Chapter 2: One Dance

Nathan led Victoria past the tables, aware that he had forgotten everything he knew about dancing.

“Fair warning,” he said. “My daughter taught me the steps in our kitchen.”

“How recently?”

“Before I left.”

“That explains your confidence.”

“I didn’t say she was a good teacher.”

Victoria’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder. Nathan kept enough space between them that she could move away easily. She noticed; he could tell by the way she relaxed.

They found the rhythm after a few uncertain steps. Nathan knew people were watching, though he couldn’t imagine why. The bride had just married the man she loved. Surely the room had more interesting things to look at.

Victoria knew exactly why.

Charles stood near the bar with two development partners. Her mother watched from the front table. A hotel employee turned his head so quickly that Victoria almost smiled.

“You can still change your mind,” Nathan said.

“About the dance?”

“About trusting my daughter’s instruction.”

“I think I’ll risk it.”

He guided her around another couple. His hand was warm against hers, the skin beside his thumb marked by a pale scar.

“My father taught me to dance,” she said.

“In a ballroom?”

“In our kitchen. He moved the table aside and made me stand on his shoes.”

“How old were you?”

“Six, the first time. Sixteen, the last.” She looked past him at the band. “I was angry with him that day. I don’t even remember why.”

Nathan didn’t offer the easy reassurance that her father would have forgotten the argument. He simply stayed with the music.

Victoria looked back at him. “What did you and Emma practice?”

“She counted aloud and told me I was turning too late.”

“Was she right?”

“Usually.”

The song ended sooner than either expected. As they stepped apart, a few guests applauded for the band. Charles began making his way across the floor.

Victoria saw him coming and felt the old habit take hold: straighten her posture, prepare an answer, return to work.

Her mother reached them first.

“Victoria,” she said. “I thought you’d decided not to dance tonight.”

“I changed my mind.” Victoria turned. “Mom, this is Nathan Cole. Nathan, Eleanor Bennett.”

Eleanor shook his hand. Her grip was firm.

“You’re Daniel’s friend,” she said.

“He’s the reason I’m wearing these shoes.”

Before Eleanor could answer, the hotel’s general manager arrived with an anxious smile.

“Ms. Bennett, I’m sorry to interrupt. The bride’s parents wanted me to thank you for arranging the extra rooms. We’ve taken care of the guests who arrived late.”

“Thank you, Martin. Please tell them I’m glad everyone has a place to stay.”

Martin nodded and hurried off.

Nathan looked at Victoria, then at Eleanor. “Bennett,” he said.

Victoria held his gaze. “Yes.”

“As in the name over the front door?”

“My family owns this hotel.”

“And you run it?”

“I run the group.”

He thought back over their conversation. She worked in hotels. She was sometimes at this one. She had told him the truth and allowed him to misunderstand it.

Victoria waited for the change she knew so well. Nathan would apologize for his jokes, or ask her what she could do for him. Even a small adjustment in his voice would be enough to make her regret the dance.

Instead, he said, “You could have told me the coffee was yours.”

“It belongs to the hotel.”

“That sounds like an expensive way of saying yes.”

Eleanor gave an unexpected laugh.

Charles arrived at Victoria’s side. “The guests I mentioned are ready when you are.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” she said.

His eyes passed over Nathan’s worn cuffs. Nathan recognized the look. Charles had assessed him as quickly as a contractor judged a damaged floor.

Victoria recognized it too. “Charles, Nathan restores historic woodwork. You might have seen his work at Daniel’s house.”

“I haven’t,” Charles said.

“You should,” she replied.

Nathan appreciated the intention. He didn’t want Charles looking him up because of her.

“I’m going to get another cup of coffee,” Nathan said. “It was good meeting you, Mrs. Bennett.”

“Eleanor, please.”

Victoria walked with him to the edge of the ballroom.

“I should have told you,” she said.

“You told me your name. I failed to read the building.”

“People usually know before I meet them.”

“That must get old.”

“It does.”

They stopped near the coat check. He could see Charles waiting beside the ballroom doors.

“I’m glad I came tonight,” Nathan said.

“So am I.”

He wanted to ask when he could see her again. Then he imagined Emma waiting to hear about the wedding, Victoria returning to a room full of obligations, and himself standing there with a question she might feel pressed to answer.

“I should go,” he said.

Her expression flickered. “Emma?”

“She’ll be awake until she hears whether I stepped on anyone.”

“You didn’t.”

“I’ll tell her I have a witness.”

Victoria smiled. Nathan collected his coat and went downstairs.

By the time he reached his truck, snow had settled on the windshield. He sat for a minute with the engine running. He could still feel her hand in his. Then Emma called.

“Well?” she demanded.

“I danced.”

“With Daniel?”

“With a woman named Victoria.”

A pause. “Do you like her?”

Nathan watched a couple hurry beneath the hotel awning, laughing as snow caught in their hair.

“I think I do.”

Victoria stayed until the reception ended. She spoke with the development guests, checked on a service problem, and told her mother twice that she was fine.

At home, she found a cream place card tucked inside the evening bag she had barely opened. She had slipped it there during dinner without thinking.

Nathan Cole.

She placed it on her desk. Her phone held several messages from Charles about the next morning’s meeting. Victoria answered them, then looked at the card again.

At the wedding, Nathan had spoken to her as though she could leave when she wanted. She had nearly believed it.

Across town, Nathan hung up his jacket. Something stiff brushed his fingers inside the pocket. He pulled out a second place card.

Victoria Bennett.

He held it beneath the kitchen light. On the back, in blue ink, was a small mark shaped like a comma. He remembered her turning the card in her hands while they talked.

He could return it to the front desk.

Nathan set it beside his keys so he wouldn’t forget.