"Do you know if Cordelia is coming to the island?" Grayson asked Andrew, assuming he would know the whereabouts of the oldest Thorpe sister. Last he knew, Cordelia moved to London as well. But maybe he was wrong.
Andrew's brow puckered in confusion...
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G- have to take Delilah to gymnastics. Wanna come?
C- what's in it for me?
G- what's your price?
C-coffee or ice cream. or both
G- I'm not feeling that generous
C- then you choose. I'll be over in a few minutes
Delilah rushed them both out the door as soon as Charlotte arrived. Delilah forced Charlotte into the back seat even though Charlotte was technically the guest. Delilah nervously bit her fingernails, barely speaking while she tapped an anxious rhythm on her thigh. It had been a few weeks since her last practice. Delilah had a hard time finding a gym on the island since the last one shut down where she could maintain her rigorous practice schedule.
Only thirteen years old, Delilah had a bright future ahead of her as a gymnast. Her two favorites were floor work and high beams. While she excelled at both, near in her future she would have to decide which to dedicate herself to. She wanted to compete nationally and with the way she was headed, she would soon.
"It's such a gorgeous day. I love this island." Charlotte leaned against the side of the Porsche with her arms spread out, face tilted towards the sun. "I need to work on my tan."
"Be careful. Can't get tan lines for the wedding."
With a gasp, Charlotte snapped her head towards him. "You're right!"
The two of them were waiting in the parking lot enjoying the warm sun, the gentle breeze, and the chirping of the summer birds while Delilah endured her hour or so practice. It was her first time, so she was just testing out the gym and the instructors.
"You know, I always wanted to be a gymnast," Charlotte said, inspecting her nails. She had tried to convince him to accompany him to her usual manicure appointment yesterday morning but he strongly disagreed.
"No, you didn't," he said with a laugh, perching his Ray Bans on his nose to block the strong sunshine. "You wanted to be a ballerina."
"I don't think so," Charlotte argued.
"I'm positive, Char."
She harrumphed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Perhaps. What did you want to be when you were little?"
Grayson shrugged, trying to recall his childhood dreams. "Maybe a pilot."
"Can't be. You don't like heights."
"When I was little, I didn't mind so much. And flying and heights aren't the same thing. I love to fly," he corrected.
To practice her own balance, Charlotte stepped away from the Porsche into the mostly empty parking lot and found a bare yellow line. She put both of her feet on the line and extended her arms side to side to balance her weight. "I thought you wanted to be a tv producer?"
