The next youngest volunteer was twice David’s age, so the boy didn’t have much in common with anyone there. The staff appreciated his efforts and was content to leave him alone and let him work. Haynes kept his distance, feeling both guilty for his part in the mess that had been William Wheeler’s undoing and inept at offering comfort. Best to leave that to his court-appointed mentor, that kind man from Fairview Terraces.
Haynes swung by the shelter late one evening to pick up the financial report the office manager prepared for him. He was surprised to find David still at work, sweeping the walkway in front of the cages. As Frank watched from afar, David bent down in front of a cage and stuck something through the bars, rousing a mid-sized mutt with only one eye that had been dumped in a ditch and left for dead. Irritation flashed through Haynes. What in the world was this kid doing, teasing an animal like that? Was he just like so many other boys his age, getting his kicks out of torturing some poor creature? Maybe he’d even been with the group that abandoned the dog in the first place.
Haynes bolted down the hall to where David was standing, but brought himself up short when the boy turned and looked up with an expression that Haynes recognized—one of pure love and concern for a helpless creature. Haynes swallowed the harsh words on the tip of his tongue, and David turned back to the dog.
“Nice dog,” Haynes uttered lamely. “What’re you doing with him?”
David gestured with his head. “He’s cold. See, he’s shivering. He doesn’t have a blanket, like most of the others. And we’re out of blankets. So I shoved my jacket through the bars for him.”
Haynes nodded. “That’s a nice thing to do. Won’t you need your jacket to get home?”
The boy shrugged. “Naw. I’ll be fine. He needs it more than I do.”
“Would you like to take him out to exercise him?”
“Isn’t it too late for that?” David asked, poorly disguising the hope in his voice.
“I’m going to be here for a while going over the books,” Haynes lied. “You can get him out of his cage. Take your time.”
David unhooked the latch and bent onto one knee, gently coaxing the timid animal to him. Haynes picked up the report and took a seat in the now-deserted lobby.
As the pair passed by on the way to the “get acquainted” room, Haynes asked, “Do you have a dog, David?”
“Nope. Never had one.”
“Well, maybe it’s time we changed that,” Haynes muttered under his breath. That boy and that dog belonged together.
Chapter 31
Frank Haynes now drove by Fairview Terraces every day on the way to his office. He didn’t know why he did it; the place never changed. Maybe he felt an affinity for these elderly folks, just as he did with the stray animals at his Forever Friends shelter. Or maybe he wanted to curry favor with his voters. Whatever the reason, he kept an eye on the place and was surprised to see the large sign posted on the front lawn. He quickly turned into the main entrance and pulled over to read:
New Home of Westbury West Coast Swing Society
Join Us on Sunday Nights for an Evening of Dancing
Lessons at 4 p.m.
Open Dancing 5 p.m.–8 p.m.
All Are Welcome!
Come get your groove on with us! What’re you waitin’ for?
Haynes smiled. Those seniors were going to make money out of this place after all. His efforts to get them their zoning variance hadn’t been wasted.
Haynes started when a man rapped gently on the passenger side window. He swiveled in his seat to see the tall man from the zoning hearing, Glenn Vaughn, bending down to smile at him through the window.
Haynes rolled down his window. “Sorry to startle you,” Glenn said. “I saw you looking at our sign. Wanted to thank you again for your help with our variance.”
“Looks like you’ve got your first tenant,” Haynes observed, gesturing to the sign.
“We do. They’ve booked our Great Hall every Sunday night for the next year. They said it’s perfect for them. Maybe other dance groups will follow suit.”
“That’s terrific, Glenn. You should be very proud of yourself. You’re the one who made this happen.”
Glenn shrugged. “This Sunday will be their first dance. We’re going to offer some special refreshments for the grand opening. We’re trying to get a good turnout. I’m not much of a dancer, but Gloria and I will be there. She says that’s what the lessons are for and I’ll be fine.” He cleared his throat. “We were hoping that you and Mayor Martin and Councilwoman Holmes would stop by. To open it up and say a few words? Make it important?”
Haynes groaned inwardly. He hated this part of being a politician. He loved the power but loathed public appearances. Amiable small talk was not his forte. He forced a smile and replied that he’d check his calendar but thought he was already committed elsewhere.
“We’ve sent email invitations—my daughter says they’re called e-vites—and the mayor is coming.”
Frank Haynes paused. If Mayor Martin were attending, maybe he would go.
“Let me see what I can do. Why don’t you plan on me being there? Now,” he continued, “I need your help with something.”
Glenn turned to Haynes in surprise.
“I’d be glad to,” he answered.
“You’re still working with David Wheeler, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And thank you, again, for giving him that job at Forever Friends. He’s been so much better since he’s been working there. I think it’s the only place where he feels happy.” He added hastily, “Nothing’s wrong there, is it? Is there a problem?”
“No. Nothing of the sort. He’s doing a great job for us. And I think you’re right about it being good for him. That’s what I need help with. I think he should adopt one of the dogs.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“I know that,” Haynes replied. “I’ve watched him with the animals. There’s a special bond between him and one of the dogs. I’d like to give the dog to him, but his mother needs to agree to it.”
“Have you talked to her? Has she said no?”
“It’s awkward for me to call her; she doesn’t want to talk to any of us from the town council. She thinks we’re all to blame for the mess her husband got into. I think she’ll go along with it if you tell her it’s a good idea.”
Glenn gazed into the distance.
“You may be right,” he finally said, turning back to the car. “I’ll see her Saturday morning when I pick David up to go fishing. I’ll talk to her then. Don’t let that dog get adopted by anyone else.”
Haynes reached out and shook Glenn’s hand. “You get her okay, and I’ll have the dog ready and waiting. Why don’t you bring David around on Saturday afternoon when you’re done, and together we’ll send him home with a dog.”
Glenn waved as Frank Haynes pulled away.
***
Glenn and Gloria hurried home from church that Sunday to put the finishing touches on the decorations for the inaugural dance of the Westbury West Coast Swing Society at Fairview Terraces. Crepe paper streamers crisscrossed the entrance to the Great Hall and the new disco ball was in place. Glenn dimmed the lights and flipped a switch, and he and Gloria watched as sparks of light swept the room.
Gloria took his hand. “You’ve done it! This looks fantastic. Everyone around here is more excited than they’ve been in years. I wonder if we’ll have enough refreshments,” she said, nervously glancing toward the boxes of cookies and cupcakes lined up on the food tables.
“You’ve got enough to feed an army, honey,” Glenn reassured. “I hope we pack this place. We need this to be a success. I want to pay back Councilman Haynes.”
“Stop worrying and come out here and dance with me, you old fool,” she replied.
“There’s no music,” he said, hoping she wasn’t serious. Even with music, he couldn’t keep a beat.
“There will be.” She took his hand and led him to the center of the floor. She positioned thei
r arms and leaned close, pressing her lips to his ear. In her still-clear soprano, she softly sang the lyrics from the old classic “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.”
Glenn closed his eyes as they swayed gently and basked in anticipation of the words I’m in love with you. He might have two left feet, but it didn’t matter.
***
John Allen reluctantly pulled himself away from the television to shower, shave, and put on a suit for tonight’s date with Maggie. When she phoned to invite him to the Westbury West Coast Swing Society’s inaugural dance, he had readily accepted because he wanted to be with her any chance he got, but he hadn’t thought this through. He was a horrible dancer. Embarrassing, truly. And some of these oldsters were really good. He’d look even more inept by comparison. Plus the football game he had been watching was a good one. In addition, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to getting all dressed up on a Sunday night. He was feeling thoroughly dyspeptic by the time he rang the bell at Rosemont to pick her up.
His mood changed instantly as she opened the door. She looked glamorous and sexy in a shiny copper-colored halter-neck dress, her mane of chestnut hair caressing her shoulders. She had evidently enjoyed her afternoon of prepping and primping. Her high spirits were infectious.
“Whoa! Don’t you look amazing? You’re going to have to beat the guys away with a stick! Where’s your dance card? I want to sign up for every dance right now.”
Maggie beamed and then twirled. “Why thank you, kind sir,” she said in a mock Southern drawl. “This old thing?”
“Is it new? You look spectacular!”
“It most certainly is. Buying a new dress for a dance is one of the not-to-be-missed joys of a girl’s life.”
John offered his arm. “Madam, may I have the pleasure of escorting you to the dance?”
***
Across town, Frank Haynes struggled into his tuxedo jacket and checked his reflection in the mirror. It still fit his trim frame, and he had to admit he looked good. Maybe going in formalwear was a bit overboard, but he was delivering the opening remarks and he knew that clothes set the right tone. He was dressing to impress. Whether that was for Maggie Martin or his constituents, he wasn’t sure.
***
By three forty-five, a nice-sized crowd had gathered in the hallway outside of the Great Hall at Fairview Terraces. Women were perched in chairs along the walls, changing into their dancing shoes. An expectant buzz hung in the air.
“You see?” Gloria told Glenn. “Lots of people turned out.”
“You’re right. And most of them are from the Westbury West Coast Swing Society. I was afraid we’d have mostly Fairview Terraces folks for this first dance, and then attendance would dwindle. It looks like this facility-rental idea will be a success after all,” he said, sounding pleased with himself.
“Showtime,” Gloria observed as the doors swung open.
The dancers were lining up for their first lesson when Mayor Martin, accompanied by a distinguished-looking man, entered the room and hastily took her place, followed by Councilwoman Tonya Holmes and her husband, George. At six feet and six-six, respectively, the Holmeses towered over the crowd. George shook John’s hand, remarking under his breath that misery loves company. John chuckled in agreement.
A moment later, the crowd began applauding to welcome their instructors. Sam Torres led his wife Joan onto the dance floor with some quick footwork and a fancy spin. Maggie leaned over and caught Tonya’s eye with an arched look. Both women giggled.
“Did you know the Torreses were dancing stars?” Maggie whispered to John as Sam and Joan began their instruction by separating the dancers into female and male groups.
After fifty minutes of instruction, even the most wrong-footed would-be dancer was feeling confident. Sam and Joan exchanged a satisfied glance; everybody had mastered the basics.
“Maybe we’ll even get John and Maggie to join the group,” Joan said in an aside to Sam.
Maggie rejoined John and was about to comment that she hoped Frank Haynes would show up—he was supposed to make the opening remarks to the crowd—when the double doors opened and the very dapper-looking councilman made his entrance.
The hum of conversation slowly stopped as all eyes followed his progress to the center of the room. He stood for a moment and surveyed the crowd. He’s letting them admire him, Maggie thought.
Haynes made his way to the stage and turned to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, members of the Westbury West Coast Swing Society and residents of Fairview Terraces, welcome to this auspicious occasion—the first dance of the society in its new home here in this beautiful Great Hall. As you know, Fairview Terraces recently faced high financial hurdles. With the help of the resourceful residents here—and I want to particularly single out Glenn Vaughn standing right over there—we’ve been able to get over those hurdles. The use of this Great Hall for wonderful activities, like the dance we’re enjoying tonight, is his doing. Let’s show our appreciation, shall we? Put your hands together for Mr. Glenn Vaughn, ladies and gentlemen.”
The crowd clapped enthusiastically and Glenn shrunk back. “If I didn’t have you firmly by the hand,” Gloria noted, “I think you’d hightail it out of here. Just nod and wave and accept the compliment.”
She knows me pretty well for being together such a short time, Glenn thought, moving forward and slipping his hand over hers.
“And now, enough talking. Let me get out of the way and let the dancing begin!” Haynes was stepping off the stage when the newspaper reporter who had covered the Easter carnival at Rosemont caught his arm. She had Maggie in tow, as well. “You both look so nice. Let’s get a photo of you dancing for tomorrow’s paper. I think I’ll be able to get this story on the front page if I’ve got the two of you.”
Haynes shifted uncomfortably. For heaven’s sake, Maggie thought. It’s only one dance and front-page publicity will help Fairview Terraces advertise their new availability for events and parties. She smiled at Haynes and nodded to the dance floor. “Shall we?”
“You look very handsome in your tuxedo, Frank,” she murmured as they proceeded to the center of the floor and the photographer took her position.
To Maggie’s relief, the disc jockey selected an upbeat number; she didn’t want to slow dance with Haynes while John waited on the sidelines. The councilman took her hand and steered her through some basic steps. To her surprise, he was an accomplished dancer and, most importantly, knew how to lead. Maggie was enjoying herself, and Haynes knew it. Having Maggie in his arms stirred feelings that he’d suppressed for years. The photographer circled them, clicking away with her camera. Maggie threw her head back and laughed.
“We’re quite the celebrity couple, aren’t we, Frank?”
Maybe she did feel something for him, he thought.
“That was a very generous speech you gave, Frank. Glenn Vaughn was so flattered. Giving other people their due is a good thing, isn’t it?” she asked innocently.
He didn’t know if she was trying to make a point or not.
The music trailed away. Haynes was about to suggest that Maggie remain right where she was for the next dance when Dr. John Allen appeared at her side so quickly it was obvious he had been waiting for his opportunity.
“Hello, Frank,” John said, extending his hand. “Mind if I steal my date back from you?”
Haynes returned the warm handshake, but his eyes had grown steely. So that’s the way it was? Maggie was with John again? He cocked an eyebrow at Maggie.
“John and I re-met on DogLovers.com. That’d be the perfect site for you to meet someone, Frank.
“You ought to give it a try,” she tossed over her shoulder as John led her onto the dance floor.
I’ve tried it, Haynes thought, as he watched John sweep her into his arms. And the one woman who looked interesting cancelled on me.
The disc jockey started a slow ballad, and Haynes turned abruptly on his heel and wove his way through the sea of dancing couples. Ignoring the
inviting glances of women lining the wall by the door, he strode out of the room.
Chapter 32
Glenn shifted the small velvet box from his jacket to his pants pocket. His grandmother’s emerald, now flanked by two clusters of tiny diamonds, was elegant and dignified. The jeweler in town had done a wonderful job of refurbishing the ring. He chuckled as he remembered the astonished look on the young clerk’s face when he requested a fancy ring box because he was going to propose. Ha! Kids hadn’t cornered the market on love. He felt it more strongly now than ever.
The emerald had lain hidden in his safety deposit box for decades. Nancy had never liked the large square-cut stone—or maybe it was just that Nancy and his grandmother had never gotten along. He fervently hoped Gloria would love the ring. He felt certain she would; the stone complemented her deep green eyes.
He paced up and down the living room, rehearsing his speech. He would propose when he walked her home from the next dance. And did that woman love to dance! She was always happiest during their Sunday night sessions with the Westbury West Coast Swing Society. She praised him constantly, telling him he was catching on fast and soon she’d be battling other women for partner privileges. He was self-aware enough to know that she was being kind. If left to his own devices, he’d have thrown in the towel weeks ago. Still, he was beginning to enjoy himself, and if dancing made her happy, he was willing to go along.
He checked his watch and decided to head over to her place. It’s showtime, he thought wryly. He checked his pocket for the ring for the thousandth time and set off.
***
Gloria was in particularly high spirits that night. Her life had taken on such unexpected richness in the past few months. Finding a wonderful beau at her age had been unthinkable. Now here was Glenn Vaughn, knocking at her door, collecting her to go to a dance. Her heart soared every time she saw him.
Gloria opened the door quickly.
“You’re early,” she said and stopped short. “Are you feeling all right, Glenn?” she asked, peering up at him. “You’re flushed. Are you getting sick? We don’t have to go tonight, you know. Maybe you should go home and go back to bed.”
Weaving the Strands Page 15
