Last Dance (15 page)

WHEN DJ RETURNED TO THE WAITING AREA, SHE
somehow knew that she needed to keep the news about Casey’s mother to herself.

“Who was on the phone?” Casey asked.

“My grandmother.”

“Oh…”

“She wanted to know if you were, uh, being treated or not. I told her we had to wait.”

Casey tossed the magazine back onto the pile and looked at her watch. “This is going to be a very long hour.”

“Anyway Grandmother is coming over.”

“Here?” Casey looked alarmed.

“Yes.”

“Did you tell her to come?”

“No, of course not. She’s coming because she wants to. She cares about you, Casey.”

“I don’t want her to come.” Casey looked anxious. “Call her back and tell her not to come.”

“It’s too late. She said she’s on her way.”

Casey glanced around the waiting area, reminding DJ of a trapped animal. “But why is she coming? There’s nothing she can say or do to stop this. It’s not like I need parental consent or anything.”

“I know.” DJ put her hand on Casey’s shoulder. “She’s just coming because she wants to.”

Casey grabbed up another magazine, flipping frantically through it without appearing to even look. DJ leaned back, closed her eyes, and silently prayed. After about ten minutes, Grandmother arrived. She sat next to Casey, looking out of place in the shabby waiting area in her pale green silk pant-suit, flowing silk scarf, and perfectly styled gray hair. But she didn’t seem to notice as she took Casey’s hand and began to talk.

“Now, I know you’re not going to be pleased to hear this, but I spoke with your mother, Casey, and she’s getting a flight out here. If not today, tomorrow.”

“What? You called my mother?” Casey’s voice was loud enough to draw the attention of the receptionist, who came over to see if there was a problem.

“I am Casey’s guardian,” Grandmother informed her.

“Casey doesn’t need permission for this procedure,” the receptionist said a bit brusquely.

“I am aware of that. I only came to ask her to postpone this appointment until her mother arrives from California.”

“Oh…” The receptionist looked around. “Maybe you should use one of the counseling rooms to talk privately.”

Grandmother thanked her and the three of them were soon sitting in a small room, but it was Grandmother who did the talking. Casey and DJ listened.

“I’m going to tell you both a story that no one else knows,” Grandmother began. “Or rather a confession.” She looked at
Casey. “I was exactly where you are once. I was unmarried and pregnant, and I thought the only way out was to get an abortion, which wasn’t even legal at the time. But that’s how desperate I was.”

DJ tried not to look as shocked as she felt.

“In my industry, back in the fifties, unwed pregnancies were even less acceptable than nowadays. To me the only way out seemed to be to get rid of the baby and get on with my life.”

“So did you?” asked Casey.

“No.” Grandmother looked at DJ. “The baby was Desiree’s mother, Elizabeth.” Her face softened as she continued. “But it wasn’t easy…and it was a blow to my pride…but I never regretted it. Not for a minute.” She smiled at DJ. “I still don’t. It was my mother who encouraged me to keep the baby. She wanted to help raise Elizabeth and I let her. I suppose I do regret that.”

“You mean you regret keeping the baby?” asked DJ. “Instead of giving her up for adoption?”

“No…no.” Grandmother shook her head. “I regret allowing my mother to raise Elizabeth. I wish I’d done that myself. But I was young and headstrong and my career was all I cared about.” She turned to Casey. “I’m not suggesting you’ll want to keep and raise your child, Casey, I’m just saying I don’t believe you’ll regret talking to your mother about it before you make your final decision.”

“Please, talk to your mother first,” DJ urged her.

Casey was crying again.

Grandmother reached over and put her hand on Casey’s. “We respect that this is your decision, Casey, but if you make
it too hastily…you could be sorry. And then it will be too late. What can it hurt to wait a week or so?”

DJ handed Casey a tissue box, waiting as Casey loudly blew her nose.

“I guess I can postpone my appointment for a week.”

Casey stayed home from school on Tuesday and in the afternoon DJ drove her to the airport to pick up her mother. Casey fidgeted and fretted all the way there, but once Mrs. Atwood embraced her daughter in a long, tight hug, it seemed that Casey’s anxiety slowly melted away. DJ listened as they talked during the trip back home. She could tell Casey’s mom was treading carefully, trying to be understanding and supportive. And Casey steadily warmed up until DJ began to feel that hope was in sight.

“I think you should come home with me,” Mrs. Atwood told Casey as DJ pulled up to the house.

“What about school?”

“You can finish up at your old high school.”

“But graduation is only a few weeks away.”

Suddenly they were arguing, and DJ made a quick exit from the car, hoping they could iron this one out themselves. She understood Casey’s mother’s reasoning—it did seem like a solution for Casey to go home. But she also understood Casey’s desire to finish the school year in Crescent Cove. Except now everyone knew Casey was pregnant. Could she live with that?

On Wednesday morning, DJ and Eliza let Lane drive them over to New Haven in his car. DJ felt like a fifth—or was it a third?—wheel as she sat in the backseat. She had tried to entice Conner to come with her at the last minute, but he said
it was pointless since he had no desire to attend Yale, much less to see it. She was worried that she’d offended him simply by asking.

As they got out of the car, DJ wondered why she wanted to see Yale herself, and then she remembered it was for Grandmother’s sake. The campus seemed a lot larger than Wesleyan U had been. But that didn’t impress her. Nor did it impress her the way Lane and Eliza began to talk about how superior this school was to all others. If anything, it made her want to just get this over with and get out of there. But Lane insisted on giving them the whole tour. And so DJ tagged along.

‘And this is the athletics department,” Lane announced as they approached another set of buildings, “home of the Bulldogs.” He elbowed DJ. “Bet you can’t wait to check it out.”

She grimaced. Mostly she was just feeling overwhelmed and eager to end the tour.

“Come on,” he urged her, “let’s go in.”

With Lane leading the way, they wandered around the building until a man in Bulldog sweats finally asked them if they were lost.

“We’ll be new students in the fall and we’re just checking out the athletic department.” Lane pointed to DJ. “She’s the athlete.”

The man smiled at DJ. “What’s your sport?”

“She does it all,” Eliza bragged. “She’s like queen of the jock girls at our high school.”

DJ felt her cheeks growing hot. “Well, not exactly.”

“It’s true,” Lane agreed. “In fact, she was supposed to make an appointment with your athletics director, but she didn’t.”

“Why not?” he asked DJ.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure that Yale is the right school for me.”

He looked slightly offended, but then laughed. “Now there’s a line I don’t hear every day.”

“I’m sorry.” She smiled. “It’s just that I thought I’d like a small college.”

“Yale is small,” he said, “compared to a lot.”

“I know…”

“Would you like me to see if one of our directors is available?”

“Why not?” Lane answered for her.

“Sure,” she told him. “Why not?”

“Can I get your name?” he asked. So they exchanged names, and he led them to an office with a waiting area where the three of them sat down.

“You didn’t have to do this,” DJ said to Lane.

“But you need to get a feel for this place,” he told her, “before you completely write it off.”

“DJ Lane?” the receptionist called out. DJ hopped up and went over. “Ms. Garcia said to come on back. Fourth door to the left.”

So DJ hesitantly walked back and timidly knocked on the door. “Come in, come in,” called out a petite, dark-haired woman. “You’re DJ Lane from Crescent Cove, and I’ve been hoping you’d come visit.”

“You know who I am?”

Ms. Garcia shook DJ’s hand and held up a folder. “We’ve got the dirt on you, DJ.”

“Dirt?”

“Ms. Jones, your basketball coach, sent us quite a package.”

“Really?” DJ blinked. “I did ask my coaches to send reference letters.”

“And they certainly did. You’re quite a legend in your high school.” She held up a newspaper clipping. “You saved a child’s life, then won as a write-in for homecoming queen with a cast on your foot. You excel in most sports, have won best sportsmanship awards…and you’ve even modeled professionally?” She looked at DJ with what almost seemed like disbelief.

“Yes…that’s true.”

“So why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

DJ made a face. “Because my grades aren’t exactly stellar.”

Ms. Garcia chuckled. “Well, your GPA isn’t exactly top drawer. Although we did notice your grades improved during your senior year. That says a lot. And your SATs are quite impressive. So our deduction was that you were less motivated academically than you were athletically.”

DJ smiled. “That’s true.”

Then Ms. Garcia proceeded to tell DJ all the reasons she needed to seriously consider Yale. She explained that while they didn’t give athletic scholarships, they did have financial-aid packages and other incentives. After that she took DJ, Eliza, and Lane on a more complete tour of the athletic department as well as some other places where only administration was authorized to go. It was around one when she invited them to have lunch with her.

While DJ liked Ms. Garcia and was even warming up to the campus, something about it just didn’t feel right to her. But to be polite, she kept this to herself as they said their good-byes, and as Ms. Garcia encouraged her to be in touch.

“Okay, DJ,” Eliza said as they drove home, “I’m trying really hard not to be jealous. I mean, here I am dying to get into that school and it’s like they’re offering it to you on a silver platter and you’re pushing it away.”

“I’m not pushing it away.”

“You were polite,” Eliza continued, “but I could see it in your eyes. You’re going to decline.”

“Not necessarily,” DJ protested. “I’ve got all these brochures and things to read, and I’ll go online, and I’ll talk to my grandmother.”

“And then you’ll tell them no,” Eliza finished.

“No…” DJ considered this. “Then I’ll pray about it.”

“Do you think God is going to write the answer in the sky?” teased Lane.

“No…but I’m hoping he’ll scribble a little something in my heart.”

They laughed. But DJ wasn’t kidding. She was going to pray, and she did hope that God would give her a nudge one way or the other.

AT DINNER ON WEDNESDAY
,
Grandmother had several announcements to make. “As you can see, Casey and her mother are not here tonight. They spent the day together in an attempt to try to figure out the best solution for Casey’s…uh, Casey’s challenge.”

“Everyone knows that Casey’s pregnant,” DJ told her. “It’s okay to say it, Grandmother.”

“Fine. They’re trying to work out a plan for Casey’s pregnancy.” Grandmother looked a little troubled. “I do hope that they will at least stay until
after
the fashion show. We’re already down to eleven girls and I don’t want to lose any more.”

“Does that mean that you spoke to Madison?” Eliza asked nervously.

“Not yet.” Grandmother scanned the faces at the table. “Which brings me to my next topic. I have an idea, a way to quietly bring Madison to justice, but it will require everyone’s cooperation.” Then she proceeded to tell them about a crazy plan to hold a mock court. “As you know, we’re going to have
our dress rehearsal for the fashion show on Friday night. But I have decided we’ll be starting much earlier than planned. Four o’clock. I will invite Madison’s mother and any other mothers who would like to attend.” She got a slightly catty look now. “But they won’t know that we’re holding court. Everything will be done fairly. I’ve asked the general to help. What do you think?”

Everyone was onboard, including Eliza, and Grandmother made them promise not to leak the news. “I’ll phone the mothers and tell them this is their invitation to a sneak peek at the fashion show. And between our court session and the dress rehearsal, I’ll have Clara serve a buffet dinner.” Grandmother chuckled. “Who says justice can’t be fun?”

When DJ went up to the ballroom on Friday afternoon, she was surprised to see that tables and chairs were arranged into what actually looked like a makeshift courtroom. Grandmother had even managed to secure a flag, which was planted by what appeared to be the judge’s desk.

“Oh, there you are,” Inez called from behind a curtained-off area that DJ assumed would serve as the dressing room for that night’s dress rehearsal. “Your grandmother said you’d come give me a hand.”

DJ went back to see racks of clothes and Inez steaming away. “Do you want me to help steam?” she asked.

“No. I want you and some of the girls to bring Eliza’s paint-stained clothes from the basement. Your grandmother had me stash them last week. You are to bring them up here. ‘Exhibit A.’ And hurry. It’s close to four. We don’t want anyone to see you.”

DJ laughed. “I get it.” DJ went and found Taylor and Rhiannon and they gathered up the clothes and brought them
up to the ballroom, where Inez instructed them to hang them on one of the dress racks. They took their time to make sure that all the paint splatters were clearly visible.

Then they went downstairs to where Grandmother was greeting the mothers and daughters and acting like nothing out of the ordinary was about to happen. But DJ could see that Madison looked nervous. She tossed several glances DJ’s way but DJ just smiled, then looked the other way. Finally everyone was there, including the general, and Grandmother invited them all to go upstairs. “You will find that your chairs have place cards on them just like a New York show.”

Of course, most of them were surprised to see the courtroom-like setup, but some didn’t seem to notice, and soon everyone was in their places. Madison and her mother, as well as Tina and Jolene, were sitting on the defense side. The other mothers and some of the impartial models were in the jurors’ chairs. And Eliza, DJ, and Grandmother were on the prosecution side. The general was acting as judge, and quickly bringing the courtroom to “order,” which was hardly necessary since everyone was silent.

Grandmother stood. “I want to welcome you to fashion court,” she told them. “We have had a fashion crime that needs to be resolved before we proceed with the fashion show.” She turned toward the curtained-off area. “Will the evidence please be brought forward?”

Inez appeared with the rack of dramatic-looking, paint-splattered clothes, and almost everyone gasped. “These garments belong to Eliza Wilton and were damaged last Saturday following our modeling practice session.” Grandmother went over to remove what had once been an exquisite prom dress and held it up. One of the mothers let out a loud gasp. “This was the dress that Eliza was going to wear to the prom that night.” She glanced at Eliza’s mother. “Is that right?”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Wilton said with some uncertainty.

“Do you recall the cost of this dress?”

“I purchased it in Paris with Euros, but the American equivalent would be around two thousand dollars.”

Another gasp rippled through the crowd.

“The only people in the house when this crime occurred, besides my staff, who have been cleared, will now stand up.” Grandmother read off the names until Jolene, Tina, Madison, Ariel, Haley, and Daisy were standing.

“What about the Carter House girls?” asked Jolene’s mother.

“They all left early for Yobushi’s spa,” Grandmother said. “Now, of the girls standing, are there any of you who would like to make a statement?”

“I will,” said Daisy. She told them that when she left, there were still several girls in the house.

“Which girls?” Grandmother asked.

“Madison, Tina, Jolene, and Ariel.”

Ariel raised her hand. “I left right after Daisy and Haley. Miss Walford and I walked out together. You can ask her when she gets here.”

“Thank you.” Grandmother nodded. “Everyone except Madison, Tina, and Jolene may sit down. Now, would anyone else like to make a statement before we proceed?”

“I didn’t do it,” Jolene said quickly.

“I didn’t do it either,” Tina added.

“But you know who did?”

Tina and Jolene both glanced at Madison, then looked away.

“Tina and Jolene may sit down. Now, Madison,” Grandmother said calmly, “is there something you’d like to tell us? Or shall I call on witnesses for the prosecution?”

Madison just stood there.

“I call DJ Lane to the witness stand,” Grandmother announced.

“Okay!” Madison said loudly. “You seem to think I did this. What are you going to do about it? This isn’t a real court.”

“You’re right. It’s not a real court. Would you prefer this to be taken to a real court? The estimate of damages is nearly thirty thousand dollars.”

Madison didn’t answer.

“It’s your choice,” Grandmother said. “Abide by this jury’s ruling where no criminal record is involved or take it to the next level.”

“Madison,” said her mother firmly, “did you do this or not?”

Madison still didn’t answer.

“Would you like us to proceed with the evidence and the witnesses?” Grandmother asked.

“No!” Madison shouted.

“Then you confess?”

“Come on, Madison,” Tina urged, “we saw you go in Eliza’s room.”

“And you’re accomplices,” Madison said quickly. “Right, Mrs. Carter?”

“Did your friends know you were going in there to—”

“We didn’t know she was going to do
that!”
Jolene pointed to the rack of ruined clothes.

“That’s true,” Tina added. “She said she was going to do something with Eliza’s prom dress. That’s all we knew. We just waited outside.”

“Guarding the door?” Grandmother asked.

They didn’t answer.

“We’ll deal with that later,” Grandmother said. “Madison, I will ask you one last time. Did you pour paint on Eliza’s clothes?”

“Yes.” Madison looked down, and her mother just shook her head.

Grandmother looked at the jury. “In that case, it appears we don’t need the jury.” She turned to the judge. “How do you rule?”

The general looked somber as he opened an envelope and read. “We the court find Madison Dormont guilty of a fashion crime in the first degree.” A few giggles escaped at this, but he continued. “The punishment for this crime will be to pay the fine of thirty thousand dollars, to be used as a donation to the Crescent Cove Boys and Girls Clubs, or to perform community service by volunteering at the Crescent Cove Boys and Girls Clubs for a total of one thousand hours or a combination of the above.”

“One thousand hours?” Madison looked stunned. “What is that? Like the rest of my life?”

“There’s more,” the general said. “The hours of community service can be shared by friends and acquaintances of Madison, although Madison will be the responsible party.”

Madison sank into her chair and groaned. The general gave the gavel a loud whack, announcing that court was adjourned.

Then Grandmother took the floor again. “I’m sorry to begin with that sad little bit of business,” she told everyone, “but it seemed the easiest way to resolve this for everyone. I thank you for your patience and cooperation.”

“But shouldn’t Madison apologize?” asked Haley’s mom.

“Yeah,” agreed Daisy and several others.

“We won’t force apologies,” Grandmother said.

“Well, I want to apologize.” Tina pointed to the rack. “I mean, I didn’t realize that Madison was going to do all that. If
I’d known, I would have said something.” She turned to Eliza. “I’m sorry, Eliza.”

Eliza just nodded.

“I’m sorry too,” Jolene said.

Eliza nodded again, but this time she spoke. “You guys really should tell DJ you’re sorry. DJ gave up her dress so that I’d have something to wear. And you should apologize to Rhiannon and Taylor. They had to scramble to find something for DJ to wear. While you three were carefully putting on your prom dresses, ones you’d probably picked out long ago, we were rushing around like crazy.” Eliza smiled. “But in a way it was good. It shows you who your real friends are.”

Madison’s mother stood now, then turned and pulled Madison to her feet. “I want to apologize for my daughter. And I will make sure she pays her fine…one way or another.”

DJ was surprised to see that Madison was crying. Whether they were tears of shame or regret, she didn’t know, but DJ decided to speak up. “You know, Madison,” she began slowly, “I was really hoping you were going to own up to all this and that you’d apologize, because I had decided that if you apologized, I would offer to help out by volunteering at the Boys and Girls Clubs for you. But if—”

“I’m sorry,” Madison sobbed out. “I am a horrible, horrible person.” She stared at the ruined clothes and then at Eliza and DJ and the others. “But you Carter House girls—you just make me so mad. You all have it so easy and you always come out on top and—”

“We
have it easy?”
Taylor said loudly. “You think we have it
easy?”

“Right,” said Casey. “I’m pregnant, and thanks to you and Jolene the whole school knows about it. That’s real easy.”

“And what about that online scam that someone did on Eliza recently?” DJ shot out. “That nearly destroyed her.”

“And it’s no secret that I was in alcohol treatment recovery” Taylor told them. “You think that was easy?”

“And my mom’s been in a drug-treatment program,” Rhiannon said softly. “I’m sure most of you know about that already but it’s not been real
easy.’“

“And DJ’s mother died tragically a couple of years ago,” Grandmother said, “and she was forced to come live with her crazy old grandmother.”

Kriti held up her hands. “I don’t have anything too terrible,” she said, “but it’s not easy being Hindu…and short amidst a bunch of tall, leggy models.”

This made them all laugh. Then Grandmother invited everyone, including Madison and her mother, to a light dinner before the real dress rehearsal. Once they were downstairs, an amazing thing happened. Old petty grudges, and big ones too, seemed to be set aside. And some of the girls actually began to talk to each other. Some girls even apologized, and some shed genuine tears. Even Madison told Eliza she was sorry; whether it was sincere or not remained to be seen. But Grandmother decided to allow her to participate in the fashion show. “But do not forget you’re on parole,” she warned her. “One misstep and you’re out.” Madison shook her hand in agreement.

And in DJ’s opinion, the events seemed almost miraculous.

Before long, Miss Walford arrived, and Grandmother was clapping her hands and telling the girls it was time to go upstairs and get ready. “Dylan will be here soon and we want to put our best foot forward.”

The girls quickly rearranged the room from a courtroom to a fashion show, then hurried to the dressing area where
several of Dylan’s assistants were now on hand to help. Then Miss Walford lined the girls up, starting with Eliza.

“Dylan wanted Taylor to go first,” Eliza pointed out. “And DJ was to follow.”

Miss Walford scowled at Eliza. “I’m in charge of the choreography.”

“But she’s right,” Madison said. “Dylan did have a different lineup.”

Miss Walford turned toward Madison. “I’m surprised you’re taking their side.”

“Let’s just do it Miss Walford’s way,” DJ said quickly. “For now.”

And so they began, but the show had barely started when Dylan was yelling, “Stop! Stop!”

DJ and Taylor exchanged glances, listening from behind the curtain as Dylan demanded to know who had changed his lineup. Miss Walford explained that some of the girls had been late one day, but Dylan cut her off. “These are my clothes,” he told her, “these are my models, and this is my show.”

“That’s right,” Grandmother agreed.

“But I’m the choreographer,” Miss Walford sputtered.

“And we appreciate that,” Grandmother told her calmly. “But Dylan is the director. If you can’t take direction from him, you—”

“I was
volunteering
to help,” Miss Walford said indignantly. “But if this is how I’m treated—I don’t have to take this.”

DJ and Taylor peeked out in time to see her stomp out of the room. But before she was gone, Dylan clapped his hands. “All right, girls,” he called out, “back to my original lineup. Taylor? DJ? Where are you?”

Before long, they were lined up according to Dylan’s direction and the dress rehearsal continued. That same feeling of sisterhood
and camaraderie that had begun during dinner continued, and by the time they finished their last run-through, even Dylan was impressed. “You girls work so well together,” he told them. “So much better than before.” He bowed. “Tomorrow’s show will be a success!”