Page 9 of To Steal a Heart

A wry grin tugged at a corner of Arden’s mouth. “Maybe I will.”

“I’m serious about forgiveness. It’ll free you.”

“Since when did you become Miss Religious?” Arden spouted.

“Since I started attending church with Talon and Effie. You should go with us sometime when you’re home. A person can never go wrong turning to the Lord.”

Arden considered herself a God-fearing person. She was a firm believer in prayer, just not so much for organized religion. She certainly didn’t need Mom to preach to her. She walked briskly up the sidewalk to get to her destination. She was so done with this conversation. “I’ve gotta let you go,” she said dully.

“Wait a minute. I’m not done talking. How’s your research going?”

“Fine. I’m heading to a dance class now.”

Madeline’s tone grew incredulous. “A dance class? Why?”

She didn’t like having to explain herself. “Because my main character is a dance instructor. I need to get in the character’s head. Attending a class is a great way to do it.”

“I thought you were writing Olivia’s story. She works at an art gallery.”

Way to point out the obvious, Mom.“I’m writing a fictional version of Olivia’s story. I promised Olivia that I’d mix things up, so it won’t be so obvious that I’m writing about her.” Olivia had gone to Carmel to work at an art gallery. Xavier Kipling, a renowned artist, grew obsessed with Olivia because she looked identical to his deceased wife, whom he’d murdered. Xavier set up the whole job thing as a way to get Olivia in his clutches. Also, he hired someone to shoot Flynn, Olivia’s then cop boyfriend, who was now her husband.

The story had intrigued Arden from the start. It wasn’t easy for Arden to persuade Olivia to let her write it. However, it had been a little over a year since the ordeal took place. Olivia finally gave Arden the okay with the stipulation that she make some changes. Instead of working at a gallery, the main character in Arden’s story had come to Carmel by the Sea to work in a dance studio. It was there where she would get to know the wealthy widower who was the father of one of her students. Arden figured it would be easier to have the main character’s profession be something that she loved.

“I’m here. I’ve gotta let you go.” She paused outside the glass door of the dance studio. She looked through the large windows and saw people milling about inside.

“Okay,” Madeline said reluctantly. “You really should consider bringing someone to Sylvia’s party. It would make the situation so much easier.”

Realization dawned. “You mean it would show Hector that I don’t give a flying fart in France about him.” She couldn’t help but grin as she said it. Now that she knew it got under Mom’s skin, she’d have to use the term more often.

“Exactly.” A bite sounded in Mom’s voice. “You need to show that moron what he’s missing. He’ll rue the day that he dared to mess with you.”

Was Mom actually giving her a compliment? An unexpected gush of emotion rose in her breast. Despite being annoying, Madeline Chasing was fiercely loyal to her children, and Arden loved her for it.

“The party’s three weeks away. I’m sure you can find a date by then. I suspect that Carmel is buzzing with plenty of successful men.”

“Or at least men who want to appear successful,” she quipped. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen as many expensive cars in one place. Poor Norman’s getting a complex.”

Madeline chuckled. “I presume you’re talking about your ancient Mercedes? I don’t know why you insist on naming your cars.”

“Norman’s not ancient. He’s vintage.” She’d purchased the Mercedes through a private seller a few months ago. Like all older cars, Norman could be finicky, but she loved having a unique vehicle that was steeped in history.

“Call it what you want, but … ‘A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet.’”

“Shakespeare. I’m impressed.”

“You’re not the only one who knows your literature.” A note of pride sounded in Mom’s voice.

Arden wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think that quote means what you think it does. If the rose smells just as sweet no matter what it’s called, then Norman would be a champ regardless of whether you labeled him ancient or vintage.”

“Another saying comes to mind. ‘No one likes a smarty pants.’”

Laughter gurgled in Arden’s throat. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So you’ll bring a plus-one to the party?”

Arden’s eyes flew open wide. “Land sakes, you’re relentless. How in the heck does Dad live with you?”

“I have my good points. Trust me when I say that I take very good care of your dad.”

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