Dance, The (The Restoration Series Book #1): A Novel (24 page)

 45 

F
or the next two days, Marilyn was in torment.

She was standing in front of her dresser mirror in Charlotte’s apartment, wearing the flashy, skimpy red dress Roberto had given her Tuesday night.

Her bedroom door was shut. And locked.

The dress did make her feel beautiful, and she had to admit . . . it did look good on her. It made her feel at least twenty years younger. Roberto’s comments on Tuesday—first at the restaurant then later throughout their last practice—not only flattered her but stirred feelings inside she hadn’t felt for a long time. But she didn’t want to feel those feelings. At least not with Roberto.

Why couldn’t Jim treat me like this? she thought.

She spun slowly around in the mirror. It was Thursday evening, group dance class night. She would see Roberto again; he was certain to ask her what she thought of the dress. The big dance contest was this Saturday, just two nights away. “You can’t wear this,” she said aloud.

At the restaurant on Tuesday, he had continued to imply he
wanted to keep seeing her after the contest. Every time he said something, she quickly changed the subject, hoping he’d get the hint. He was a handsome, incredibly charming man, at least ten years younger than her. Dancing in his arms these past several weeks had thrilled her; she couldn’t recall doing anything else in her life that had made her feel so alive.

But she knew what she really meant to him. She was nothing more than a conquest. He looked at that young dancer, Angelina, the same way he looked at her. And every attractive woman in the restaurant on Tuesday night. Roberto was a ladies’ man to his core. And she was sure he’d had plenty of ladies willing to play his game, if only for the pleasure of enjoying his undivided attention while it lasted. Until he grew bored and moved on to the next conquest.

She regretted ever saying yes to being his partner in this contest. She’d have to face him tonight, tell him at the very least that she was not about to wear this dress. If he still wanted her to dance with him, he’d have to be content with the red dress she wore at the restaurant and during practice.

But she needed some help. She walked to the bedroom door and unlocked it. Opening it slightly, she called out to Charlotte, who was putting the finishing touches on their dinner. “Charlotte, can you come in here a minute? There’s something I need to show you.”

“Sure, hon,” she said. “I’m just trying to get this thing finished. Don’t want to make you late for your class.”

“That’s all right,” Marilyn said. “It won’t take a minute.”

“Be right there,” she said.

Marilyn closed the door but didn’t allow it to latch, then stood in the center of the bedroom. Just for effect, she struck the pose she was supposed to use at the opening of the dance.

Charlotte walked in. “Oh my goodness,” she said. “Oh . . . my . . . goodness.”

Marilyn couldn’t read the look on her face. Was she horrified? Was she—

“So does this mean you and Jim are getting back together?” Charlotte said.

“What? No . . . why would you say that?”

“It’s lingerie, right? It’s gorgeous. I mean, you look gorgeous. I just figured . . .”

Marilyn stopped posing. She felt like grabbing a blanket and covering up. Lingerie
?
It was worse than she thought.

“It’s not lingerie, is it?” Charlotte said. “I’m sorry. I thought it was some slinky little outfit you got for . . . well, never mind. So, what is it? It’s a dress?”

Marilyn nodded.

“No, don’t tell me. This isn’t your dress for the contest Saturday night?”

“It’s supposed to be,” Marilyn said. “It’s what Roberto wants me to wear. But I’m not going to.”

“Thank you,” Charlotte said. “I’m so relieved. Because I was gonna say—”

“Your reaction is just what I needed.” Marilyn sat on the edge of the bed.

Charlotte sat on the small upholstered chair in the corner. “I mean, it makes you look really beautiful, but—”

“I know. It’s totally inappropriate.”

“You gonna tell him tonight?” Charlotte asked.

Marilyn sighed.

“He’s going to be upset, I take it.”

“I think so. But I don’t care. I wish I’d never agreed to do this.”

“What’s happening, hon? You were so excited before. I was
the one getting concerned about it. He starting to pressure you? Putting on the moves?”

“He wasn’t before. Not until Tuesday. I didn’t tell you, but we met at a restaurant before class.”

“Oh.”

Yes,
oh
, Marilyn thought. “He said it was just to celebrate our last class and the upcoming contest. Then he sprung this dress on me, said he wanted me to wear it Saturday. Of course, I didn’t know then what it looked like, but I had an idea by the way he was talking.”

“What’d he say?” Charlotte asked.

“The kinds of things a guy says when he’s ‘putting on the moves’ as you said.”

“What’d you do?”

“I kept changing the subject. But I can’t keep putting him off.”

“No, you can’t. A guy like that needs a two-by-four right in the forehead. That’s the only kind of hint he’ll pick up.”

Marilyn smiled. “Well, I’m putting an end to it tonight, after practice.”

“You’re not going through with the contest?”

“I might go through with it,” Marilyn said. “If he agrees I can wear the red dress I’ve been wearing. If not, then I’m backing out.”

“Good for you.” Charlotte sniffed the air. “I smell something burning. I better get back to the kitchen.”

“And I better get changed. Thanks so much, Charlotte. You’ve been a great friend.”

“No big deal,” Charlotte said. “And you be strong when you get to class. Stick to your guns.”

“I will.”

Just as Charlotte left the room, Marilyn’s phone rang. She picked it up. It was Michele.

“Mom, have you been watching the news?” She sounded almost frantic.

“No, I haven’t. Why? What’s the matter?”

“Tropical Storm Harold has just been upgraded to a hurricane!”

“What tropical storm? I didn’t even know one had formed. Is it supposed to come here?” She instantly began to tense up, remembering 2004. Charley, Frances, and Jean. Three hurricanes that bombarded central Florida in the span of six weeks.

“Some of the tracks say it might,” Michele said. “Some say it will hit the Panhandle, maybe Pensacola or Mobile. A few take it west, out into the Gulf toward Louisiana.”

“Well, Michele, you know hurricanes almost never come here.”

“I know, but they can. And two days ago, none of the tracks had it coming across the state. Now three or four of them do. They’re saying everyone should keep watching the news for updates. They might be putting us on a hurricane warning by midnight or morning.”

“Oh my,” Marilyn said. “Is it that close?”

“They said there’s a chance it could be here by the weekend.”

“This weekend?”

“Yes! By Saturday or Sunday.”

“That quick?”

“It depends which way it turns. If it turns east in the next day or two, it could be here by then. Oh, Mom, this could ruin my wedding.”

Marilyn tried to get hold of her fears. They were piling up inside and felt like they were about to run free any moment.
She took a deep breath. “We might be fine, Michele. There’s still a chance it won’t hit here, right? And even if it does, your wedding’s not till next weekend. It will be here and gone way before then.”

“But Mom, you remember what Charley and Frances did? All the trees they destroyed? The damage to all the buildings? Riverfront Park will be a mess. The power could still be out. Out of town guests might not be allowed in because of the damage.” She was starting to cry.

“It’s okay, Michele. Let’s don’t go there yet. None of this may happen.” But inside the same thoughts were right there, staring at her. “We have to trust the Lord,” she said. “God will take care of us. We made it through the last time just fine.” She wanted to ask her a question but was afraid it might stir up more fears in Michele. But she had to ask. “If it does come, where will you go?”

“I’m not worried about that,” Michele said. “The college has a bunch of strong buildings. Several of them are approved shelters for the Red Cross. It’s the wedding I’m worried about. Mom, what if we have to postpone it?”

 46 

M
arilyn decided to wait until after the group dance lesson before breaking the news to Roberto about the dress. During class he treated her pretty much the way he always had, except she did catch him several times staring at her
that
way. He’d always smile and look away. Now she wondered if he’d been doing this all along or if it had increased since their dinner on Tuesday. Either way, it made her feel uncomfortable. She was almost certain this extra attention would stop once she told him no about the skimpy dress.

The class had ended about ten minutes ago. Most of the people had already left. She stayed around chatting with different ones, finished up a conversation, then said good-bye to Gordon and Faye. She looked at Roberto. He was talking with one of the other couples. Other than the three of them, the studio looked empty. She walked over to the office and peeked inside. Audrey Windsor was working at the desk. Marilyn had seen her come in during the class, but then she disappeared. Obviously, she hadn’t gone home.

Audrey looked up. “Hello, Marilyn. How are you? Can I help you with anything?”

“No, I’m fine. Nice to see you.”

“I’m just checking over the schedule, but I’ll be glad to help you.”

“No, really, I’m fine. Have a good night.” She pulled away before Audrey could draw her into more conversation.

Guess we won’t be talking in the office, she thought. After backing away from the door, she noticed Roberto waving good-bye to the couple he’d been talking with. She grabbed her purse from the chair and walked toward him. “Roberto, I need to leave, but I wonder if I can speak with you before I go. It’s kind of important.”

“Of course, my dear.” A big smile on his face. His eyes lit up. “Only two more days. Aren’t you excited? I can’t wait to show you off. Have you tried on the dress? What did you think?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about, but not here.” She spoke just above a whisper.

“What’s wrong? You seem a little upset.”

“Let’s talk outside, in the breezeway.” Now she was whispering. “Audrey is working in the office.”

“Very well.”

Marilyn headed out the front door. She heard Roberto’s footsteps behind her. As she rounded the corner into the breezeway, she was relieved to find it empty. The couple Roberto had last talked with must have parked out front. She watched as Gordon and Faye’s car pulled out of the rear parking lot. Stopping when she reached the midpoint, she turned and faced him.
You be strong
. . . s
tick to your guns.
Charlotte’s words replayed in her head. “I can’t do it,” she announced. “I’m sorry to have to tell you on such short notice, but you really haven’t given me a choice.”

He put both arms on her shoulders, as if to comfort her. “Come now, what are you talking about?” The Latin accent set on full. “Can it be that bad? Tell me, what’s the problem?”

“I can’t wear that dress, the one you gave me Tuesday night.”

“Why? It’s perfect. I’m sure you look amazing in it.”

“It’s not . . . it’s just not right for me.”

“How can you say that, Marilyn? You are a beautiful woman, you—”

“That’s not what I—” She sighed. How could she say this? “I’m not
that
kind of woman.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that wears dresses like that,” she said. “Out in public.”

He laughed. “My, my, look how upset you are. Don’t be. I’ve seen the dress on other women. It’s beautiful, yes. Stylish, yes. Provocative, maybe a little. But everything is covered.”

She felt he was treating her like a child. “It’s not covering up enough for me. I’m sorry. I just can’t wear it. If you insist, I’ll have to back out of the contest.”

“Back out? But the contest is two days away.”

“I know, but you only gave me the dress two days ago. I thought I was wearing the red one I’ve been wearing all this time.”

He took his hands off her shoulders and walked a few steps away, looking down at the pavement. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say, Roberto. My mind’s made up. If you want me to dance with you, you have to be okay with the other red dress.” Secretly, she was hoping it would not be okay with him and that she’d be able to end everything right here.

He walked back. She leaned against the wall. He leaned toward her, putting his right arm just above her shoulder, his palm
flat against the wall, like a teenage boy hovering over his girl in the school hallway.

What is he doing? she thought. He’s not getting the message. She remembered what Charlotte had said about guys like Roberto needing to be hit by a two-by-four.

Jim was driving down Oakland Avenue, taking the long way home from his warehouse. For some reason, he was missing Marilyn even more than usual. Maybe it had to do with how much time he’d been “practicing” the last few nights, putting Uncle Henry’s advice to work. He’d written out all the things he’d wished he could say to her if she ever gave him the chance. He knew she’d be finishing up her dance class about now, and he decided to drive by the studio, take a chance he might see her in the window.

It had been an exhausting day. The weathermen had not declared a hurricane watch yet, but if Hurricane Harold changed course as some tracks showed, the storm could be here in two days, three at the most. It was already a Category 3 and growing.

Jim’s properties had suffered extensive damage in 2004 with Charley, Frances, and Jean. The insurance had covered the worst of it, but his out-of-pocket expenses were huge. In the aftermath, he’d decided to have custom plywood covers made for every window of every property, and had been storing them in rented warehouse space ever since. Years went by with no more storms. Anderson Development, Inc. had purchased four more properties. Those properties didn’t have custom plywood coverings.

He’d spent the day moving heavy piles all around, making sure the plywood at the warehouse was present and accounted for, and figuring out how much more he’d need for the new
properties. Then he’d spent hours in line waiting for a new shipment of plywood to come in at Lowe’s. Listening to the conversations, he figured everyone in line had lived through the other hurricanes. No one was taking a chance with Harold. One good thing had come out of the wait: he’d found an out-of-work guy in line who owned a pickup truck. They’d haggled over a price for him to pick up Jim’s plywood, deliver it to his properties, and make it all fit in the right places.

Hopefully, the cost of all this would be a fraction of the expense of possible damage from the storm. Then again, the stupid thing could just keep barreling north or turn west and miss central Florida altogether.

There was the studio up ahead. He slowed as he drove by. The lights were on, but he didn’t see anyone inside. Darn, he’d missed her. He had no plans of stopping to talk, of course, but he really wished he could have seen her.

Wait. There in the breezeway. Two silhouettes. His car slowed to a crawl. He saw two people talking, a man and a woman. They were in the shadows, but he could swear it was Marilyn and Roberto.

She was leaning against the back wall. He had his arm straight out, just over her, standing very close.

Too close.

His heart sank. He sighed audibly and drove off. So that was it, then. He really was losing her to this guy. Within half a block, he started imagining holding Marilyn in his own arms. When was the last time he’d held her like that and kissed her tenderly?

No, please, God
.
I’ve lost the most beautiful, precious woman on earth, and there’s nothing I can do now.

“Marilyn, if you feel that strongly about it, of course you can wear the old dress.”

“Old dress? Roberto, that dress cost a lot of money, and it’s less than two years old.”

“That’s not what I meant. I only meant—”

She pushed his arm down. “And there’s something else I need to say. Right now.” She backed several steps away from him. “I don’t know if I gave you the impression that I’m interested in a relationship with you, but if I have, I—”

“Marilyn, no, I’m sorry. I know you are a married woman. I was only being playful.”

“Well, you’ve been getting a little too playful the last couple of times we’ve been together.”

He stood up straight, all the swagger out of his step. “Really, I’m sorry. I meant no harm. I’ll behave, I promise.” He was smiling again. “Can we still be friends?” He held out his hand.

“Just friends?” she asked.

“Just friends,” he repeated.

“Okay.” She shook his hand but kept her distance.

“And you’ll still dance with me on Saturday?”

“In my
old
red dress?” she said.

“Yes, it’s a lovely dress,” he said. “I’m sorry I said that. So what time shall I pick you up? Five o’clock?”

“How about I meet you there?” she said as she turned and headed for the parking lot. “You stand right there. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To give you back the red dress you gave me. It’s in the car.”