Be Mine Forever (A St. Helena Vineyard Novel) by Marina Adair Page A

jobs.”
    “She’s babysat Holly a time or two,” ChiChi added.
    “Stan said your car was still out of commission, so if you need anything,” Lucinda Baudouin said, placing a pudgy white ball of fluff with whiskers and a black necktie on the bench next to her. The woman was all bony limbs and sharp edges. Mr. Puffins, the cat, was all fur and attitude. “A ride to work, groceries, dinner, doesn’t matter the time, just call.”
    Her offer reminded Sara of a similar visit, last summer, when the same three ladies showed up on her doorstep, burnt almond cake and a bottle of homemade angelica in hand, for a welcome-to-the-neighborhood visit. Three hours later, a blubbering Sara was inducted into St. Helena’s Widowed Warriors, Cooper had gained three surrogate grannies, and she’d somehow been swindled into adding Swinging Singles Socials to her schedule.
    Part dance class, part speed dating, and open to everyone who was old enough to buy a glass of wine, it was the studio’s most popular class, besides Pole Dancing.
    “And I will have Trey stop by for a neighborly visit of his own to fix you right up,” ChiChi added with a wink.
    “He’s quite handy,” Pricilla said.
    Sara could just imagine how handy Trey could be, especially with the female sector of town. One shake of that underwear-model posterior and anyone with a set of boobs would be lining up to test the equipment. The new adventurous side of her wanted to make that call. Then the intelligent, more realistic side piped up, reminding her that sexy stud muffins and widowed single mothers played in vastly different leagues.
    “That’s nice of you, but I don’t need any fixing up.” Three sets of silvered brows rose above the rims of their glasses. “Tonight, I am the instructor and you are the single ladies. Now, would someone like to explain why you’re here,” she glanced at her watch, “twenty minutes before class starts?”
    “We’re here on official business,” Pricilla said, her round face flush with excitement. “And to solve your problem.”
    “Could you narrow down which problem you are referring to?”
    “You need more students,” Pricilla said. “Students who don’t require a doctor’s clearance before they can join your classes.”
    Did she ever.
    Sara had walked away from a prestigious yet demanding position as a professor of dance and creative movement at the University of San Diego with dreams of opening a children’s dance academy here, in a town that embodied the close-knit community she craved for her son. Teaching at a less-competitive level would give her more time with Cooper, and her son the kind of life he needed. One that didn’t include day care and nannies. In theory, it had seemed like the smart choice.
    Too bad theory didn’t always translate well into reality. As it was now, Sara spent more evenings at the studio teaching senior classes and doing paperwork than at home reading bedtime stories.
    “You have any ideas?” She had exhausted all of hers.
    She knew growing her school would be a slow process, so she gave herself a year to make it happen. But when summer had turned to fall and fall to winter, and Tap and Barre School of Dance was still in serious lack of tot-size students, Sara had become nervous. If she didn’t get some students who didn’t require girdles and evening classes soon, she was looking at financial trouble on top of everything else.
    “The Winter Garden Gala is in desperate need of spicing up,” Pricilla said, leaning closer. Sara got a heavenly whiff of vanilla and tannins. The woman always smelled like cookies—and wine. “We want you to provide the opening entertainment.”
    “Are you serious?” Sara said. Butt firmly on the bench.
    Providing the opening entertainment for the biggest social dance of the year was exactly the kind of exposure her studio needed. It would give her visibility, community approval, and something tangible for her to point to when mothers came in asking