Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
“My father died suddenly in his sleep.
I went home for the first time in almost ten years for his funeral.”
—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,
Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes
The community room at Shady Cove had been transformed with a little creative lighting and a DJ booth. All the tables had been pushed to the sides, creating a dance floor in the middle.
“Let’s get this party started,” the sixteen-year-old DJ yelled from the corner of the room. He was Mr. Staple’s grandson and, therefore, cheap.
“Look at you two.” Gloria glided our way. “You’re just perfect.”
“What are you wearing?” It was a confection of a dress, pale pink with ruffles and flounces for days. Mounds of petticoats, maybe even a hoop underneath the skirt.
“Is that how you greet a friend?” Gloria produced a folded fan from somewhere. Honestly, that skirt was big enough to hide an entire elementary school of students… and their parents. With a flick of her wrist, the fan expanded and she waved it furiously. “Really, Iris.”
“Did you get that thing at Scarlett O’Hara-R-Us?”
“I got it several years ago when a costume shop went out of business. I’ve never had a chance to wear it, but this seemed like the perfect time.”
“You know the theme is 1940s, not 1840s.”
She tapped my shoulder with her fan. “Of course, darling. But you only live once and time is ticking.”
Hallie hadn’t taken her eyes off Gloria, a look of wonder on her face. “You look like a princess. Like a real live princess.”
Gloria laughed. “Then you shall be my lady-in-waiting. Do you know what that is?”
Hallie shrugged but she took the hand Gloria offered. As they walked away, I could hear Gloria explaining that a lady’s maid kept the princess “entertained” and that was her job this evening.
“That dress has to weigh more than she does,” Abe said.
“She likes to make an entrance, if you couldn’t tell. Let’s go get something to drink.” We took the most direct route to the refreshments but that didn’t keep everyone from stopping us every other step just to say hello, aiming suspicious glances at Abe.
At the refreshments table, Jonathan was there, dressed in his nice plaid shirt and clutching a cup of punch.
He rarely came to these things; nothing but nonsense, he liked to say.
Although Elizabeth, his wife, often shut the dance down with her moves.
I liked to imagine she’d steamrolled right over him when they met. He hadn’t stood a chance against her.
He took one look at Abe, lingering on his ear gauges, and his expression turned sour. “Who is this?”
“This is Abe, Hallie’s father. You met her at BINGO night.”
He grunted.
“Abe, this ray of sunshine is Jonathan Clark.”
“Hi, Mr. Clark, I don’t know if you remember me, but I used to mow your lawn when I was a kid.”
“I don’t know about that. I surely would have remembered all those”—he waved a hand in Abe’s general direction—“things. You look like a criminal.”
“To be fair, I was ten. I hadn’t turned to a life of crime yet.”
“What are your intentions with Iris here?”
“I think that’s obvious. I plan to kidnap her and hide her in my attic.”
Jonathan pointed a finger in Abe’s face. “Don’t even think about it. Iris is a nice girl. Of course, she’s a terrible dresser and can’t dance worth a damn and those blue streaks make her look like a clown—”
“I know who I’m asking to write my next dating profile,” I muttered.
“—but she’s got a good heart, that one. I’ll not stand around while some… some ragamuffin corrupts her.”
“I promise I’ll be very careful with her heart,” Abe said solemnly.
Jonathan leaned in. “You better do just that. It’s not an empty threat. I know people.” He took a finger and ran it across his throat. With that, he turned on his heels and stomped off without waiting for a reply.
“He seems nice,” Abe said, amusement flashing in his eyes.
“I have no idea what that was about,” I said. “He mostly just rants about the state of our youth and argues with his wife.”
But it turned out that Jonathan Clark was only the beginning. Every man in the place suddenly became my long-lost grandfather, grilling Abe with rapid-fire questions:
“How do you like your steak? There is a right answer.”
“What’s your credit score?”
“What’s your social security number? I need it for the background check.”
“What’s one thing you hoped no one would ever find out about you? It’s better if you just tell me instead of me finding out on my own.”
Meanwhile, every woman in the place smiled and patted his arm and giggled when they met him. They said things like:
“Aren’t you just darling?”
“Such a big, strong young man.”
“Do you ride a motorcycle? Please say yes.”
“Oh, I dropped my napkin. Would you pick it up for me?”
That last one was Donna Small, and she asked at least three times. She was definitely not keeping her eyes on the napkin when Abe obliged.
When we finally landed at the table with Gloria and Hallie, Abe looked half-amused, half-shellshocked. “What is this place? I think my life has been threatened four times tonight.”
“Everyone is very fond of our Iris.” Gloria patted my hand. “When word got around that she was bringing someone with her to the dance, it caused a bit of a stir. She’s never brought anyone here with her.”
Abe shot me a surprised look. “Not even the ex?”
Gloria scowled. “No, thank goodness. Much better that way. I’d rather not spend my golden years in prison.”
“He’s not a villain,” I said, taking a sip of my glass of punch.
Gloria harrumphed. “If you say so.”
“What would you do?” Hallie asked.
Gloria’s smile was a touch scary. “Only what he deserved.”
At Hallie’s slightly horrified expression, I rushed to reassure her. “She’s joking. She’d never last a day in prison, anyway. No mirrors.”
“No mirrors? Is that true?” Gloria was now the one who looked horrified. “That’s some sort of cruel and unusual punishment. My goodness. Mirrors are the window to the soul.”
“Eyes are the window to the soul,” I said.
“Well, it should be mirrors. Write that down for my memoir.” She looked at me expectantly and I made a big deal about taking my phone from the small purse I was carrying.
“Mirrors are the window to the soul,” I muttered as I typed. “What does that even mean?”
“I’ll explain it in the memoir,” she said absently. “Alright, you two, I haven’t seen you dance once yet. Go on.”
I hadn’t been joking when I implied I was not a good dancer. I wasn’t. Embarrassingly so. “Maybe not right now—”
Abe interrupted me. “Let’s go.”
He stood and held out a hand. My eyes drifted from that hand to his face. A corner of his mouth curled upward. I hesitated, feeling skittish. “We don’t have to.”
“I want to.” He watched me, steady and sure.
Gloria tsked. “This is getting very boring. Just dance with the man. He’s not asking you to marry him and have his babies. Yet.”
I sputtered and whipped my head around to glare at her.
She blinked at me innocently. “Come, Hallie, let’s go find more interesting people to talk to.”
With a fair bit of maneuvering, she managed to get up and glide off in that monstrous dress with Hallie in tow.
“That woman is a menace. We don’t have to dance because she says so,” I said.
“She’s watching us like a hawk. What happens when she doesn’t get her way?”
I sighed. “Chaos.”
“That’s what I thought.” He led me onto the dance floor. The upbeat song ended and, like this was a bad romcom, a slow song began. I froze, but Abe slid a hand around my waist and turned me toward him. His other hand settled on my back.
“I’m not really a dancer, honestly. I’m more of a ‘sit on the sidelines and judge everyone who is dancing’ kind of gal.” Based on the number of eyeballs pointed at us, many were participating in a similar activity.
“Put your arms around my shoulders,” he said. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
Slowly, I did what he asked. Being a couple of inches taller made it awkward at first. But as I relaxed, I found I kind of liked it. I didn’t have to crane my neck or stare at the buttons on his shirt.
Abe stayed true to his word. It was easy to follow him. His hair brushed my hand; it was cool and soft to the touch.
“You’re good at this,” I said.
“You’ll have to thank my mother for that. All of us had to take ballroom dancing lessons. Mom said it was an important part of being a gentleman.”
I laughed. “No, she didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, she did. The only three boys in the class with fifteen girls. We were very popular. But the worst was when she made us practice at home with Ali. She hated those dance lessons more than us.” He laughed softly.
Absently, he reached up and drew one of my wrists down, placing my hand on his chest right over his heart, and covered it with his own.
He didn’t seem to even notice he’d done it.
Through his shirt, I could feel the beat of his heart, strong and steady.
Like the rest of him. The first song ended, and another began.
We didn’t stop, just held the same position, swaying.
“The only dance I ever went to in high school was the prom.” And that was because Aidan had been the first boy to ever ask me to anything—a dance, the movies, to sit with him at lunch. “With Aidan.”
“Makes sense.”
I tilted my head in confusion. “Why?”
“I bet all the boys were scared of you.”
I stumbled but he steadied me, pulling me a little closer. “What?”
“That came out wrong.” He shrugged. “You just have a thing.”
“A thing?” The song changed to hip-hop, and the residents rushed to the middle of the floor to “whip it.”
He took my arm and led me to the exit door on the other side of the DJ. It opened onto a little patio. The air outside was stifling. This time of year the nights weren’t much cooler than the days.
“Yeah, a thing. You’re a little intimidating, I guess.” He sat down on one of the two benches and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “Not with Hallie, though. Or here with Gloria and the residents. You’re… softer.”
I sat next to him on the bench. “You make me sound like I’m some sort of people repellent.”
“Not that. I think you’re”—he paused, searching for a word—“careful who you let in.”
He wasn’t wrong. I worried my bottom lip. “Well, what about you? I am sure you make friends with everyone.”
“I used to. I had a lot of friends. Or I thought they were my friends.” The fabric from his pants brushed my knee.
His expression turned pensive, almost pained.
“When I left Two Harts, I made a lot of dumb mistakes. Hung out with people who took advantage of my age and level of stupidity. Everyone’s an idiot at nineteen.
I wasn’t reliable. I took things for granted. ”
“What happened?”
“Ending up in jail was a big eyeopener.”
“You did get those tattoos in the slammer, didn’t you?”
“It was just for the night. Drunk and disorderly. I was basically becoming exactly what my dad always said I’d become.”
“Your dad loves having you home, you know that, right?” Eli Ramos had talked non-stop about Abe’s return for weeks before he and Hallie arrived. “I’m honestly surprised he didn’t rent out a couple of billboards and hold a parade in your honor.”
Surprise flashed in his eyes. “Really? The two of us could never see eye-to-eye on anything. I was always the disappointment. I wasn’t good at school. Didn’t want to go to college.”
He paused, but I kept quiet. I wanted him to keep talking.
“I think I needed to leave, but that doesn’t mean it was easy.”
“And now? How are things with him?”
“Better, but it feels like I’m always trying to prove myself to him, to get him to see I’m not that same kid. I don’t want to give him another reason to push me away.”
My heart turned over. I understood this more than he knew. In my own way, I was desperate to prove myself to my mom, and especially to Mae. But I was afraid and I’d learned that it was easy to cover up fear with other things—sarcasm and indifference and, well, lying.
“Nobody can do that for very long,” I murmured.
Neither of us said anything else, but the sounds of a July evening in Two Harts surrounded us. The cicadas sang; farther away, toads croaked against the soft but insistent rhythmic beat from inside. Fiery shades of orange lit up the sky as the sun began to set.
Abe and I sat there quietly, a gentle, comfortable silence between us. I couldn’t think of any other place I’d rather be.