Page 48 of Positively, Penelope

“Well, fungus or not, I’m glad they’re growing on you.” She gave a curt nod. “Everyone could use a bit of fairy tales, especially grumpy pants like some people I know.”

“‘Grumpy pants’?”

“I call it like I see it.” But her giggle bubbled out in contrast. “Well, you’re not as grumpy as you were when we first met, so perhaps those fairy tales are working their magic on you.”

Perhaps she’d grown on him a little, too, with all her positivity and weirdness. She frowned. Maybe shewaskind of like a fungus. She shrugged a shoulder. At least some fungi were pretty.

He narrowed his eyes as if he were going to make some sort of grumpy retort, so she pushed ahead with her idea. “The Sound of Music.”

He stumbled a moment in the turn but regained his footing for the second beat. “What?”

“The Sound of Musicwould be a wonderful musical to perform during Christmastime.”

One of those indicative brows jutted skyward. “The Sound of Musicis not a Christmas musical.”

“Neither isPeter Panand you guys always perform it near Christmas.”

His frown returned.

“AndThe Sound of Musicis a perfect Christmassy musical.” She rushed ahead with her defense. “In fact, it has been a family tradition. My entire life I’ve counted onThe Sound of Musicplaying on television during the Christmas season every year.” She squeezed his hand. “Every year. It’s definitely a Christmas musical.”

“And what makes it so . . .Christmassy?” He repeated the last word with as much exaggeration as the best thespian. Aha, she was bringing out his dramatic side. Surely that would come in handy.

Penelope opened her mouth to respond but stopped. Whatdidmake it Christmassy? A myriad of images passed through her mind. “Brown paper packages tied up with strings”? No, that could be any type of present. Sleigh bells? Nearer the mark. Her bottom lip dropped into a smile and her gaze zeroed back in on her friendly adversary. “Well, doesn’t Julie Andrews make you immediately think of Christmas?”

Any tension around his pale eyes softened, gentling his gaze in such a way that she’d never realized how very stormy gray-blue they were. She’d never really been a fan of storms, unless it meant getting rescued in one by a charming hero, but stormy looked rather nice on him. She supposed if someone was going to have expressive eyebrows, they ought to have equally expressive eyes to go along with them.

“How can I argue with logic like that?”

“So I have your support?” She stopped moving and grabbed his other hand while still keeping hold of his left one. “About this stage and the touring group?”

His smile crooked and he tugged his hand from hers. “Well, I assume you’ve already gotten Grandfather’s blessing?”

She braced her hands behind her back and rocked forward, smile wide.

“Ah, I see you have.” He grinned and stepped forward, his fingers sweeping against the hair on her shoulder. “You still have dust in your hair from your adventures with the boxes.”

She looked down at her shoulder, a tingle running across the cloth of her blouse at his touch. Her gaze met his. “Thanks.”

His attention shifted over her face and hair, likely looking for more dust. But for some reason, she didn’t mind the dust so much.

“Let me know how I can help with all your grand plans. I don’tthink The Darling House could have asked for a more enthusiastic savior.”

Enthusiastic savior?Her breath caught at the sweetness of his sentiment. And if he hadn’t said it with such tenderness right after waltzing with her, she probably could have refrained from hugging him. But she didn’t. And promptly wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Matt!”

His body stiffened and she pushed back, offering an apologetic shrug. “Sorry about that. Just a little excited about the possibilities, that’s all.”

He stepped away from her and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to return to work now and let you finish your treasure hunting.”

The sweet glow left behind from the teasing conversation and lovely waltz dissipated, and she took a few steps toward his retreating frame. What had she done wrong? The fairy-tale talk? The touring company? “Matt.”

He paused on the first step off the stage and turned.

“You’re a fantastic dancer. I’ve seen a few videos in the archives of some of your classes.” She gestured toward the boxes. “I hope... well, I hope you can rediscover your joy. From all I’ve heard, it was a contagious sort of gift you had. The very best kind.”

He bent his head in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything else as he made the long walk up the carpeted aisle and out the door. She supposed dancing quite unexpectedly after such a long hiatus may have rattled him?

Penelope stared at the place from which he’d disappeared, offering up a little prayer for Matthias’s heart, and then scanned the rows and rows of vacant seats. Four box seats, specially designed with carvings on either side of the stage for the “best” spots in the house, seemed to stare back at her. Four box seats in the Lorianna Gray Theater. Hmm...

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