Dancing Shoes

by Lynne Gentry

  “I’m listening.”

  “First, we offer a very generous and competitive salary. Second, we pay off all of said specialist’s medical school debt. Third, we allow said specialist to direct the remodel of the existing unused hospital space in order to best accommodate a practice of this sort. Fourth, not only would such a renovation raise the hospital’s standards, it would increase our community’s prominence in West Texas. People would drive to Mt. Hope for their medical needs and while they’re here, they’ll spend money.”

  “I’m assuming you intend to fund this monumental endeavor.”

  “I do.”

  Saul lowered his cup slowly and looked her dead in the eye. “So you are pregnant?”

  “What?” She stiffened. “No.” It wasn’t until she noticed the smug satisfaction twitching beneath his mustache that she realized he’d actually made a joke. “You’re teasing?”

  “You’re not the only one who can be funny.”

  No one had ever thought her funny. Odd thing was, what she’d just proposed was not intended to be funny in any way, shape, or form. Determined not to let this man get under her skin, Leona clasped her hands and leaned forward. Careful to make sure no one in the diner was within listening distance, she whispered, “J.D.’s attorney-client privilege extends to me now, right?”

  Following suit, Saul leaned in as if they were on some sort of clandestine mission and whispered, “If I was your attorney, then yes, that privilege would extend to you. But other than helping with your house closing, as it stands, you’ve made it clear that I’m only your friend.”

  Friend? That was a generous assessment of their interactions. “I’d like you to be more than a friend, Saul.”

  His eyebrows rose.

  Before he could respond, Leona jumped in to clarify. “I mean, I’d like to hire you as my attorney.”

  He leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms, his willingness to play along over. “What does your son think about this?”

  “David’s far too busy at the church to be bothered with my legal concerns.” Leona wrapped both hands around her coffee cup. “And he’s about to get even busier.”

  “You’re a grown woman. Capable of hiring whomever you please.”

  She was, and she smiled generously to show her appreciation of his recognition. “Do we need to sign something or can we shake on our arrangement?” She offered her hand across the table.

  His hand met hers over steaming coffee. “You can send my retainer check later.” His grip was decisive, sure, and strangely comforting. That he did not let go unsettled all the progress they’d made. “So, tell me, Leona, why do you want the hospital to have a high-risk specialist on staff?”

  She pulled free, wiping the unexpected clamminess from her palm on the napkin in her lap. “I have my reasons.” The heat from his touch would not be so easily rubbed off.

  “And they are?” Saul waited while Angus slid steaming plates of eggs and bacon, along with the check in front of them. “Leona, I can’t help you if I don’t know the whole story.”

  Her glance bounced from the check to the crowd in the diner.

  Angus and Ruthie were busy brewing fresh coffee. Four old men in the opposite corner booth were too deep into their political discussion to care about what she had to say. Most of the other regulars hadn’t made it in yet. Attorney-client privilege or no, she’d promised David she wouldn’t tell their precious secret. She directed her gaze back to Saul. His unwavering eyes communicated his unwillingness to allow his surroundings to pressure him to behave one way or the other. He was who he was. A silent man whose non-judgmental expression radiated trust and safekeeping.

  Leona sucked a deep breath through her nose and leaned in close. “My daughter-in-law is ... pregnant.” The moment the whispered words left her mouth, Leona realized she was relieved to have someone in whom she could confide. Comfortable as she’d felt with Roy, she hadn’t shared at this level with him, even when he’d pried a bit after David and Amy’s hasty exit.

  Saul’s eyes softened. “You’ll make an excellent grandmother.”

  She could tell his compliment was as sincere as his belief in her ability to manage J.D.’s investments. Which was good, since what she was about to ask him would require faith in her judgment. “Thank you, Saul.” She and J.D. had dreamed of grandchildren. But if she was going to accomplish her mission today, she couldn’t allow her mind to focus on the prospect of experiencing this next phase of life alone. “Amy’s pregnancy is also considered high risk.”

  “I see.”

  “Amy must receive the absolute best care available. Right now, she’s forced to drive three hours into the city. During her last trimester, I’m afraid that kind of grueling trip will become far too exhausting.”

  “I can understand your concern, but there are a couple of serious flaws to your plan that must be addressed before we proceed.”

  What was it about this man? One minute they were on the same side. The next, they weren’t. “And they are?”

  “Acquiring hospital privileges requires the physician to undergo an extensive credentialing process. Even if we could hire your specialist today, I’m not certain the hospital could complete the time-consuming process before Amy’s delivery, let alone provide the care she’ll need during the last trimester.”

  She hated being told no. “Mt. Hope’s hospital is small. It’s not like the powers that be are tied-up vetting dozens of doctors. I’m sure the process could be temporarily circumvented, or at least expedited.”

  He gave a doubtful shrug.

  Feeling her mother bear urge to protect her young coming out of hibernation, Leona growled, “And the second flaw?”

  “Isn’t hiring Amy’s doctor overstepping your boundaries?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You told me that one of the reasons you were moving out of the parsonage was so that David and Amy could have a little space. Make their own decisions.”

  She’d expected a lecture on the risk of liquidating stocks, not to have her own words thrown back at her. Who did Saul Levy think he was commenting on how she should manage her family? As far as she knew, he didn’t have children. Besides, he worked for her. Not the other way around. “Providing my daughter-in-law with excellent medical care is not the same as trying to tell her how to be a good pastor’s wife.”

  “So why would you dare try to tell Amy how to be a good mother?”

  Leona reared back as if he’d slapped her. “I’m not.”

  “Hiring her doctor basically says you don’t think she has the ability to manage her health or the health of her child.”

  “Are you going to help me or not?”

  He crossed his arms. “I think there might be more prudent ways to spend your money, and your efforts.”

  “And you want me to pay you for that advice?”

  “That’s how an attorney-client relationship works.”

  “You know what?” Leona grabbed her purse and book, fiery retorts blazing on her tongue. “They’re my children. It’s my money. And I’ll spend my efforts and my money however I want.” She wriggled out of the booth and dug out her wallet. “Who knows I might even go to Africa.” She yanked a twenty from her rainy-day stash. “You’re not the only lawyer in town. I’m not about to make a man rich who thinks I’m a meddling, addlebrained busybody.” She slapped the wrinkled bill on the table. “Send me an itemized statement for the hours you’ve spent settling J.D.’s affairs, drawing up my closing papers, and for this useless session, and I’ll send you a severance check.”

  “It’ll be in the mail this afternoon.” He waved the twenty at her. “Breakfast is on me.”

  “I don’t ever want to owe you anything, Saul Levy.” She wheeled and stormed from the diner.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Could there be a more irritating man on the planet?” Leona ripped open the UPS box. Flesh-colored dance shoes fell to the bedroom floor. “That arrogant little short rib dispensed advice lik
e he was Dave Ramsey and James Dobson rolled into one.”

  Roxie examined the investment book Leona should have thrown in her attorney’s face, and would have if she hadn’t been so distracted by the fire in his baby blue eyes. “Saul dispensed advice because that’s what you’d hired him to do.”

  Leona snatched up her new shoes, the ones the dance instructor claimed were great for beginners, would last for years, and were as durable as they were practical. “Well, he’s fired now.” She plopped on the bed and jammed a foot into one of the satin pumps with the force of Cinderella’s ugly stepsister.

  “I think you should have given him a raise.” Roxie put the book on the nightstand, right beside J.D’s tackle box. “The last thing our struggling little hospital needs is a massive renovation.”

  “Since when do you turn your nose up at progress?”

  “Since I’ve seen our business drop off by fifty percent.”

  Leona sat up, her gut aching. “I didn’t know.”

  “We’ve weathered worse. We’ll weather this.”

  “Maybe this town wouldn’t be dying if people had a reason to come here. And besides ...” Leona bit her tongue.

  “Just as I thought,”—Roxie wagged her finger.—“you’ve got an ulterior motive.”

  She’d promised David she wouldn’t tell anyone about the baby. She’d broken that promise by telling Saul their secret, which to her terror, might technically no longer be covered by attorney-client privilege. Roxie knew her deepest secrets, including how wealthy she was, but it would break David’s heart if she told Roxie about his baby. So she lowered her head to concentrate on the straps and buckles on her shoes and finished up with, “Besides, Saul Levy and I are simply too incompatible to make it work.”

  Roxie held Leona’s navy dance skirt to her own waist and twirled side to side in front of the full-length mirror. “You don’t have to be compatible with the man ... unless you’re planning to marry him.”

  Leona’s head snapped up. “I told you, I’m never going to remarry.”

  “So why have you spent an hour on your hair and a hundred dollars on this chiffon skirt?” Roxie waved the filmy fabric like a Matador cape, daring Leona to charge through.

  Leona snatched the skirt from Roxie’s hands. “Roy’s a friend.” She pulled the skirt over her dance leotard and spun the fitted waistband around until the silky bow draped her left side.

  “People marry their friends,” Roxie held out the tube of lipstick Leona had picked up on her way home from work, a rich pink concoction the teenage clerk said flattered her coloring. “They don’t become enemies until they’ve had a couple of kids and several financial setbacks.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “That’s Roy.” Leona snatched the lipstick.

  “I’ll entertain him,” Roxie purred as she shoved Leona toward the mirror. “You go ahead and put on the finishing touches to your princess costume.”

  Leona barely recognized the woman staring back at her. Hair swept. Fitted leotard. Flimsy skirt. Hopeful eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

  Roxie came and stood behind her, placing both hands on Leona’s shoulders. “Maybe you should stop breathing. If you were actually dead, you wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore for being alive.” She kissed the sting of her words from Leona’s cheek. “Hell’s bells, Leona. It’s time you returned to the land of the living.” Roxie sashayed out the door.

  Leona sunk onto the corner of her new bed, a bed she’d never shared with J.D. What had she been thinking? The man who could replace her husband did not exist. Which was just as well since she had no intention of filling the vacancy.

  Ever.

  She bent and fastened the shoes’ thin straps over her arches. She’d expected to feel like Cinderella tonight. Instead, her hands shook so badly she could hardly manipulate the tiny buckles.

  Unlike the infuriating Saul Levy, Roy McGee was a friend.

  Handsome and charming. True.

  A dance partner for this lonely time in her life. True.

  Nothing more. True.

  Or was it?

  She drew the luscious pink across her aching lips, lips that had not been kissed in almost two years before she’d paid for Roy to ride into town. Is that why she’d sent him money? Had she secretly wanted Roy to come for her? Maybe Roxie and her children were right. Maybe it was time for her to move on with her life. Find someone to make her laugh again. Who cared where he came from or how he got here?

  Muffled voices traveled the hall and hovered outside her bedroom door. Roxie’s and ... she listened more carefully. The other voice was not Roy’s magnanimous tenor. Leona scowled and plastered her ear to the door.

  She jumped back. What is Maxine doing here? Leona smoothed her skirt, checked her hair one last time, then dashed to the living room.

  The lanky woman who hadn’t forgiven her for...everything wrong in her life...sat in Leona’s new club chair, her face buried in her hands, violent sobs wracking her body.

  “Maxine, what’s wrong?” Leona’s confused gaze flew to Roxie.

  Roxie’s hands raised in surrender. “I swear, I didn’t touch her.”

  Memories of the day Maxine’s teenage son died flashed in Leona’s mind. She hurried to Maxine’s side and dropped to one knee. “Maxine.” She dared to touch Maxine’s shoulder. “Has something happened to Cornelia?”

  Maxine could only manage a slight shake of her head.

  Leona looked to Roxie. “Would you fix her some coffee? Three creamer packets and two Sweet’N Lows.”

  Roxie nodded and ducked into the kitchen.

  “Maxine?” Leona took the quivering hand of the wife of the chairman of Mt. Hope Community Church’s board. “Talk to me.”

  Maxine raised her head. Mascara streaked her face. “It’s Howard.”

  “Has he been hurt?”

  “Not yet.” A new wave of tears surged down Maxine’s cheeks.

  Leona’s brow scrunched in confusion. “Maxine, that doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” she blubbered. “Hurt him as bad as he’s hurt me.”

  “Maxine, I need you to start at the beginning.”

  “Pssst.” Roxie motioned for Leona to join her in the kitchen.

  Leona shook her head, unwilling to leave Maxine.

  “Now,” Roxie mouthed.

  Leona patted Maxine’s knee. “I’ll be right back.”

  Once Leona reached the kitchen, Roxie pulled her aside and whispered, “I think Maxine caught Howard with his hand in the cookie jar, if you know what I mean?”

  “I have no idea what you mean, Roxie.”

  Roxie pulled her even closer. “For some time now, rumors have been circulating through the auto business.”

  “What kind of rumors?”

  “It’s possible that the Cadillac dealer has...traded in his old wife for a newer model.”

  “Howard’s having an affair?” came out louder than Leona intended.

  Roxie put her finger to her lip, her eyes wide. “What else could it be?” she whispered.

  “Lots of things,” Leona defended. “Howard’s chairman of our elder board. He’s one of Mt. Hope’s largest contributors. He’s—”

  “Not a saint.” Roxie cut her off. “No one is, Leona.”

  The church hadn’t dealt with anything this scandalous since Deacon Hornbuckle ran off with his blonde secretary years ago.

  “Who’s he seeing?” Leona asked.

  Roxie shrugged. Her gossip had limits, even if she and Maxine had never been friends.

  For that, Leona loved Roxie even more. “I’ll take it from here.” She grabbed Roxie’s arm and drew her close. “Not a word of this to anyone.”

  “Goes without sayin’.” Roxie slipped out the back door.

  Leona took a deep breath and snatched the paper towels from the holder. She braced for the ugly truth, praying Roxie was wrong. She tiptoed into the living room and perched on the edge of the coffee table. Knee to knee, she s
at opposite the bawling woman. “Maxine.” She waited for Maxine to grab a breath then she lifted her chin. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” She cringed at how strangely reminiscent her opening line sounded just like Saul’s.

  “It’s...your...fault, Leona,” Maxine sobbed, snatching the offered paper towel from Leona’s hand.

  “What’s my fault?” Although Maxine had blamed Leona for everything wrong with the world since the day her son Colt died, it would be helpful if she got specific. “Tell me.”

  “After Howard and I had lunch with you and Roy,” she snuffed. “I got to wondering who’d given Roy all that money. Maybe Howard had done it and didn’t want me to know. Which was so unlike him. The husband I know has always loved getting the credit for anything good. But the past couple of years, he’s become extra secretive and super defensive every time I ask him any questions about our finances. I started to worry that maybe the Cadillac dealership was in trouble.”

  “Financial stress can be hard on a man,” Leona agreed, hoping to keep the conversation moving.

  “So can a prickly wife.” Self-judgment ran deep in Maxine’s eyes. “And I’ve been prickly for far too long.” She blew her nose in a crumpled paper towel. “I did something I’m not proud of, but I did it just the same.”

  “All of us have done things we’re not proud of, Maxine,” Leona confessed.

  “I mean what I did is way worse than wearing gaudy red heels to church, Leona.” Even in her grief, Maxine could still deliver a stinging jab. “I waited until Howard left for work today, then I called one of those computer geeks to come help me break the passcode on his computer.”

  “You hacked Howard’s personal computer?”

  “And his work computer,” she admitted. “My husband has been secretly withdrawing nearly five thousand dollars a month from our joint account. Do you know what he’s been doing with our money?”

  “Charity work?”

  “Men call those kinds of withdrawals charity work when some lucky woman is calling him her sugar daddy.” She noticed Leona’s confused expression. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”