced at her, then smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dixon.”

“You, as well,” Dominique said, startled by the name. No one had called her Mrs. Dixon in years. Not since Dan had passed. She had always been Dominique Guérin, the celebrated. Not Dominique Dixon, Dan’s wife.

Shane murmured something in his mother’s ear, then left. May watched him go. “He’s engaged. My oldest, Rafe, was married a few weeks ago. Coming back to Fool’s Gold has been so happy for all of us.”

Dominique pressed her lips together, trying to hold in the words. But they had a life of their own and came out in a rush.

“Chantal hates me. She won’t have anything to do with me. I’ve been to her house several times, but she doesn’t answer the door. I tried to see her at the fire station, but there was an alarm and she left. I don’t know what to do.”

She stared at her tea, aware her eyes had that burning feeling again. Tears. She never gave in to tears. She’d danced with injuries that would have brought a linebacker to his knees and she’d never once let anyone suspect the pain. Why on earth would she cry now?

“How long have the two of you been estranged?” May asked quietly.

Estranged. What an odd word. “You’re suggesting we were once close and something happened,” Dominique said. “That’s not true. We’ve never been close.” She poured milk into her tea and stirred.

“Why not?”

“Many reasons. My work kept me traveling much of the time. I’m sure from the outside, the fame seems wonderful, but it’s difficult. Draining. When I was home, I had rehearsals, press. And my husband. I wanted to spend every moment I could with Dan.”

“Not your daughter?”

Dominique remembered what it had been like. “She had Dan. Chantal and her father were close.” Too close, in Dominique’s opinion. That man had worshipped his little girl. Sometimes she had wondered if he’d loved Chantal more than he’d loved her.

“That must have been a comfort to you,” May said. “Knowing he was there to take care of your little girl.”

“I was the star,” Dominique snapped. “I’m the one who was important. But it was always Charlie this and Charlie that. He called her Charlie when I named her Chantal.”

May smiled gently. “It must have been difficult to move between the stage and the regular world. To be a mother and a star. I would guess the lines blurred. But as I’m sure you know, it’s important to let our children shine.”

“Why? Chantal wasn’t like me.”

“But wasn’t she special to you?”

Dominique knew the correct answer was yes. Of course. Her child was everything, her world, her reason for being. “I’m not that kind of mother.”

“What kind?”

“The type who gives up everything. I wanted my life. My fans adored me. I danced for the president, for kings and queens. Was I supposed to give that up for a baby?”

“No. Not give it up. But Charlie is your daughter, not your staff. We have to be there for our children.”

Dominique desperately wanted to leave. Nothing about this conversation was comfortable. Still, she needed things to change and she didn’t know how.

“She’s an adult. She doesn’t need anything from me. She’s made that very clear.”

“Then you need to show her what you have to give.”

“She should be taking care of me!”

May studied her. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”