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then up to scan the marble hall. Each opaque glass door bore gold-edged black numbers. Theirs was at the end, next to a message-covered bulletin board, a drinking fountain, and the bathrooms.
    “Seems to me, the reason you’re not dating is because you’re ignoring handsome young men.” Nona squeezed her hand.
    But she kept her gaze fixed on their destination. “Grandma Nona! Please!” Misty rolled her gaze heavenward, shaking her head.
    Just then, the retired dean of Long Valley Valley College, Martin Abernathy, and his wife, Vera, came to a halt beside them. He enveloped her grandmother in a bear hug while Vera clutched her purse and giggled like a schoolgirl waiting for an autograph when they discovered they were in the same class.
    “Nona. Walk in with us, won’t you?” His smile flashed a million miles wide. “Vera wants to talk to you about the film festival.”
    “Yes, of course.” Grandma leveled her gaze.
    Misty wanted to squirm under its weight.
    “My granddaughter wants to say hello to her friend, anyway.” Pursing her lips, her grandmother walked arm in arm with the couple through the classroom door.
    Misty stood, dry mouthed and alone. She looked back to the entrance. Should she go back out to find him? Or maybe, if she waited a minute, he’d come after her? What silly, childish thoughts were these? Almost as silly as blindly hoping she’d cross paths with the wandering musician by accident. This was real life. Not a fairy tale. She rubbed the empty spot in the center of her chest, sighed, and then skulked through the classroom doorway.
    Moments later, she found herself perched in front of an easel, art supplies neatly arranged for the painting they would be tackling that day. The room buzzed with senior citizens making small talk.
    Head high and voice clear, Nona Darling proudly introduced her granddaughter to everyone in the room. “Misty, you remember Martin and Vera Abernathy.”
    They each squeezed her hand in greeting. Misty said her hellos and how-do-you-dos, a rehearsed smile pasted on her face. Being the youngest person in a crowd of seventy-plus citizens might have bothered some, but since coming back, this had been her only social life. Perhaps that explained why finding herself face to face with the handsome stranger had left her tongue tied and jittery.
    She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror behind the classroom sinks, sighed, and tugged her windblown tangle of hair back up into a quick ponytail. She’d barely given a second thought to her appearance, she’d been so late getting Grandma out the door.
    Misty ran quick fingers along her cheeks. No need for rouge, that ever-present blush heated from behind a childish spray of freckles. She sucked in her cheeks, deepening her features. Somewhere inside was the granddaughter of the famous Nona Darling. She failed to see any resemblance.
    Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath. No more self-berating for trusting the wrong guy. Grandma was right. High time to rejoin the world. Her thoughts drifted to the handsome guitarist. If he’s still outside when class ends, I’ll walk over there. Say something brilliant.
    The door opened. He walked right in, this time at the arm of a dark-haired beauty—their art instructor, Misty guessed, judging by the box full of art supplies she carried.
    His gaze swept the room and settled upon her.
    Misty stared back, her jaw went slack. She snapped her mouth shut before she looked like an idiot. What were the odds? The air solidified around her, as her heart kicked into gear. How can skin go hot and cold all at the same time?
    “Looks like you didn’t miss him, after all.” Grandma elbowed.
    “Good morning, everyone. I’m Diane Laurent, and this is my partner in crime today, Cain Trovato.” Diane gestured toward the center of the room. “Cain, why don’t you get set up?”
    Cain strolled to the stool, removing his jacket, his brows raised in amusement.
    “Hey, there.” She