Page 55 of Positively, Penelope

If the team agrees.

But Grandpa Gray said yes.

Penelope

PS: Can you imagine Iris dressed for the ball? Oh, I hope Matthias will let me curl her hair.

PPS: I have no ball gown, but I was able to find a dress for my date with Alec (in the castle, in case you forgot).

***

Dani took the position with a nod and handshake, appreciation clear in his eyes. He’d deserved to be on salary a long time ago for all the work he did bringing actors to The Darling.

It was one of the best feelings Matt had experienced in a long time. Right and good.

Matt hadn’t realized the full extent of work Dani did for The Darling House in his spare time. Somehow, he and his wife kept recruiting actors from the community and steering them toward The Darling House despite Emblem’s intention to steal away as many as possible. And Dani had done all of that work on a meager stipend. Imagine what the man could do full-time! Why had it taken Matt so long to step back into his relationships with these people he’d grown up knowing? Had he truly allowed the grief of his loss and humiliation to steal his time with these people?

He’d slowly been stepping back into relationships for months, but Penelope’s presence spurred him into relationships, dance, joy... dreams.

He frowned. And he had been avoiding her for two days. Admitting it would make him sound immature and ridiculous, but the truth of the matter was, he hadn’t realized two very unexpected things:

One, how much he missed dancing.

And two, when she’d hugged him, something inside him broke,then came back together. That singular moment reawakened something in him for . . . He closed his eyes and shook away the thought. No, he wouldn’t entertain that particular thought, and certainly not with a woman who was moving back to America in two months’ time.

But he’d held his love of dance and family close for years—trusted in their beauty and consistency—until Deirdre shattered them. His sweetest dreams. She’d distorted both of them in one fell swoop, leaving his grieving heart to sift through the pieces for some semblance of hope. He’d never cared for spotlights or riches. His heart turned toward simpler dreams. Simpler didn’t mean less costly; in fact, the dearest dreams came with the highest price.

Yes, he’d begun to heal, to make it to the other side of suspicion. To live above the wisps of grief stitched into unexpected moments and memories. To trust again.

And then he’d seen Penelope with Mr.Westing.

All the feelings of betrayal resurrected, reminding him of the risk and cost of fairy tales and daydreams. Penelope had seemed so different. Honest. Authentic. Generous with her heart and her time. Had it all been a ploy, much like a six-year marriage where he’d been the one to sacrifice his time and desires for his ex-wife’s dreams, moods, and whims?

Or had Penelope fallen prey to the temptation of something better?

He shouldn’t take it personally. After all, Emblem Studios could offer much more than Darling, but the wound knifed deep. With a growl, he steeled his emotions against the hurt.

He steered his car out of Mountcaster, thankful Gwynn had been willing to take Iris home since he stayed late to meet with some of the board members about ways to reach possible new donors.

A light rain misted the front of his car and caused the streetlamps’ glow to reflect against the dark street.

Suddenly, a flash of something on the side of the road caught his attention. A cyclist? In this weather? He slowed. Who on earth would ride their bicycle at dusk through the—

A flash of a red skirt flapped into the glow of his headlamps, and he slowed even more, pulling nearer the cyclist. Penelope glanced toward him and, upon recognition, her smile flashed wide. After being so crowded only a moment earlier, his mind drew completely blank. How did one respond to the simple fact that the woman was crazy?

He blinked. Well, that explained a great deal, didn’t it?

He passed her and then pulled over on the side of the road, snatching his umbrella from the passenger seat before exiting the car.

“What are you doing?” He opened his umbrella and marched toward her.

She skidded to a stop just behind his car and looked up at him with those wide eyes of hers. “What do you mean?”

“It’s raining.” He held the umbrella over her head as if to prove his point. “You should have let me know you were biking home and I would have given you a ride.”

“But it’s not raining all that much.” She looked upward and then back at him, her smile so inviting he just couldn’t place her as a betrayer at all. “And I decided I could not only sing in the rain, I could cycle in the rain too.”

Her light laugh bounced through the space between them.

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