wasn’t exactly idle. Spence’s time was eaten up almost from the moment he walked into the college. He had his own schedule to study, associates to meet, instruments and sheet music to pore over. There was a faculty meeting, a hurried lunch in the lounge, and there were papers, dozens of papers to read and digest. It was a familiar routine, one that he had begun three years before when he’d taken a post at the Juilliard School. But like Freddie, he was the new kid in town, and it was up to him to make the adjustments.
He worried about her. At lunchtime he imagined her sitting in the school cafeteria, a room that smelled of peanut butter and waxy cartons of milk. She would be huddled at the end of a table scattered with crumbs, alone, miserable, while other children laughed and joked with their friends. He could see her at recess, standing apart and looking on longingly, while the others raced and shouted and climbed like spiders on jungle gyms. The trauma would leave her insecure and unhappy for the rest of her life.
All because he’d put her onto that damn yellow bus.
By the end of the day he was feeling as guilty as a child abuser, certain his little girl would come home in tears, devastated by the rigors of the first day of school. More than once he asked himself if Nina had been right all along. Perhaps he should have left well enough alone and stayed in New York, where at least Freddie had had friends and the familiar.
With his briefcase in one hand and his jacket slung over his shoulder, he started for home. It was hardly more than a mile, and the weather remained unseasonably warm. Until winter hit, he would take advantage of it and walk to and from campus.
He had already fallen in love with the town. There were pretty shops and rambling old houses all along the tree-lined main street. It was a college town and proud of it, but it was equally proud of its age and dignity. The street climbed, and here and there the sidewalk showed cracks where tree roots had undermined it. Though there were cars passing, it was quiet enough to hear the bark of a dog or the music from a radio. A woman weeding marigolds along her walkway looked up and waved at him. Cheered, Spence waved back.
She didn’t even know him, he thought. But she had waved. He looked forward to seeing her again, planting bulbs perhaps, or sweeping snow from her porch. He could smell chrysanthemums. For some reason that alone gave him a shot of pleasure.
No, he hadn’t made a mistake. He and Freddie belonged here. In less than a week it had become home.
He stopped on the curb to wait for a laboring sedan to pass, and glancing across the street saw the sign for The Fun House. It was perfect, Spence thought. The perfect name. It conjured up laughter and surprises, just as the window display with its building blocks, chubby-cheeked dolls and shiny red cars promised a childhood treasure trove. At the moment he could think of nothing he wanted more than to find something that would bring a smile to his daughter’s face.
You spoil her.
He could hear Nina’s voice clearly in his ears.
So what? Glancing quickly up and down the street, he crossed to the opposite curb. His little girl had walked onto the school bus as bravely as any soldier marching into battle. There was no harm in buying her a small medal.
The door jingled as he entered. There was a scent, as cheerful as the sound of the bells. Peppermint, he thought and smiled. It delighted him to hear the tinny strains of “The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down,” coming from the rear of the shop.
“I’ll be right with you.”
He had forgotten, Spence realized, how that voice could cruise along the air.
He wouldn’t make a fool of himself again. This time he was prepared for what she looked like, sounded like, smelled like. He had come in to buy a present for his daughter, not to flirt with the proprietor. Then he grinned into the face of a forlorn panda. There didn’t seem to be any law against doing both.
“I’m sure Bonnie will love it,” Natasha said as she carried the miniature carousel for her customer. “It’s a beautiful birthday present.”
“She saw it in here a few weeks ago and hasn’t been able to talk about anything else.” Bonnie’s grandmother tried not to grimace at the price. “I guess she’s old enough to take care of it.”
“Bonnie’s a very responsible girl,” Natasha went on, then spotted Spence at the counter. “I’ll be right with you.” The temperature of her voice dropped a cool twenty degrees.
“Take your time.” It annoyed him that his reaction to her should be so strong, while hers played tug-of-war at the opposite end of the spectrum. It was obvious she’d decided to dislike him. It might be interesting, Spence thought, while he watched her slender, capable hands wrap the carousel, to find out her reasons.
And change her mind.
“That’s 55.27, Mrs. Mortimer.”
“Oh no, dear, the price tag said 67.”
Natasha, who knew Mrs. Mortimer juggled expenses on a fixed income, only smiled. “I’m sorry. Didn’t I tell you it was on sale?”
“No.” Mrs. Mortimer let out a little breath of relief as she counted out bills. “Well, this must be my lucky day.”
“And Bonnie’s.” Natasha topped the gift with a pretty, celebratory pink bow, remembering it was Bonnie’s favorite color. “Be sure to tell her happy birthday.”
“I will.” The proud grandmother lifted her package. “I can’t wait to see her face when she opens this. Bye, Natasha.”
Natasha waited until the door closed. “May I help you with something?”
“That was a very nice thing to do.”
She lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” He had the absurd urge to take her hand and kiss it. It was incredible, he thought. He was almost thirty-five and tumbling into puppy love with a woman he barely knew. “I’d meant to come in before.”
“Oh? Was your daughter dissatisfied with her doll?”
“No, she loves it. It was just that I…” Good God, he was nearly stuttering. Five minutes with her, and he felt as awkward as a teenager at his first dance. He steadied himself with an effort. “I felt we’d gotten off on the wrong foot before. Should I apologize?”
“If you like.” Just because he looked appealing and a little awkward was no reason to go easy on him. “Did you come in only for that?”
“No.” His eyes darkened, just slightly. Noting it, Natasha wondered if she’d erred in her initial impression. Perhaps he wasn’t harmless, after all. There was something deeper in those eyes, stronger and more dangerous. What surprised her further was that she found it exciting.
Disgusted with herself, she gave him a polite smile. “Was there something else?”
“I wanted something for my daughter.” The hell with the gorgeous Russian princess, he thought. He had more important things to tend to.
“What was it you wanted for her?”
“I don’t know.” That was true enough. Setting down his briefcase, he glanced around the shop.
Unbending
