A Child Of Her Own. BEVERLY BARTON

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      “And what is Rick Warrick?” Lori Lee asked. “A sullen, brooding bad boy with no education. A blue-collar worker who lives in his sister’s garage apartment.”

      “Well, well, well. You know a bit more about Rick than you’ve let on.”

      “I overhear gossip from time to time.”

      Deanie dug out a couple of Pecan Sandies from the cookie box. “I hate to tell you this, friend of mine, but you sounded a lot like a snob just then. Aunt Birdie would be appalled that you think you’re too good for Rick.”

      “I don’t think I’m... It’s just that the last thing I need in my life right now is to get involved with a redneck tough guy. I run a business where I teach young girls. It’s important for me to have a good reputation.”

      “From what I’ve heard, Rick is working real hard at overcoming his old reputation.” Deanie munched on the cookie. “Although rumor has it that he’s been seen at the Watering Hole a few times, and he’s never been alone.”

      “I’m sure his taste in women hasn’t changed.” Reaching on the lower shelf, Lori Lee lifted the sweetener and creamer and placed them beside the coffee machine. “If I remember correctly, he always liked wild girls. The wilder the better.”

      “Yeah.” Deanie sighed. “Wonder what his wife was like? Do you suppose she was a wild woman?”

      “I can’t imagine Rick married to anyone. He was always too much of a free spirit.” Lori Lee poured two cups of coffee, adding sweetener and creamer to both, then handed Deanie a mug decorated with a bright, smiling sun.

      “Well, you know his sister, Eve, goes to church with us, and she’s been bringing Rick’s little girl to every service with her.” Deanie sipped her coffee. “She’s a gorgeous child. Looks a lot like Rick, except she’s fair where he’s dark. His wife must have been a blue-eyed blonde.”

      Rick shoved the basement door wide open. Deanie gasped. Lori Lee’s hands trembled.

      “Did you find the problem?” Lori Lee asked. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He’d removed his coat, leaving his tight navy sweater to accent every hard line in his upper torso. His faded jeans clung to his hips and cupped him snugly. Lori Lee swallowed.

      “Yeah, and it’s not good.” Rick placed his toolbox on the floor and dropped his coat on top of it. “I’m afraid your unit is a dinosaur. I could make some repairs to keep it going and charge you four or five hundred bucks, but I couldn’t guarantee it would last a month.”

      “I was afraid of that.” Lori Lee grimaced, thinking about telling Aunt Birdie that Rick Warrick would be replacing the old heating and cooling system for the studio. Her aunt owned both the building that housed the Dixie Twirlers and Lori Lee’s Sparkle and Shine costume shop next door. And her aunt was one of the two people who knew she’d once had a major crush on Rick.

      “I can work up an estimate tonight and drop it by sometime tomorrow,” Rick said.

      “Look, I’ve got to run.” Deanie waved goodbye. “Y’all don’t need me. I’ll call you. later, Lori Lee. Bye now.” Deanie kept waving all the way to the front door, then she giggled like an idiot as she slammed the door shut.

      “I wish I could remember her,” Rick said. “She seems real nice. Are you two friends?”

      “Best friends since we were kids. I’m her daughter Katie’s godmother.”

      “She was your best friend in school? The skinny little giggling redhead who was always with you?”

      “Then you do remember her. She keeps an auburn rinse on her hair now and she’s put on a few pounds, but she’s still the same giggling girl. She married Phil Webber. He was senior class president the year I graduated.”

      “She told me her daughter is one of your students.” Rick shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Are you taking any new students right now? I mean, I know it’s in the middle of the year and all.”

      “I take new students all the time,” Lori Lee told him. “I have classes for ages three to fourteen, and I give private lessons to older girls and to students who excel, or those who need a little extra help.”

      Rick glanced at the hot-pink mug she held in her hand. “Don’t let me keep you from drinking your coffee. It’ll get cold.”

      “Oh.” She had forgotten all about the mug until he reminded her. “Would you care for some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

      “It’d be too much trouble.”

      “Don’t be silly. Sit down. I’ll get you some.”

      Why had she invited him to stay? Why was she pouring him a cup of coffee? Had she lost her mind? A guy like this wouldn’t need much encouragement before he moved in and took over. She’d had sense enough at seventeen to steer clear of him. Why wasn’t she that smart now?

      “How do you take your coffee, Mr. Warrick?”

      “Black. And call me Rick.”

      She handed him a mug, being careful not to touch him. “Please do sit down.”

      When he sat on the sofa, she perched on the edge of the chair across from him. As they sipped their coffee, they stole quick glances at each other.

      “How much do you charge for lessons?” he asked.

      “I charge by the month. Two classes a week. The basic fee is thirty-five dollars, but that doesn’t include extras like costumes and—”

      “I’d like to enroll my daughter.” He took several gulps of the hot black liquid, then placed his mug on the metal-and-glass coffee table in front of him. “She’s six, in the first grade at Southside. I’d like for her to make friends with the kind of little girls I saw here today.”

      “Has she ever taken dance or baton lessons before?”

      “Nope. But I bought her a baton for Christmas a couple of years ago and she plays with it all the time.”

      “She would have to start out in the beginners’ class with our three-to-six-year-olds. When she begins to show progress, I’ll move her up into Twinkle Toes.”

      “She’s sort of shy, and I’m afraid she’ll turn out to be a loner like her old man. I don’t want that,” Rick said. “I’d like for her to fit in and be accepted.”

      The way I never was. He didn’t say the words, but Lori Lee knew what he meant. She hadn’t known much about Rick, except that he’d been shuffled from one foster home to another, and that his younger sister, Eve, had been adopted by a good family who hadn’t wanted Rick. No one had wanted the hellion he’d been back then.

      “What’s your daughter’s name?”

      “Darcie.”

      “Well, bring Darcie by the studio tomorrow afternoon so she can meet the other girls in the beginners’ class, and we’ll show her what twirling is all about.”

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