Dance, The (The Restoration Series Book #1): A Novel (15 page)

 28 

M
arilyn was beside herself. She couldn’t remember when she’d ever had so much fun.

It was Thursday evening. They were just finishing up their second dance lesson at the Windsor Studio. She was sitting in a chair, almost breathless, wiping her face and neck with a towel. For most of the last thirty minutes, the class had danced the basic waltz nonstop to some of the most beautiful music she’d ever heard. She had danced with Roberto, and of course he had danced flawlessly. But other than a few missteps at the beginning, Marilyn had kept right in step with him the whole time.

She’d been practicing at the apartment all week, but only when she was alone. Charlotte was thrilled she was taking the lessons, but for some reason, Marilyn couldn’t bring herself to practice with Charlotte there.

When she’d first walked in this evening, she’d felt a little lost. Audrey wasn’t there and hadn’t shown up to class all night. Marilyn wondered where she was. Once again, Marilyn was the only one there without a partner. But true to his promise, before the class began Roberto had come over and reminded her that
she’d be his partner tonight. And several of the class members had greeted her by name and talked with her like old friends.

She was so glad now she’d signed up for these classes.

Just then, an unsettling thought came. She glanced at the big window, then felt instant relief. Jim wasn’t there. She looked by the front door, remembering how he’d stormed in last week, the furious look on his face. He wasn’t there, either.

“Watching you and Roberto dance tonight was really something.”

Marilyn turned around to face the voice. It was Faye, Gordon’s wife. He was the older man from last week who couldn’t get the dance steps down. “What?” she said, although she’d heard what Faye had said.

“You and Roberto,” Faye repeated. “You were such a joy to watch.”

“Why, thank you.”

“It was like you two were in a different league than the rest of us. Of course, you’d expect Roberto to be, but you were doing a good job there, holding your own. Gordon and I are just beginners, and we’re not getting off to a great start, if you ask me.” She was smiling.

Marilyn didn’t know what to say. It was a fairly small room, so you couldn’t help but watch everyone else as they danced. Flashes of the considerable number of times Faye had scolded Gordon came to mind, every time he stepped on her toes or got the steps wrong. She always did it in a playful tone, and Gordon always laughed after. “How are your feet holding up?” Marilyn said.

Faye looked down at them. “They’re doing fine. You musta thought I was kidding about wearing steel-toed shoes.” She looked up again. “I wasn’t. I told Gordon when he kept pushing me to sign up for these classes, I ain’t about to let you mangle
my feet once a week. It’s bad enough when we have to dance at weddings every now and then.”

“Gordon was the one who wanted the two of you to take these classes?”

Faye nodded. “Ol’ Gordon, he loves to dance. But I don’t know why. He’s awful at it. Course, I don’t need to tell you that.” She leaned forward. “The man can’t even clap on beat. All these years we been married, every time there’s a chance to dance, he drags me out there on the floor. Now don’t get me wrong, I love to dance. And I love Gordon to bits. But those two things don’t necessarily go together.”

Marilyn wondered what it must be like to have a husband who loved to dance. And here he was, like Faye said, terrible at it. Gordon didn’t seem to mind her playful jabs a bit. “Is he making any progress?” Marilyn said.

Faye looked over her shoulder. Gordon was by the desk, talking to one of the other husbands. “I tell him he is,” she said. “But you know . . . I don’t think so. I’m not sure these lessons are helping one bit. But I promised him I’d give it a try. See, we’re celebrating our fiftieth anniversary in two months, and we’re taking a seven-day Caribbean cruise. Gordon looked into it, and there’s all kinds of opportunities to dance on these cruises. He’s convinced himself all he needs is a few good lessons, and we’d be all set.” She looked up at him with love in her eyes. “It’s only week two, but I’m not that hopeful. Let’s just say, I plan on packing these steel-toed shoes for that cruise.”

Marilyn smiled. “Fifty years, congratulations. That’s an amazing accomplishment these days.”

“I suppose so,” Faye said. “He’s really a wonderful man when you look past his flaws, and pretty easy to be with. I’m the one that’s a pill.”

Marilyn wondered what it must be like to be married for fifty years to someone you still felt that way about. She and Jim had made it just beyond the twenty-five-year mark, and look where they were. She remembered how they had celebrated their silver anniversary, also on a Caribbean cruise. The ship had stopped at ports like San Juan, St. Thomas, and the Cayman Islands. But the trip had been her idea, not Jim’s. When she booked it, she had high hopes it might stir fresh romance into their relationship.

That didn’t happen. Not even close.

Jim had spent most of his time with his nose in his laptop or reading a bestselling business book he’d bought a few days before they’d left. “Can’t wait to read this,” he’d said with far more enthusiasm than he’d shown toward her about any aspect of the trip. She couldn’t even get him to spend an hour going over the different excursions they could take together at the various ports of call. “You pick them out,” he’d said. “Whatever you want, hon. I’ll be fine with it.” He didn’t even look up from the computer screen.

But he certainly had loved the food. So had she. How could you not? Gourmet meals from morning till night, prepared by chefs. And plenty of it, all included in the price. It had turned out to be the high point of the cruise . . . for both of them. It certainly wasn’t the dancing. Gordon was right about that. There were plenty of opportunities to dance aboard cruise ships. Marilyn knew better than to even bring that subject up with Jim.

“Excuse me, ladies.”

Marilyn looked up into Roberto’s smiling face. He was bending over, one arm leaning on the back of her chair.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important.”

“No,” Faye said. “We’re just yakking.”

“Marilyn, could I have a word with you?”

“What?”

“A word? Won’t take a minute of your time.”

“You two go ahead,” Faye said, standing up. “I’ve gotta get Gordon home in time for his meds.” She smiled and walked away.

Roberto sat in her seat, right next to Marilyn. Someone by the front door yelled good-bye to him. He looked up and waved, then gave her his undivided attention. He had such penetrating eyes. Marilyn had noticed that when they danced. When Roberto looked at her, it was like the two of them were alone in the room.

Just her. Just him. Gliding across the floor.

“I wondered,” Roberto said, “if you’d allow me to take you to lunch tomorrow. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

“You want to take me . . . to lunch?” Was he asking her out on a date? She instantly tensed up.

“You do eat, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I eat, but—”

“Then let’s meet for lunch, anywhere in town. You pick the place.”

“I don’t know.” Then she remembered. “I . . . I work tomorrow. During the lunch hour, I mean.”

“Okay . . . then when do you get a break? Sometime in the afternoon? They must give you a break sometime.”

“They do. I think it’s around three o’clock.”

“Well, then, how about coffee? I’ll meet you at the Starbucks around the corner. Three o’clock. We can talk then.” He smiled, then stood up.

“But . . .”

Someone called to him, and he walked away.

 29 

I
don’t know what to do, Charlotte. It just feels so wrong.”

Charlotte had the day off. She’d worked late last night, so she’d slept in. It was almost noon on Friday. She was eating her breakfast, and she’d asked Marilyn to join her for a cup of coffee before Marilyn headed off to her job at Odds-n-Ends. “What feels wrong about it?” she said.

“I’m married,” Marilyn said. “I shouldn’t be going out with another man. I think I’m just not going to show up this afternoon.” She took a sip of coffee; her hand was actually shaking.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re going out with him. Not like that, anyway. Aren’t you just meeting him for coffee?”

Marilyn nodded.

“People do that all the time. With people they’re not married to, I mean. You know, co-workers, neighbors, friends. Isn’t that what you two are? Just friends?” She scooped a piece of fried egg onto her toast.

“I guess. I’m not even sure we’re friends yet. Not really. He’s my dance instructor. We’re just dance partners.” Marilyn went on to explain how Roberto had agreed to be her partner for the
class since she was the only one attending without one. And how they had danced together for the last thirty minutes of the class last night. “It was the most fun I’ve had since I don’t know when,” she said.

“See?” Charlotte said. “That’s all you were having . . . good clean fun, right? I mean, he didn’t put any moves on you while you danced, did he?”

“No . . . I don’t think so.” Marilyn thought about the way he’d looked at her while they danced. It was almost mesmerizing, but it didn’t seem lustful or romantic. She would have recognized it if it had been, wouldn’t she?

“You don’t think so?” Charlotte said. “I know you’re kind of out of practice after being married for so long, but I think you’d know it if a guy was coming on to you. Don’t you think?”

“No, you’re right. He wasn’t putting any moves on me. We just danced.”

“So, why’d you hesitate when I asked? Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty about it. Just trying to be a friend.”

“I’m just confused.” She sat back in her chair. “This whole thing is so new for me. Dancing with someone who’s not my husband. It feels like such a romantic thing, but I know it’s really not. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, the beautiful music, or the fact that we’re holding each other while we’re dancing around the floor. But really, he was a perfect gentleman the whole time.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing then. He just wants to meet for coffee. It’s not like it’s a date.” Charlotte mopped up the last piece of egg with her last piece of toast. Before putting it in her mouth, she said, “If you get there and you feel he’s starting to get the wrong idea, or if what he wants to ask you is the least bit inappropriate, you can just tell him to get lost.”

Marilyn hoped nothing like that happened. There was no way she could finish her dance lessons if it did.

“If you want, I could go with you. You know, it doesn’t have to look like we planned it. I could just show up for coffee there at the same time.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m a big girl. I should be able to handle this. Besides, it’s probably nothing at all. I’m just making a big deal out of nothing.”

“I think you might be,” Charlotte said. “Meeting a friend who happens to be a man for coffee is kind of in the same range as dancing. It doesn’t mean there’s anything romantic going on. Why don’t you pray about it? Ask God to help you tell if this guy’s starting to hit on you. And if he is, like I said, you stand up and tell him to bug off.”

“You’re right, Charlotte. That’s what I’ll do.” She looked at her watch. “I really need to get going.” She took a last sip of her coffee. “I feel so much better about this now. Thanks for talking with me.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she said, smiling.

Marilyn hurried back to her bedroom and grabbed her purse. She really did feel better about the situation now. She said good-bye to Charlotte and headed out the door. As she made her way down the steps, another troubling thought surfaced. What if someone saw her having coffee with Roberto this afternoon? The Starbucks was in a central spot downtown, right out in the open. What if someone from her old church saw them?

What if Jim did?

Marilyn got in line at Starbucks, five minutes before three. She was relieved; Roberto hadn’t arrived yet. She had a thirty-
minute lunch break, and the café was only a five-minute walk from Odds-n-Ends. She left in time to get her cappuccino and find a seat before three. That way she’d make sure she paid for it herself, and that she only had fifteen minutes left to talk before she had to head back.

How much damage could be done in fifteen minutes?

The line moved fairly quickly. She placed her order then walked to the other side of the counter to pick it up. As she stirred in the Splenda packet, she heard the front door open. She glanced up to see Roberto walk through.

His face lit up. “Marilyn, there you are,” he said in that marvelous Latin accent. Marilyn had to remind herself it was a put-on. “So glad you could come.” He got in line. “But I wished you had waited to order. It was going to be my treat.”

She noticed that both a young woman in line and one behind the counter instantly looked at Roberto
that
way. “I’m sorry, Roberto. Go ahead and get yours. I’ll get us a table.”

“Very well. I’ll be there
un minuto
.”

She picked a table in the corner of the outside section, set behind a half wall, the farthest one from the door. So far, she didn’t recognize a soul. A few moments later, Roberto joined her.

“You look lovely, Marilyn.”

Marilyn instantly felt self-conscious. “This is just something from the back of my closet.”

He looked at her name tag. “Odds-n-Ends is a nice store. I’ve bought gifts there for people several times.”

“It really is. I bought myself a gift there just last week. A beautiful music box. As a matter of fact, that little music box is the reason I’m taking dance lessons.” Marilyn went on to tell him about how she’d met Audrey while playing the music box for Michele at Giovanni’s.

“That’s a wonderful story,” he said. “My thanks to the maker of the music box then.”

Marilyn smiled, took a sip of her cappuccino. Was he flirting with her or just being nice? He was just being nice, of course that was all it was. It was just the way he talked. And the way he looked at people when he talked. “So,” she said. “What’s this thing you want to talk to me about? We better get to it right away. I really only have a few minutes before I have to head back to the store.”

“Oh . . . my loss. But really, this will only take a few minutes. I could have told you last night at the studio. But it seemed so impersonal.”

“So this is something personal?” she asked.

“In a way, but not really. I just didn’t want to say this in front of all the other class members. And I didn’t want to put you on the spot, so to speak. Even now, please know, you
don’t
have to do what I’m about to ask you. I don’t want you to feel
any
pressure.”

Whatever could it be? “Please . . . don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Well, I made this decision last night after we danced. Actually, I started thinking about this after last week’s class. I could tell you were a natural the moment I saw you on the floor. But after last night, my decision was crystal clear.”

“Roberto . . .”

“I’m sorry, I’m still keeping you in suspense, aren’t I? The thing is, there’s a regional dance contest at the end of September in Orlando. It’s a very prestigious event. An opportunity for dance instructors throughout central Florida to put on display how well they’re able to teach their students.”

“I don’t understand. What does that have to do with me?”

“Everything, my dear. The rules state each instructor must
select as his partner someone from a beginner’s dance class. They absolutely have to be a novice. This is your first dance class, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Because you’ll have to sign an affidavit stating so. But Marilyn, you’ll be perfect. I usually do this just for the extra publicity it brings to the studio. But my dear, with you on my arm . . . I think we have a chance of actually winning the whole thing!”