Free The Dance Begins by Diane Chamberlain Page B

braids Nora plaited for her every morning. Her bangs were a bit too long right now and they brushed the top of her diminutive blue glasses. She’d picked blue frames because they matched her eyes, and he’d thought that was pretty sophisticated thinking for a five-year-old, the age she’d been when she first needed them. She had freckles across the bridge of her nose that disappeared in the wintertime and reappeared every spring. They were just beginning to show up now that the weather was warm.
    “Yup, the springhouse,” he said as Nora set a plate in front of him, the waffle already cut into bite-size pieces. “Thanks, hon,” he said to her, then returned his attention to Molly. “It won’t be ready for you to play in today, but maybe by this weekend, all right?” He picked up his fork and ate a bite of the waffle. He was more excited about the springhouse than he’d expected. Probably more excited than Molly right now. For him, the little building was a source of nostalgia. He’d had so much fun there when he was her age and on into his teenage years.
    “And we’ll sleep over in it?” Molly lifted her glass of orange juice to her lips with both hands.
    “We sure can,” he said.
    “You’ll stay with me?” Molly asked.
    “You bet,” he said.
    Nora sat down opposite him with her bowl of oatmeal. “I should probably be the one to stay there with you,” she said to Molly. He saw Molly’s face fall and hoped Nora didn’t notice. Molly was Daddy’s girl. Always had been.
    “We can trade off,” he said. He knew Nora was worried that something might happen in the middle of the night—another fall, perhaps—and he and Molly would be trapped out there in the dark until morning. She was a worrier. He supposed one of them had to be.
    “Can Amalia spend the night, too?” Molly asked.
    He glanced at Nora, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
    “We can talk about that later,” he said. Like his daughter, he lifted his orange juice glass to his lips with both hands as he tried to think of a change of topic. “You know what you need to take with us, Molly?” he asked, setting the glass down again. “Your treasure box.”
    “Why?” she asked. She looked worried. Last year, Amalia had helped her cover a shoe box with craft paper and sequins and ribbon and Molly kept her cache of seashells and other valuables inside it. She was very protective of her treasure box.
    “Because there’s a special hiding place in the springhouse that’s perfect for your treasures.”
    “But I keep them under my bed.” She liked order in her world. Nora fostered that in her.
    “Bring them,” Graham said. “The smaller things, anyhow. The hiding place is very cool. When you see it, you can decide if you want to leave them there or not.”
    “Okay.” She still sounded uncertain.
    “And you’d better bring some books to read today.” He ate the last bite of his waffle. “It might get a little boring for you while everyone’s working.” She was a good reader. The best reader in her class. He was worried she’d be bored next year in the first grade.
    “The springhouse is going to be my playhouse, right? All mine.”
    He was amused. “It will belong to everyone on Morrison Ridge, darling,” he said.
    She wrinkled her nose. “Dani, too?” Dani was her nine-year-old cousin. They were oil and water when they got together.
    “Dani, too,” he said, though he doubted Molly would have much competition from her cousins when it came to the springhouse. Dani thought it was too spooky, tucked so deeply into the woods. And the only other kids on Morrison Ridge were now teenagers and probably could care less.
    “I can share,” Molly said, but she didn’t look happy about it. Sharing was a bit of an issue with her. He wished he and Nora could have given her a sibling, but that hadn’t been in the cards.
    Nora looked at her watch. “I’m going to get fired,” she said as she got to her feet, but he