The Dance (8 page)

Anne joined Nicol, letting Hank and Melanie hold back for a moment. Melanie whispered, “Hank, that was kind of a cheap shot.” Melanie felt a little embarrassed by Hank's remark.

Hank tilted her head, looked Melanie right in the eyes, and smiled. “To know her is to love her, Mel.” Hank looked toward Nicol, who was brightening the lights in the living and dining room area with a dimmer switch on a wall by the closest hallway.

“She is awfully pretty,” Melanie said, searching her memory. Nicol looked familiar for some reason. And it wasn't from seeing her at the studio.

Hank crossed her arms. “And she moves with such a natural rhythm.” She joked as she almost unconsciously pulled her medallion from under her navy blue, hooded sailor's sweater.

Melanie gave her a friendly punch on the arm. “Don't forget, your jeans are
designer
jeans. Let's get some food.”

Nicol introduced Melanie to Janell. Janell was also expensively dressed, wearing a white jacket, matching vest, and white slacks. Her medallion had a dark, green stone. Probably jade, Melanie guessed.

Hank had plopped down in a leather chair with an ottoman on the second tier of the room. She balanced a cup of cider and a plate of sliced cheese, dark rye, and sliced fruit. Anne and Laurie joined her. The three seemed to Melanie to be laughing about something they were trying to keep discreet.

Melanie looked around on her own. With additional light, the living room was even more impressive. Expensive accent lamps were set in groupings with glass tables, creating intimate conversation nooks. Nothing out of the ordinary, though, unless expensive was considered unusual.

Melanie helped herself to food, then chose part of an immense, white sectional sofa that wrapped around the lowest level, nearly surrounding the fireplace. The entire living room was circled by tall, arched windows—about a dozen of them. Ferns and other potted plants hung from the ceiling or spread out and upward from large, decorative pots and clay urns. Multicolored throw pillows were everywhere. All the floor was covered with thick, beige carpet. Paintings, statuary, and nicknacks were scattered, carefully and perfectly, accenting the non-colors.

“Well, Mel, we're certainly not in Kansas anymore.” Hank moved to sit by Melanie.

Melanie realized she was glad to have Hank next to her. She needed Hank as an anchor in reality. She nodded and sipped at a cup of hot chocolate that Nicol had made for her. “I guess this is the ‘lap of luxury' we've heard so much about.”

Melanie heard music. The fire had been crackling but she hadn't tuned in to it until now. “Nice background music.”

“Jazz with a slow sax. There's a tidy fortune's worth of stereo stuff over there by that lamp with the black shade.” Hank laughed softly. “Enjoy it, Mel, but don't get too spoiled.”

Jean Whitney joined them. Nicol and Anne sat nearby, sipping cups of coffee. “I was hoping you'd both make it, what with the weather and all,” Jean said.

Melanie still felt a bit cool toward her, though she wasn't sure her feelings were justified. She tried to be friendly. “What's your stone?” she asked.

Hank coughed and sputtered, then hid a smile behind her cup.

“My medallion?” Jean replied. Jean patted the necklace, which looked equally as old and expensive as the one Melanie wore. But Jean was wearing a second necklace, the two detracting from each other, Melanie thought. She knew Hank's cough said she thought so, too. Show-off, Hank would have said. Neither piece of jewelry was complemented by the red jumpsuit Jean wore.

Jean touched the stone in her medallion. “This is rose coral.” Then she lifted part of the other necklace. “And this is Egyptian gold and lapis.”

Hank and Melanie exchanged glances.

“It's a gift from Madame Leona,” Jean said.

Hank set her cup on the table with a conspicuous clank. “Actually, Mel, it was originally a gift to Pauline McMasters. Right, Jean?”

Now it was Melanie's turn to choke. They were supposed to be subtle about this. Maybe Hank didn't know the meaning of the word.

Jean sent a dagger of hatred at Hank. “Well, yes, but that doesn't matter.”

Melanie thought it strange that Madame Leona would take back gifts from a girl who had died and give them to another dancer. She knew, though, that Pauline had once had the medallion holding the alexandrite. That was different, since it was attached to the troupe mystique, but the lapis … of course, if it was terribly expensive, Madame Leona might have apologized and simply asked Pauline's parents to return it. Maybe that was something to check out. She also wondered why Pauline had never showed her the second necklace.

“Would you like to see the rest of the apartment, Melanie?” Nicol interrupted them.

“Go ahead, Melanie.” Hank raised her eyebrows and stood up. Maybe she planned to look in another direction while Mel checked out the rest of the condo.

“You can come with us, Hannah,” Nicol added. Melanie gave Hank a look that said, “No, you go the opposite direction. We can cover more territory.”

“I need to find the ladies. I'll join you later.”

Nicol led Melanie up two stairs then up two more to the third level of the condo. Melanie tried not to gawk like a child in a museum for the first time.

“Oh, these are incredible!” She forgot to stay unimpressed when she was confronted by three huge tapestries in the third-level room. They were hung with track lights above them. “They look—they look, medieval.” Melanie gingerly reached out and lightly stroked the material. Each tapestry depicted a garden with fountains, trees, and graceful lords and ladies enjoying each other's company.

“Look in here.” Nicol motioned Melanie through a door that she pulled open slightly. “It's Madame Leona's loom.”

Melanie noticed a touch of pride in the way Nicol said “loom.” For a moment she was speechless. She took a few steps back and looked again at the tapestries. “Do you mean that Madame Leona did these? These are
her
work?”

Nicol nodded and smiled. Melanie warmed immediately without meaning to. She needed to stay neutral to everything. But why had she been thinking of Nicol as hard, brittle, and insensitive? Hank had given her a wrong impression.

“Why is her loom and her work here and not in her own apartment?” Melanie asked. “If I'm not prying.”

“Oh, no. Leona's apartment is brimming over. She asked us to keep some things in our spare room.”

“Oh—Hank—she must see these.” Melanie wanted Hank's opinion of how much the tapestries were worth. There was money here someplace. Of course, having a dance school didn't automatically mean you were poverty stricken, but it was usually the norm. Her mom had told her once that Ilene was struggling to keep the school going. That might have been why she sold it; it was going under anyway.

Nicol grabbed Melanie's arm when she would have gone after Hank. “I know Hannah is your friend, Melanie, but—”

Suddenly, for some reason, Melanie felt awkward alone with Nicol. She turned and headed down the stairs and Nicol followed. Hank leaned against a counter in the kitchen, sipping a Diet Pepsi.

“Hank, you missed some gorgeous tapestries.”

Hank didn't appear impressed. She waited, then watched as Nicol hugged Melanie. “Think warm thoughts,” Nicol said. “And always think of the dance.”

Melanie felt as though she was being dismissed. She followed Hank toward the entryway, assuming they'd find their coats, but she was disappointed that the party was already breaking up. “Say you have to go to the bathroom,” whispered Hank.

Anne was holding the coats. Melanie took hers. “Oh, Anne, do you mind if I use the bathroom? It's a long drive to my house.”

“Thanks, Anne.” Hank took her coat. “Go back to the party. We'll let ourselves out.”

Anne hesitated but turned and disappeared. The second she had, Hank grabbed Melanie's arm. “Come on.” She tugged Melanie down the hall and into the bathroom quickly.

Melanie couldn't help but giggle. “I hope no one saw us. They'll think we're some kind of weirdos.”

“Somebody here is. Look at this, Melanie.” Hank pulled open a drawer under the counter where two light green sinks sparkled. There was a book in the drawer. “Doesn't this look like a cross between the great book at Judgement Day and Lady MacBeth's sketchpad?” Hank lifted out the book. “It weighs about a ton, and here, take a sniff.”

Melanie did, wrinkling her nose. “Smells like Carlsbad Caverns.”

“Does this qualify as something out of the ordinary or doesn't it? I can't read a word of it, either.”

Hank flipped the book open. The printing looked hand lettered, but it wasn't any language Melanie had ever seen.

“Maybe it's a theater prop. Remember Leona remodeled part of the theater for that antique store. She might have found it then.” Melanie hugged herself, feeling suddenly cold. She slipped on her coat. “Considering everything else Madame Leona collects, she probably collects old books, too.” Melanie remembered the old books in the antique shop, and Bryan's teasing that he'd read them. “Yeah, that's it. There were old books in the shop.”

“I never saw anything like this before—in a theater or an antique store.
The Book of Raziel
.” Hank read the title. “At least the title is in English.”

“Maybe it was their recipe book. I didn't like any of the hors d'oeuvres they were serving. I'm still hungry. Let's get out of here. Want to stop and get something to eat before we go home?”

Suddenly Melanie needed to escape the posh apartment. She wanted to go back to her normal little house with its worn furniture, even to her mother's questions.

“Do you think Bryan would forgive me if I called him? Confess that we got kicked out of the party early. Asked him to eat with us?”

“Maybe he'd bring Seth,” Hank suggested. “If we all went together, you and Bryan couldn't fight.”

“Is that your only reason for inviting Seth?” Melanie teased.

“Sure. Look for a place to stop and let's call him.”

Melanie laughed while she peered out the window. “Let's have a
normal
break. I need it. And, in the words of my favorite tough female heroine, Fiddle-dee-dee, we'll think about all this tomorrow.”

eight

“H
E'S NOT HOME
.” Melanie leaned against the phone in the booth outside a self-service gas station. “I know, he probably headed for Seth's house after I broke our date.”

“Yeah, at this very moment, he and Seth are commiserating about how unreliable women are,” Hank agreed.

“Bryan hangs out at Seth's a lot. Seth's parents were killed in a plane crash when Seth was seven. He lives with his aunt and uncle who are both lots older than his parents would have been. They pretty much leave him on his own.”

“Wow, he seems to be a pretty well-adjusted person for having gone through all that. I like him,” Hank admitted.

“He's super smart and super independent. You're the first female I've seen him take a liking to.”

Melanie dialed Seth's number while she filled Hank in on Seth's background. Then she leaned on the wall of the phone booth, more tired than she realized. But maybe some food, not of the gourmet type, would make her feel better. So would seeing Bryan. She'd been more worried about breaking her date with Bryan than she'd let herself admit at the time.

“Seth? Melanie. No, we're not in trouble. Bryan there?”

“Sure is. Want to speak to him?”

“Not particularly. You'll do.”

“I'm glad to hear that. It was time you had sense enough to drop that boring guy and go out with me.”

Melanie heard a scuffle in the background. She knew exactly what was happening. When Bryan realized Seth was talking to her, he'd tried to grab the phone. She started to giggle, wondering who would win.

Bryan's voice came on. “Melanie, is that you? What's wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, I'm fine, Bryan. Just hungry. Have you and Seth eaten? I have a blind date here for Seth if he wants to go with us to Eddie's.”

“He says warn her he knows Braille.”

Hank was listening. She and Melanie made faces at each other. “Bad joke,” Hank whispered.

“We raided Seth's refrigerator,” Bryan said. “You know what that means.”

Seth's aunt and uncle were vegetarians. They didn't make Seth do without meat, but on the other hand, he had to eat what was prepared for the family or cook his own.

“Yeah, tofu delights.”

Melanie was glad Bryan was in a good mood. She realized that both these guys were her good friends.

“I'll take that as a yes. Bye, we're freezing. Whoever gets to Eddie's first get a booth.” She hung up and they ran back to where Hank had risked leaving the car running so she didn't have to turn off the heater.

Melanie and Hank had a head start, so they were heating their insides with big cups of cafe au lait when Bryan and Seth found them.

“So, they didn't feed you at that posh party?” Bryan teased. He smiled at Melanie, and she knew he wasn't really angry with her.

“Try gourmet hors d'oeuvres.” Hank moved over so Seth could slip into the booth beside her. “Let's see, I remember you,” she teased him. “You're the computer whiz that speaks fluent Hebrew. Right?”

“What have you been telling this girl?” asked Seth, looking at Melanie.

“I'll swear, Scouts' Honor, I didn't say a word, Seth. You know your reputation precedes you.”

“I got it through the grapevine,” Hank sang. “But, hey, it's okay. I'm not prejudiced against geniuses. Just don't ask me to compete. I'm a mental dweeb.” Hank grinned. “But I'm a good cook.”

“Do you like tofu?” asked Seth, casually slipping his arm behind Hank on the plastic seat back.