Page 50 of No Place Like Home
She nodded. “You could take a lesson sometime. Learn firsthand.”
“I’d love to, except I hear there’s no aerial studio in Magnolia Bay.” Hetsked. “Maybe one day, a beautiful, famous aerialist will happen upon the Bay and teach me.”
“Ha.” She stirred her tea faster. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Landry.”
And he was trying to get somewhere, wasn’t he? Bad idea.
“So what’s your happiest memory?”
He should’ve expected the return question. And no, he couldn’t answer with “seeing you walk into my office the other day.”
A server showed up to bus their table and Cade nodded his thanks, taking the opportunity to consider.
Then as the guy ambled away with a tub of plates, Cade knew. “I think I was maybe thirteen? I went fishing with my dad. He let me take a sip of beer if I promised not to tell Mom.” Cade chuckled. “It was disgusting and I immediately spat it in the bay. Dad laughed so loud.”
Rosalyn smiled softly. “That sounds fun.”
The memory washed over him, bringing the scent of salt water and sunscreen. “I didn’t have to try to be ‘on’ that afternoon, and I didn’t feel like he wanted me to. It was just us. No reputation to protect, no family name or legacy to safeguard.” Cade’s tone dropped. “We fished and hung out, no work allowed.” It’d been a rare afternoon—one that never got repeated, unfortunately.
“That’s nice.” Rosalyn’s voice trailed off, and she stared at something over his shoulder he knew wasn’t there. She was looking into time, and he desperately wanted to go with her.
“What is it?”
Rosalyn blinked, her gaze registering back on him. Cade held her gaze, waiting. Hoping she’d realized he could be trusted.
Just when he’d about given up, she spoke. “Like you, I was lovedandspoiled…but I was also taught to ‘hide my crazy.’ Going into aerial was a big deal for my mom—she hoped it was a stage that would pass, but she got proven wrong immediately.”
“Well, sure.” Cade settled back in his chair. “After all those rope climbs and inversions.”
“Exactly.” Rosalyn smiled, then it faded. “Listening to you talk about your dad made me remember this one day…I’d been doing aerial about six months. I came downstairs to show Mom my sparkly leo for my upcoming recital. She was outside with her garden club friends. I didn’t realize and burst out onto the patio. The women asked about my costume, and as I excitedly started to explain about the hip key skill I’d mastered, I saw the look on my mom’s face.” Rosalyn’s expression sank, and for a moment, Cade glimpsed the young girl she’d been.
“One of the ladies—I only remember she had bright red hair—said, ‘Rose, I thought you said she was taking ballet.’”
Cade grimaced. “Uh-oh.”
“Mom had to spin a quick tale about how aerial has elements of ballet in it and this lady must be confused. When the women cast each other these amused glances and made these behind-the-hand whispers, I realized Mom hadn’t told them. I think she was embarrassed about my choice to quit ballet and start aerial instead.” Rosalyn bit her lower lip. “Maybe embarrassed about me too.”
Cade reached out, took her hand. Her fingers closed into his. “I’m sure that wasn’t it.”
“Trust me, that’s only one entry from my teenage journal.” Rosalyn laughed. “I decided I had to get good, fast, to make her proud. And I did.” She pursed her lips. “But I’m not sure she ever was.”
Her fingers were soft and chilled against his warmer ones. He squeezed a little tighter. “But she supported you, right? You said she drove you into New Orleans for lessons for years until you got your license.”
“Well, yeah. But she had to.” Rosalyn shrugged. “I’m sure it was mostly obligation at that point.”
Cade hated the lost look in her eyes. “What made you start ballet in the first place? Was that something your mom wanted you to do?”
“Yeah, I was introverted as a kid. Content to stay in my room and read to my stuffed animals.” She shook her head with a laugh. “Mom was a social butterfly, with all her garden clubs and fundraising committees. I think she thought I needed to be like that…needed ‘real friends.’”
“So she dragged you to ballet?”
“Kickin’ and screamin’—internally, at least. But I wanted to please her, so I didn’t actually put up a fight.” A small smile claimed her lips. “Then I met Lettie and I really tried to like ballet, because I likedherso much.”
“But it still didn’t stick.” Cade nodded.
“I told you I wasn’t good at it. We had a recital, and my mom was so excited—gosh, she spent so much money on my hair and makeup, new slippers, the works.” Rosalyn winced. “And I totally bombed.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
