Captivated by the Millionaire

Yeah, he owed someone a heck of an apology.

* * *

The little girl was ignoring her. Or she was playing a little game of sorts. One thing was for certain; Jess wasn’t familiar with the child at all, had never seen her before here at the Vineyard Vine’s Children’s Center. Or anywhere else on the island, for that matter. The center provided a central location for all sorts of activities and classes, including child care and creative arts for young children, as well as athletic pursuits such as gymnastics and swim lessons in the regulation-size pool behind the building. Jess had been teaching painting there part-time for the better part of three years. And she loved every minute of it. Perhaps she had a new pupil. The girl’s mother was probably in the office right behind them signing her up for classes.

Jess realized her mistake as soon as she approached the child. She hadn’t been ignoring her at all. The clearly startled expression on her face when Jess reached her side told her she hadn’t heard when Jess had said hello from behind her.

She had a hearing impairment.

Jess had enough experience working with small children that she had a rudimentary knowledge of sign language. Crouching down to eye level with her, she signed hello.

The child’s response was a wide smile and a small wave.

My name is Jess.

The little girl spelled out her name in ASL. Sonya.

Hello, Sonya. I’m so happy to meet you.

That earned her another smile.

Jess pointed to the bulletin board the girl had been staring at when she’d come upon her. Specifically, her gaze seemed to be focused on a flyer announcing the summer play. Jess and a couple of other teachers had volunteered to help the children put together an elementary performance of Mother Goose.

If the girl was new in town, the play might be a perfect way to get her acclimated to her new community. Jess pointed to the caption on the flyer that read Parts Still Available. Then she pointed to Sonya’s chest.

“Would you like to be in the play? There are still spots open, and we’ve only just begun rehearsals. I’m one of the teachers in charge. And we’d love to have you.”

Sonya seemed to understand at least the gist of what Jess was asking her. She tapped her finger on the flyer once more. The little girl’s eyes widened as she pondered the question.

Her impairment wouldn’t be a problem at all, Jess figured. They could certainly adapt a part that would work for her easily enough. At this age, the children were so young, none of them were actually saying many lines anyway.

“What do you think?” Jess asked. “Would you like to be in the play?”

The glass door of the office opened just then and a harsh male voice suddenly boomed behind her. A somewhat familiar voice, at that.

“What in devil’s name?”

She turned to find the last person in the world she’d been expecting here. The cranky grouch from the other night. The one who’d yelled at her about her castle.

Hard to believe, but he seemed even more upset with her now than he’d been then.

* * *

Jordan’s surprise at seeing the young artist again quickly turned to ire when he realized what she was up to. Had she really just asked Sonya to be in some sort of preschool performance? What could she possibly be thinking? To think for a split second, when he’d first seen her out here in this hallway, he’d actually felt grateful at the prospect of being able to apologize for his behavior the other night. As if.

She straightened at his question. “What are you doing here?” she demanded to know, her eyes shooting daggers his way.

Not that it was any of her business, but he responded to her question, the one she’d asked with scorn and derision clear in her voice. As if she should be the one to be outraged in the current scenario. “I’m signing her up for swimming classes.” Jordan wanted to get the errand out of the way first thing after they’d settled in. The L-shaped pool in his new backyard was deep enough to be concerning. Not to mention the Atlantic Ocean a stone’s throw away.

He didn’t really have time to stand here and answer her questions. The woman was a repetitive thorn in his side and he didn’t even know who she was.

It was his turn to demand some answers. “What exactly were you asking her?”