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A good deed gets rewarded.
Father and daughter had rebonded, and the resort was saved. Rose felt so good about her part in it that she had needed some quiet time to think and ice to move on and bleed off some energy. She had received more than a few interested looks from mortals as she prettily asked George if it were all right to skate this late; she knew from long experience it was best to absent herself. Right now she might as well be dumping buckets of pheromones at her feet.
As she lapped the ice, she reflected on how cleverly she had managed their client. George now had an investor in the resort, one who was willing to be a silent partner. Rose smirked to herself. Jack will grumble and tease her about being a bleeding heart for mortals, but he'll be pleased to help George and Molly for the next ten years. She had arranged for one of her father's associates to act as go-between so George wouldn't suspect she was behind the sudden windfall. It was going to be worth every penny, that she was absolutely certain of. Rose had already glimpsed a brilliant future for both the Waltons.
Smiling with satisfaction, Rose gradually felt the rhythm of the ice take over, letting the music she seemed to always carry in her head come forward and guide her body. She spun and leaped effortlessly, the familiar exhilaration taking hold. Skating always felt like a heady combination of dancing and flying, the thin silver blades on her boots her only tether to earth. It was the one time she truly felt like the Winter Sprite she was. She detested skiing, even though Jack, who probably skied before he could walk, earnestly said she was a natural. He teased her about falling into snow drifts, but it was merely a joke between them -- she rarely fell, and could tackle almost as difficult of mountains as her husband could. She just didn't like being surrounded by so much snow.
Skating, however, was vastly different. Here, on the ice, she was at home. She felt her blades as extensions of her body, tracing patterns on the cold slickness under her feet. She sometimes improvised routines on freshly cleaned ice so that the marks of her skates drew a literal picture, chuckling to herself because few ever realized it. Now, she simply danced, letting her internal music dictate the steps. After a few minutes, she visualized a man joining her, keeping time, complimenting her turns and poses. She instinctively matched her imaginary partner's movements, the music swelling, her arms curved gracefully over her head, one leg extended behind, a ballerina on ice.
The tune ebbed and faded, and she felt the hum on her skin that told her that her husband was near. She glided to a graceful stop almost in the middle of the rink, looking up eagerly. Smiling brilliantly, bursting with the news of George and Molly, she sought Jack's gaze, but the delight froze a little on her face as she realized he was not alone. Another man was with him and she couldn't help but stare as the full force of his unfamiliar gaze struck her.
Her first thought was how entirely different two men could look that were so similar in height, build, and coloring.