performing on a real historic stage.”
“Fine, fine. Just don’t spend any money.” Irene turned to Cy. “The scones-and-punch thing is only for today. We’ll have to provide them breakfast in here each morning, and dinner at six sharp. The rest of the time, they’ll be out and about. We’ll curtain off an area so they don’t see the mess you’re making. As soon as the breakfast dishes are cleared, you can hack away until it’s time to set for dinner, and then you disappear.”
He blinked. “Are you crazy? I can’t renovate in here in between breakfast and dinner. Painting, sanding, hammering...”
Irene’s face grew stony. “We’ll bring in fans to air out the paint smell. Feel free to work all night, if you must. You can bunk with Hollister.”
“You don’t understand,” Cy said. “I can’t do the job under these conditions.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she growled, cheeks flaming red. “We haven’t had a large group since I bought this tub. Now we’ve got a celebrity concierge waiting to see how this room turns out and a gaggle of ladies hungry for scones, and I’m not turning away a chance to get the River King on her feet. You make it work or you give me the sixteen thousand dollars right now and I hire someone else.”
He glowered. “Fine. I’ll write you a check.”
Piper’s stomach plummeted.
“You do that.” Irene’s tone became threatening. “And I will tell everyone I meet that Dollars and Sense Design walked out on the job.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I’ll post on Yelp.”
“You’re joking.”
“Not likely. I don’t have a sense of humor.”
Piper silently agreed. She held her breath.
“You’re asking me to do the impossible,” Cy said.
He spoke quietly, but something in his tone thrilled Piper. She saw a spark in his eyes, a determined uplift to his chin as he mulled it over. Doing the impossible. It appealed to him even though he could not currently see any light at the end.
What would it be like to believe everything would work out all right? That a person could prevail over any circumstance? The optimism tantalized her. It was silly, of course, a childish view that would only get him hurt.
Irene fixed Cy with a stare that could have blistered paint off the walls. “If it’s impossible, Mr. Franco, then you’d better get busy.”
After the door closed behind her, Cy stood still, staring at nothing.
Piper meant to tie the balloons and tiptoe away, ignoring the tug that seemed to suggest she should help. Help the guy who’d wanted to toss her uncle out? No way. She had things to do. Shows to organize.
Her sandal caught on a chair leg and she stumbled, letting go of the balloons. They drifted lazily up to the ceiling, well out of reach. She strained to catch them.
Cy didn’t hesitate. He put his hands around her waist and lifted.
She felt the press of his cheek into her back, the strong arms spanning her middle as he raised her up. Her heart began to jackhammer. His embrace rocketed her back in time, and she was lost in memories of laughter and love and joy, when she’d briefly believed in the impossible, too.
There was nothing to be done but snatch the ribbons as quickly as she could. She forced her shaking hands upward, gathering the fluttering strings in her cold fingers. He lowered her slowly to the ground.
She turned to face him, positive that her face was crimson.
He was close, so close. Something in his expression made her think the touch had upended emotions inside him, too.
He opened his mouth to speak, lips sweet and sensual.
“Here,” she said, thrusting the balloons at him and fleeing from the room.
HOURS LATER, CY smiled and chatted with the ladies who swarmed the reception room. Though his mouth made conversation, his mind was somewhere else, alternately poring over the details of the room and stewing over his reaction to Piper.
What had he been thinking? In fact, he hadn’t been. Touching her was pure reflex, and he was startled that his body had reacted without consulting his heart. Piper was not a part of his life, nor would she ever be again.
Run, remember, Cy?
He forced his mind back to the impossible task that he had every intention of finishing. The old vessel was once a king. It was Cy’s job to restore that proud monarchy. The River King had experienced so much, from Prohibition to the Great Depression to World War II. Which era to capture? Which moment in time should this room reflect?
Hollister Luis appeared, splendid in a pressed purser’s uniform shirt and freshly creased pants. He pumped a fist in the air. “Scones-and-punch reception. Nailed it.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“Oh, yeah. We’ve managed to book most of the outings the ladies were anticipating, in spite of the last-minute date change.” He smiled. “I’ve told Tita all about the decorating work, and she’s stoked, too.”
“Is Tita your girlfriend?”
He laughed. “Nah, Bonnie’s my girlfriend. She’s in dental hygienist school. Tita’s my grandmother. She’ll be ninety in two months.”
“Has she seen the place?”
A shadow crossed his face. “She’s blind, but I’ve told her all about the River King. She remembers sailing on a paddleboat as a kid.” His smile dimmed. “She’s in a home now. I couldn’t take care of her, go to school and work, too. I tell her everything about working here. Only...” He looked down.
“Only what?”
“I...kinda make it better when I tell her about it. In my stories, the River King is a jewel. That’s lying, but I just want her to be happy.”
“She’s important to you. I get that.”
“She’s the reason I’m still alive. I was a screw-up when I was a kid—an addict—and after my folks kicked me out, she took me in. Spent her life and her savings helping me get clean.”
“I’m sure she’s proud of you.”
“It’s hard to keep it all together, so I guess the stories I tell her about the River King make us both feel better. I mean, it’s cooler to work on a historic paddle wheel boat than a run-down, half-empty floating hotel. But the River King’s got such history. I’m going to write a book about her after I get my degree.” He sighed. “If I ever get it.”
He looked so sad. “Hollister, I’m going to make
