She giggled, recalling the balloon archway they had walked through that starry night. Tulle draped everywhere as stringed lights glittered in the room. Spotlights changed colors on the dance floor, and tables carried drinks and refreshments.
How the music had swelled and diminished as the doors would open and closed. Cologne and perfume had saturated the room while the DJ’s amplified voice had filled the background. Chantelle bit her bottom lip to hide her grin. She failed, noticing Lance pulling at his collar.
He replied. “Not funny. Do you know how embarrassed I was?”
“I didn’t mind. I was with you.” Did that slip out? Her eyes widened slightly, but she waited for his response.
His expression softened, making her heart melt. “I know you didn’t. For a moment I didn’t hear the other kids laughing. All I saw was you.”
How she wanted to move closer to him but restrained herself.
Lance cleared his throat. “Anyway, I don’t know if I can do that. Not in front of friends and family.”
“What if I go with you?” Chantelle bit the inside of her cheek the moment the words escaped her mouth.
“You’d do that?”
She bobbed her head since she couldn’t back out now. “Sure, for moral support. Plus, I can include it in the article.”
He held up a finger. “No pictures. You can talk about it in terms of me preparing, but no pictures.”
“I would never do that to you.” She shoved at his shoulder.
He waggled his eyebrows. “Or wouldn’t you?”
She inched closer. “Trust me, Mr. Taylor?”
“We’ll see, Ms. Woods.” A grin expanded on his lips.
Chapter 19
Bouncing on her tiptoes, Chantelle walked through the doors of Delta Heights Press. She heard keys clicking, the rustle of newspapers, and printers printing. Desks with computers, phones, pads of paper, pens and office supplies, and stacks of papers and files surrounded the space. Walking down the narrow hall she knew so well as a teen, she made her way to Mr. Perkins’ office. She never missed an opportunity to visit him when she passed through Delta Heights.
The summer before her last year in high school, she recalled working as an intern at his newspaper. She’d plastered sticky notes to her computer, wanting to keep up with her notes. She would swivel her chair to talk with fellow interns and coworkers. Lance would visit and take her out to lunch. Sometimes they would see a late movie before visiting their spot on the abandoned country road.
Her eyebrows gathered in as she continued to Mr. Perkins’ office. It was there that her dream of being a writer manifested. He gave her a chance when she was in high school, aspiring for others to read her words. Mr. Perkins made her believe in herself. Taking the plunge in college, she received her degree in English—all thanks to Mr. Perkins.
It didn’t hurt either that he was her father’s best friend. She saw him as another father-figure in her life. He was the one she came to when her mother announced her plans to remarry. His advice stuck with her.
Knocking on his thick wooden door, she pivoted to face the fellow writers at their desks. His receptionist must have been on break since her desk was vacant. Once the door opened, Chantelle beamed at the older white man with thick eyebrows and amber eyes.
“Chantelle Woods,” he said. His husky frame embraced her as he always did. He escorted her inside his office. “What do I owe the pleasure? You’re visiting your family again?”
“Yes, I’m staying with my mother.” Chantelle settled into the leather office chair. Mr. Perkins sat on the other side of his wooden desk. “How have you been?”
“Still working things around here. How long will you be in town this time?”
“Until I finish my work.” She folded her hands
in her lap. “I wanted to look around.”
“It hasn’t changed since the last time you were here.”
She touched a hand to her chest, playing with her necklace. “I know, but I love this place.”
Mr. Perkins leaned back in his rolling office chair. “How are things back in the city?”
“Chicago is fine, but it’s great to be home.”