Page 27 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“You’re kidding me.” Sharon grabbed his arm. “That was who I wanted to introduce you to. She’s wonderful. I didn’t know how we were going to fill so many scheduling holes this summer, but then God just dropped her on our doorstep. An answer to prayers, that’s what she is. But I didn’t realize she was staying with you. She told me she was living upstairs in the house of an older gentleman.”
“Well, I can see how the wordgentlemanwould throw a person off.”
Sharon gave him a playful punch on the arm, making Henry smile. “So what does she look like? Maybe I saw her earlier without even realizing it.”
“Oh, honey, believe me, if you saw her tonight, you’d have known it.”
Henry’s heart rate slowed to a deafening thud, sensing the words to come.
“She’s the blonde-haired woman wearing the red dress. And she’s the one you’re going to be dancing with.”
Sharon hadn’t been kidding about needing her dancing shoes. If either of Edith’s heels made it through the night without blistering, it’d be a miracle. Edith checked the time. About another thirty minutes before she needed to cut out for her shift at the crisis house.
Band members—someone said it was the high school jazzband—began warming up their instruments, ready to start another set. Edith could see the Mickey Rooney look-alike craning his neck in search of a dance partner, probably her. The image of him doing the Charleston during the first round of dancing flashed before her. Elbows jutting, feet swiveling front to back. “I still got it!” he’d yelled—right before he sent an entire tray of hors d’oeuvres sailing into the air.
Edith giggled and decided now might be a good time to duck out after all. She could do with a bit of fresh air before she started her night shift.
After slipping out the back exit, she kicked her shoes off, immediately relishing the cool soft grass between her toes as much as the caress of night air on her skin. A narrow path glided away from the banquet hall, and Edith meandered next to it.
The light of the full moon guided her. The muted brassy sound of big band music, competing with the tune of cicadas, followed her. She folded her arms over her stomach, a sense of peace battling with a restless desire to run. Did she need to remind herself she wasn’t a part of this community? This town was nothing more than a stepping-stone while she crossed from the shores of her past to the banks of her future.
But, golly. Who knew stepping-stones could be so much fun?
The turf beneath her feet grew scratchy and stiff. Without realizing it, she’d wandered onto a putting green. A flagpole stuck out from the center. A breeze lifted the flag and sent goose bumps rippling down her arms. She should have grabbed her sweater from the car. Oh, well. It was probably about time to head back anyway.
“There’s going to be a lot of broken hearts if you’re done dancing for the night.”
“Ah!” Edith spun around, yanking the flagpole with her as if she were preparing for a jousting tournament. “Expose yourself.”
A deep throaty chuckle reached her before a figure stepped out of the shadows. “Pretty sure that would get me arrested in this town.”
Edith fumbled with the pole, a nervous laugh squeaking out when she recognized who it was. “It’s you. I saw you. Earlier, I mean. When I was dancing. Not that I was looking for you. I wasn’t looking for you. Don’t you dance?”
Blowing the bangs from her eyes, she finally managed to shove the flagpole into the hole. When she looked up, his uneven gait was ambling up the putting green. “Right.” She winced. “Your leg. Sorry. Of course you don’t dance.”
The glow of moonlight captured his face scrunching up in that self-deprecating manner of his. “Yeah, I don’t think anybody will mistake me for Fred Astaire again.” He stood close enough the breeze carried a hint of his aftershave—a clean spicy scent that pulled her in closer. Close enough to peer up into blue eyes that had darkened beneath the starry sky to a shade of cobalt.
“Fred Astaireagain?” She released a breathless laugh. “Goodness. You must have been quite the dancer.”
“Practically a legend.”
“I wish I could have seen that.”
His fingers brushed against hers on the pole. Edith dropped her hand as if a match had burned it. She was playing with fire, all right.
“I-I should get going. I have to work tonight.” She searched for where she had dropped her shoes. There, by the edge of the putting green. “See you around.”
“What about your dance?”
Something in his voice—desperation?—made her pause. “My dance?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. “You won the silent auction bid. Fair’s fair. I owe you a dance.”
Edith felt her throat working hard to swallow. Silent auction bid?Oh.That’s what Sharon had been wagging her eyebrows about earlier. But why would she put Edith’s name on the bid?
“I think there’s been a mistake.” And there was about to be another one if she couldn’t figure out how to make her feet start working again. Instead of running away from him, they remained glued to the turf.
A familiar rich, fluid melody brought on by clarinets and saxophones floated in the air, swirled around them. Really? “Moonlight Serenade”? Could there be any other song in the world that turned her heart to mush more than this one? “I really need to go.”
