A Small-Town Reunion

by Terry McLaughlin

  “Amazing, aren’t they?” Dev asked. “Those older couples will probably show the younger crowd a few smooth moves and stay later than anyone else.”

  Addie dropped her gaze to the napkin she was twisting in her lap. “Does everyone dance like that?”

  “I think you have to be together a long time before you can dance like that.”

  “That’s not what I meant. But you’re right—it is amazing.” She placed her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, and then she jerked her hand back into her lap, remembering her manners.

  Dev smiled and made a point of resting both his elbows on the table. He’d been doing little things like that all night, trying to put her at ease. He nodded toward the dancers. “Mel Franchi over there, twirling Stella around—I’ll bet they’ve been dancing with each other for nearly fifty years. And they still look at each other like it’s their first date.”

  “That’s so sweet.”

  “They don’t look a day older than they did the first time I saw them dancing like that,” he said. “And that must have been twenty years ago.”

  “You probably thought everyone looked ancient.” She finished the last of her wine. “I did when I was young.”

  “That would explain it.”

  They sat in silence through another tune, watching as several more couples joined the crowd on the parquet floor.

  “Looks like fun,” Dev said as Mr. Franchi guided his wife through another fancy turn. “Let’s give it a try.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I can.” Addie squeezed the wrinkled napkin she’d laid on the table. “I don’t know how to dance like that.”

  “We don’t have to dance like that.” He stood and held out a hand, waiting for her to take it. “We can make up our own steps.”

  “But I—”

  “Come on, Addie. Just one dance. Just so we can say we gave it a shot.”

  She stared at his hand, wishing for a second that she’d never agreed to come here tonight. At last she slid her palm into his, and he gave her fingers a comforting squeeze as he helped her to her feet. He led her to a darkened corner, far from the band.

  She stopped at the edge of the dance floor and tugged him close. “I really don’t know how to dance like this.”

  He lowered his head, his mouth near her ear. “Trust me?”

  “I’ll have to.”

  “Come on, then.”

  He led her onto the floor, shifted his grip on her hand and placed his other hand low on her back. “We’re just going to take a little walk,” he told her, already moving. “All you have to do is move in time to the music and keep your toes out from under my shoes.”

  He kept it simple, one step after another, guiding her in a slow circle.

  “Oh.” She gave him a delighted smile. “We’re doing it.”

  “Yes, we are.” He grinned back, looking absurdly pleased with them both. “Ready for a trick? Let’s shuffle off to the side.”

  Addie laughed, thrilled with the fact they were moving in sync. She tickled a finger along the back of his neck, and he drew her closer. And a few minutes later, when the music slowed and he rested his forehead against hers, she wondered whether they were as smooth and steady as the older couples surrounding them. It sure felt that way.

  Dev was right. It was amazing.

  “Amazing,” he whispered, in sync with her thoughts.

  ADDIE COULDN’T HELP SMILING at her reflection in the long mirror above the counter in the ladies’ room. Her hair was coiling madly and her lip gloss needed some serious repair, but the giddy delight ping-ponging inside her was on display, giving her a glow no cosmetics could hide. Tonight was making up for the disappointments of her prom experience. And several years of mediocre dinner dates. She hummed to herself as she leaned toward the glass to dab a bit of gloss on her lips.

  “I saw you out on the dance floor, with Dev.” Courtney Whitfield’s reflection appeared beside Addie’s. “He sure has some smooth moves, doesn’t he?”

  Addie managed an acknowledging smile and concentrated on the gloss.

  “I remember him trying some on me, in cotillion. That’s ballroom dance class,” she added for Addie’s benefit.

  “I know what it is.”

  “Looks like you were enjoying the benefit of all those lessons tonight.”

  “Yes.”

  “Better late than never.”

  “Addie Sutton. Is that really you?” Serena Bennett dropped her satin clutch purse on the counter beside Addie’s. “I thought I saw you with Dev, but I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Neither could I.” Courtney smiled and shook her head. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? The heir to the family fortune dallying with the maid’s daughter. Like something out of a novel.”

  “I think it’s romantic.” Serena stared at the mirror, finger-combing her short, highlighted layers.

  “But then I remembered hearing old lady Chandler’s been out of town.” Courtney’s smile sharpened. “When the cat’s away…”

  “Not all of them, at any rate.” Addie dropped her gloss into her purse. “Excuse me, ladies. My date is waiting.”

  Addie’s hands were shaking so badly as she walked out the door that she couldn’t manage the clasp on the fancy little bag. She’d never been able to handle confrontation. She was glad she’d stood up for herself, but saying spiteful things always made her feel small and mean.

  “Damn,” she whispered.

  DEV PACED THE WIDE passageway outside the ladies’ lounge, waiting for Addie to reappear. She slipped through the door, shoulders hunched and chin down, fussing over the catch on her sparkly handbag.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” He gently pried the purse from her grip, frowning when he noticed her trembling fingers. “These things can be complicated.”

  “You have no idea.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry I took so long in there.”

  “The results were worth the wait.” He returned her purse and took her by the arm, guiding her toward the entry. “I have something to tell you.”

  “What is it?”

  He opened the door for her, and they stepped into a cooling summer evening. A layer of fog was moving in from offshore, bringing with it a briny ocean scent. He wondered if Addie might feel chilled in her sleeveless dress, and he slid an arm around her shoulders, drawing her to his side as he handed the valet his card.

  “I took a call on my cell while you were in the lounge,” he said after the valet had left to arrange for the car. “Tess has been trying to reach you. Your mother is in the hospital emergency room. She’s doing fine now,” Dev added immediately when she tensed and turned to face him. “But she’d like you to come as soon as you can.”

  “What happened?” Addie asked as the car arrived. The valet opened her door and stood waiting, but she ignored him. “Is she hurt?”

  “No,” Dev said. “She had some sort of attack.”

  “Her heart?”

  “Tess didn’t think so.” He took her hand and helped her into the car, tipped the valet and jogged to the driver’s side and slid in. “One of your mom’s friends—”

  “Laurie?”

  “Tess didn’t say.” He pulled smoothly out of the lot, heading toward town. “This friend told Tess that one of the tenants in Lena’s apartment building had gone to talk with her about a repair. He thought she was drunk, at first, because her speech was slurred and she seemed dizzy. But then he got worried when he noticed she couldn’t move one of her arms, and he called an ambulance.”

  “Oh, God.”

  Dev grabbed Addie’s hand and gave it a squeeze, wishing he could do more to ease her anxiety. “By the time the ambulance arrived, your mom was fine. Embarrassed by all the fuss. When she couldn’t reach you, she called her friend, and the friend took her to the emergency room.”

  “And when my mom still couldn’t reach me, she called Tess.” Addie’s fingers tightened on her little bag. “My phone wouldn’t fit in this purse, s
o I left it at home.”

  Dev made a turn in the direction of Carnelian Cove General, keeping one eye on the road and another on the gauges. It wouldn’t help matters if he were pulled over for speeding.

  “How long has she been at the hospital? How long was she trying to reach me—did Tess say?”

  “I don’t know. We’re on our way now.” He rolled to a stop at a signal and flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You’ll be there as soon as you possibly can.”

  “I shouldn’t have left my phone at home.”

  “You couldn’t have known you’d need it.” The ragged pain and guilt in her voice was a knife, slicing deep, ripping him up inside. He started through the intersection, shifted into a higher gear and then reached for her hand again. “It’s not your fault your mother is in the hospital. And it’s not your fault you weren’t there with her when she first arrived.”

  Addie’s fingers curled around his, but there was no affection in the tiny embrace. She stared out the passenger-side window, and he sensed her slipping away, retreating behind the barrier her mother had always thrown up between them. He released her hand to adjust the car’s thermostat and warm the space.

  “What else did Tess say?”

  “She made a point of letting me know Lena’s doing fine.” He gave Addie a reassuring smile. “She was feeling perfectly normal before she got to the emergency room. They’re running a few tests. Just standard, routine tests.”

  “I’m sorry for ruining your evening.”

  “Apologizing again?” He downshifted around a corner and started up the long, steep approach to the hospital building. “That’s a nasty habit you’ve got there, Addie.”

  He pulled into one of the spaces reserved for emergency room visitors and switched off the ignition. “And just for the record,” he said, “the evening isn’t over yet. You’ve got several more hours to do something more deserving of an apology.”

  She unbuckled her seat belt and grabbed the handle. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  “You’re welcome.” He exited the car and strode to her side, but she’d already climbed out.

  “You don’t have to walk me in,” she said as he took her by the arm and started down a path marked in diagonal white stripes.

  “Like I said, the evening isn’t over yet.”

  “You don’t have to wait with me.”

  “I know.”

  “I can call a cab to get my mom home.”

  He tightened his grip on her arm. “When I invite a woman out for the evening, I see her to her door.”

  “What if you end up seeing her—and her mother—to her mother’s door?” Addie asked as they arrived at the emergency entrance.

  Dev opened the wide glass door and gestured for her to enter ahead of him. “There’s a first time for everything.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ADDIE’S DRESSY SANDALS clicked on the hospital floor and the chiffon floated around her knees as she followed the emergency department nurse toward her mother’s curtained cubicle. How would she explain her fancy evening wear?

  By telling the truth, of course. Part of the truth, anyway—just the part about tonight’s date. And then she’d hope her mother wouldn’t have a fit.

  Another fit.

  Good thing they were already in the hospital.

  Addie pasted a smile on her face and smoothed an unsteady hand over her stomach as they neared the curtain.

  The nurse pulled the drape to one side and entered first. “Still doing okay?” she asked Lena.

  “As well as can be expected. Addie. Where were you? I—” Lena’s gaze traveled from Addie’s hair to her shoes and back again, her lips thinning in a tight frown. “Where have you been?” she asked as Addie leaned in to kiss her cheek. “I’ve been trying to reach you. Everyone’s been trying to reach you.”

  “I was out on a date.” Addie swept her mother’s hair from her forehead and then let her hand fall to her shoulder. “I didn’t have my phone with me.”

  “Why not?”

  “It wouldn’t fit in my bag.” Addie moved it behind her back. She’d tried to be so stylish this evening, but carrying a shimmery purse wasn’t worth the stress she’d added to Lena’s evening.

  “Excuse me.” The nurse shifted in toward Lena’s side and took her arm. “Let me get your blood pressure while I’m here.”

  Addie moved restlessly to the opposite side of the gurney and back again while the nurse checked her mother’s pulse. Lena looked fine. A bit tired, a bit strained, perhaps, but that was to be expected. Her color was good and she didn’t seem disoriented.

  She seemed ready to give Addie a thorough grilling.

  The nurse left, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Lena pointed to the chair. “Sit down.”

  Addie did as she was told. “What happened?” she asked. “What has the doctor told you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about that right now. I want to know where you’ve been.”

  “I told you.” Addie slid her handbag into an empty space on the cart beside the gurney. “I was out on a date.”

  Lena’s frown deepened. “It must have been some date, considering the way you’re dressed. Where did you get those clothes?”

  “Tess found the dress for me.”

  “It looks like something Tess would choose. And where was this date?”

  “At The Breakers.”

  “The Breakers! How did Mick get into that place?”

  Addie kept her gaze steady on her mother’s. “I wasn’t there with Mick.”

  Lena’s eyes narrowed. “Please don’t tell me you were there with Dev Chandler.”

  “How am I supposed to respond to that?” Addie stood and paced to the foot of the gurney.

  “I warned you about that man.”

  “That was years ago. We were both much younger.”

  “Nothing has changed.”

  “I’ve changed.” Addie pointed a finger at her heart. “And so has he.”

  She moved to her mother’s side. “I like Dev. I like being with him. We’re friends. I was thrilled when he asked me. I was having a wonderful time.”

  Lena turned her face toward the medical equipment dangling over the edges of a basket on the wall. “I’m sorry I spoiled it for you.”

  Filled with mortification and worry and guilt, Addie edged her hip over one side of the gurney and took Lena’s hand. What was she doing? She was in an emergency room, arguing with a woman who might have had some sort of heart attack or stroke. A woman she loved, a woman who had always put her daughter first. “Mom. Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Disapprove of a man who doesn’t seem to care about anything but himself? Worry about my daughter spending time with him? You knew I would.”

  “Mom, please. Calm down. Lower your voice,” Addie whispered. She took her mother’s hand, needing the contact. “You shouldn’t get yourself all worked up.”

  “Oh, now you think of how this news might affect me. Well, that’s convenient. You obviously didn’t consider my feelings before.”

  “Yes,” Addie said, miserable and smothering beneath another layer of guilt. “I did.”

  “And yet that didn’t stop you.” Lena pulled her hand from Addie’s and folded it with the other at her waist. “And what about Mick? What are you going to do when he finds out about this date?”

  “Mick and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

  “Oh, Addie.” Lena closed her eyes and shook her head, moving it from side to side against the pillow. “Since when? No, never mind. You don’t need to answer that. Since Dev Chandler came back to town.”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “What was it like, exactly?”

  How could Addie explain that Mick had never lit her from within the way Dev could with a glance or a smile? How could she explain the miraculous night of lovemaking she and Dev had shared?

  She pinched a fold, and then another, pleating the gray chiffon spread over her knees. The fabric s
eemed dull and lifeless in the harsh glare of the hospital lighting, insubstantial against the industrial-white sheet wrapped around the mattress. She felt alien in this place, in this skin, as though she’d been plucked from one world and identity and dropped into another.

  None of it seemed to matter anymore. As she sat here with her mother, the memories of the past two weeks wavered and faded, losing their power to change her life. She felt herself fading, too, the color leaching from her. Soon she’d be as gray and transparent as the fabric of her dress.

  “I broke up with Mick before Dev asked me to the dance.”

  “Because Dev is back in town, and you thought—you hoped—you could do better.”

  “I told you. Dev and I are friends.”

  “You were never good at telling a lie, Addie.”

  “It’s not a lie. We are friends.”

  “Excuse me?” One of the clerks from the reception counter peeked through an opening in the curtain. “Addie Sutton?”

  “Yes?” Addie stood.

  “The gentleman out in the waiting room sent these things for you.” She handed Addie a soft drink can and two women’s magazines. “He asked me to remind you that he’ll wait to give you a ride home.”

  “Please tell him thank you.” Addie glanced at her mother. “And tell him that he can go now. We’ll find some other way to get ourselves home.”

  DEV LOOSENED HIS TIE and slumped in one of the chrome-and-vinyl chairs in the emergency room waiting area. A seventies’ car-chase scene careened in silent mayhem on the television screen suspended high in one corner. Across the room a toddler banged a dented toy car against the side of a plastic table while his mother browsed through a creased and faded travel magazine.

  The dance floor at The Breakers seemed a world away.

  And his memories of Lena seemed a lifetime ago. He hadn’t been surprised, when he’d caught that glimpse of her at Addie’s shop door, to see that she was still rail-thin, if she still pressed her lips together as though she could prevent one of her rare smiles from leaking too much happiness. He’d always thought that Lena believed joy was a finite commodity.