To Fall in Love Again

by David Burnett

  They left town and Drew pushed the speed to seventy. “I like it better than I like Jennifer’s actually. More livable. What do they do with all of that space?” He shook his head and smiled. “They seem to enjoy it, though.”

  “I’ll bet yours would sell for nearly the same amount.”

  “Maybe. The location adds to the value.” He reached out and took Amy’s hand. “Why these questions?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just that you—your life—it all seems to be so different from mine, from what I’m used to. Jennifer spent over a year in Europe. You live where you do. You have more money than—I wonder how well I’ll fit in.”

  “I suppose I’m wealthy,” Drew said. “I don’t really think about it.”

  “That’s what I mean. I can tell you the balance in my checking account to the dollar. I have to know it so I won’t overdraw. You have no idea how much is in yours, do you?”

  Drew smiled and shook his head. “Not exactly.”

  “See the problem?”

  “No. We love each other. I don’t see a problem at all.”

  Did he really say that? Amy could barely see Drew’s face, but his expression had not changed, and he didn’t seem to be expecting a reaction. It seemed to have just slipped out, a statement of fact, something he simply took to be true. She ducked her head so that he could not see the smile that spread across her face. She felt as if she should stand and cheer. Instead, she placed her hand on his arm and tried her best to match his matter-of-fact tone.

  “You’re right, Drew. We love each other.”

  Amy didn’t move her hand as she stared though the windshield at the road. They loved each other. But was it really not a problem? Maybe. Maybe not.

  What had Barb said? Rich men don’t marry poor girls, either.

  The Ball

  Cathy and Heather had just returned from emptying the garbage as Elaine gave the counter one last swipe with a towel. Amy pushed the button to start the dishwasher, and Thanksgiving dinner was officially over.

  She turned to the girls. “Let me show you my dress.”

  “It’s absolutely gorgeous,” Cathy told the others. “Will you model it for us, Mom?”

  The four of them trooped through the den where Rich and James were watching a football game, minding the baby, and keeping Amber and Zach out of trouble.

  The long, black silk dress hung from the shower rod in Amy’s bathroom. “Here it is.” She could hardly contain her excitement. “I picked it up yesterday. I was afraid it would get wrinkled in the closet, so I hung it in here.”

  “Oh. I love it.” Heather hugged Amy. “It’s perfect.”

  “Is it?” Elaine frowned. “For the St. Cecelia Ball? Have any of us ever been to the ball?” She waited a moment. When no one replied, she continued. “You didn’t buy it at Kohl’s did you, Mother?”

  “If it looks nice, what difference would it make?”

  “The ladies you meet will know the difference between a dress from a department store and one from…somewhere else.”

  “I bought it at Berlin’s, Elaine. The sales clerk knows full well what ladies wear to the ball.”

  “Berlin’s? How much did you pay?”

  Amy crossed her arms. “Elaine, what is the matter? You would be unhappy if I had purchased the dress at Kohl’s. You are unhappy that I went to Berlin’s. What would you have had me do?”

  “I would have had you skip this dance.”

  “Elaine.” Cathy and Heather spoke in unison, horrified expressions on their faces.

  “Why would I do that?” Amy stood her ground. “Drew asked me to go with him. Why in the world would I have refused?”

  “The St. Cecelia Ball. The showcase for Charleston’s old money. You’ve never been before. I’ll bet you don’t know anyone who has, other than Drew. And you don’t know anyone, besides him, that will be there. You are out of your league, Mother.”

  “Elaine, you’re jealous.” Cathy’s face was turning red.

  “No. I’m realistic. Having a fling with that man is one thing, but—”

  “A fling? What do you think—”

  “But this is taking it too far.” Elaine looked into her mother’s eyes. “In real life, the prince does not search for Cinderella.”

  “Elaine, be fair.” Heather stepped between Elaine and Amy. “Dr. Nelson is a nice man who has asked your mother to a dance.”

  “And she’s thinking wedding.” Elaine placed her hands on her hips. “You don’t belong to that group, Mother. You won’t fit in. A fish out of water.” She sighed. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Amy began to protest, but Elaine turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Amy staring after her. Her voice, however, could be heard echoing from the front of the house.

  “Zach, Amber, let’s pick up. It’s almost time to go home.”

  Cathy put her arm around her mother. “Pay her no attention, Mom. She’s just jealous.”

  “She’s right,” Heather agreed. “Don’t pay any attention. Your dress is beautiful.”

  “She’s mean.” Cathy stomped toward the door. “I’m going to tell her so.”

  “Cathy, wait. Let her go.” Amy returned the dress to the rod and slumped against the door. “She’s right, isn’t she? I won’t fit in, will I?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Heather exclaimed.

  “Mom, would Dr. Nelson have invited you if he thought there would be a problem?”

  “No, but…”

  “Elaine has never been to the St. Cecelia Ball, either. Dr. Nelson has. Wouldn’t he know better than she if you would fit in?”

  Amy nodded. “Of course he would.”

  “All right. Then there is nothing to be concerned about. Now, will you model your dress? Heather has never seen it, and I want to see it again.”

  ***

  Drew pushed the chains on his cufflinks through the holes in the cuffs of his white formal shirt and twisted the bar at the end to hold them in place. He turned his wrist so that he could see the gold oval disks with his initials engraved on them. They had been a gift from Di the night of their first ball. He had hesitated to wear them tonight, but he had been unable to locate his other pair—the pearl links that his father had given him when he was in high school. He should have thought to look for them earlier, so he would have had time to purchase new ones.

  He sighed.

  Di had cried last year. She had been having difficulty walking and she had refused to use a wheelchair. She’d begged for one dance, not at the ball—she was in no condition to attend—but here, at home.

  She had put on her dress from the year before, and Drew had donned his tuxedo, allowing her to put in the cufflinks as she always had. He’d started one of her favorite songs, and they had managed a few steps of a simple waltz, but even that had left her panting, barely able to breathe.

  He’d lowered her into a chair and then brought her a glass of wine.

  She’d gripped his arm, and he recalled clearly what she had said. “Next year, go to the ball. Do it for me, if not for yourself. And don’t be one of those miserable old men who stand along the wall, spiking their punch, looking sorry for themselves. Take someone, Drew. Dance. Play. Enjoy yourself.”

  He swallowed hard against the memory—it was the first time that they had openly acknowledged she was dying. But, rather than allow himself to give in to sadness, he slipped a disk into the player. As it had the year before, Di’s favorite song poured through the speakers. He imagined that she was again sitting beside the buffet, dressed in her dark blue gown with silver accents around the neck and sleeves, gazing up at him with eyes the color of the summer sky.

  Then, embracing the illusion, he took her hand and helped her to stand, catching a faint whiff of her perfume, one she had worn for as long as he had known her. His eyes closed, he placed his arms around her and began to move about the room. As he had the year before, he danced slowly, careful not to let her fall.

  After a few steps, he ope
ned his eyes and stopped, knowing, were she there, she would not have the strength to continue. From the photograph he had set on the buffet, Di was smiling at him. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”

  “She probably is, but I’m not.”

  He startled and spun around. Jennifer stood at the bottom of the stairs, shining in a long silver dress. As he noticed her, she ran to him throwing her arms around him.

  “I think it’s incredibly sweet.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You look fabulous, Dad. Mom would be pleased.”

  He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head as the clock struck eight.

  She released her hug. It was time to go.

  ***

  “Mom, you look beautiful.” Cathy was sitting in the kitchen with papers spread across the table, placed in piles by topic, and she was moving the piles around as she revised the outline of her thesis. She had completed a voluminous review of other research and she had analyzed some of the data from the project that Drew and Jody had conducted.

  Amy looked down at her black formal and smiled. It had been years since she’d had a reason to really dress up. “Thank you.”

  Her face felt flushed and her hands trembled as she handed Cathy a pair of diamond earrings and a matching necklace. “Can you help me? I’m so nervous, so excited. I can’t deal with my necklace or earrings.”

  “Oh—Grandma’s jewelry. I haven’t seen these in years.”

  “I keep them in the safe deposit box.” She brushed her hair to one side as Cathy fastened the necklace.

  “Let me see, Mom.”

  Amy turned to face her daughter and saw tears glimmering in her eyes.

  “I’ve already said you’re beautiful. You’re…fantastic.”

  Amy hugged her. “Thank you. Do you think Drew will think so?”

  “Dr. Nelson is blind if he doesn’t.”

  Amy walked into the next room to look in a mirror.

  “I’ve never known anyone who attended the St. Cecelia Ball,” Cathy said. “Is Dr. Nelson a member of the society?”

  “Yes, he is. Membership in the St. Cecelia Society passes from father to son, and your family has to have lived in Charleston almost forever. One of Drew’s ancestors arrived in sixteen eighty-two, I think.” She looked at her reflection and smiled, deciding she did not look fifty-five.

  “No one outside of the society knows who the members are. You won’t see my photograph in the Post and Courier tomorrow, either.”

  “Is membership a secret?” Cathy wrinkled her nose.

  “Not from what Drew tells me. It’s not secret. It’s just private. I mean, you can stand outside of the South Carolina Society Hall tonight and see who is attending, but they won’t publish a list or anything.”

  As she adjusted her necklace, Amy’s mind drifted back to the night after Thanksgiving, ten years before. She, Jack, and Cathy had been walking on Meeting Street after a late dinner. They had seen a commotion ahead. Cars arriving, a crowd of people—women in evening gowns and men in tuxedos—mounting the steps to the second floor of a small white building in the middle of the block.

  “What could it be?” Cathy had asked. “It’s too late for a wedding reception and it’s Friday night.”

  They had joined the crowd of onlookers and one of them told Amy that people were arriving for the St. Cecelia Ball. Cathy had jumped up and down in excitement.

  After a few minutes, they moved on toward their car. Cathy had looked back over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to attend a ball? Just like Cinderella.”

  Amy had started to tell her that she might be invited to the ball when she was older, but Jack had snorted.

  “Forget it,” he had said. “There are two groups of people in this world. There are those who have it and those who don’t. In this city, those who have it go to that dance.”

  Amy had not been sure what it was those people had—money, family, connection—but, clearly, Jack considered the Barretts to be in the second group.

  Not tonight though. She recalled Elaine’s comparison of her to Cinderella when they were looking at her dress a couple of days before, but she pushed the memory away. Tonight Cinderella was invited to the ball and she was going to enjoy herself.

  She imagined Drew—her Prince Charming—in a tuxedo. “No, it will not be pink,” he had told her in mock exasperation. “It will be black, as it should be.”

  Jack had worn a tuxedo twice in his life—at least to her knowledge. The first time was at their wedding. The second was for a charity auction. He’d made jokes on both occasions. Bowties, he’d said, made him feel like a caricature, and tuxedos made him look like a penguin.

  A car door closed outside and she moved a curtain to peer out. “Drew is here.”

  “What time will you be home?”

  “I’m not sure. The ball begins at nine. One of Drew’s friends is having breakfast afterward. His friend lives in one of the houses on the Battery, and Drew tells me that there is a ballroom in the house as large as his entire first floor.”

  The doorbell rang and she scurried to answer it. “Don’t look for me before three o’clock.”

  ***

  Drew found a parking space a couple of blocks from the South Carolina Society Hall. The valet could have handled parking, but they planned to walk over to Mary Alyce Butler’s house for breakfast, and neither of them wanted to be hunting for the car in the wee hours after the valet service had departed.

  Meeting Street was packed with men in tuxedos and women in ball gowns, as well as hundreds of others, natives and tourists, who had gathered to gawk.

  Drew held her arm as they mounted the front steps. Looking over her shoulder, Amy thought she saw Barb in the crowd, jumping and waving, but she was not sure.

  She smiled as she recalled their conversation on Wednesday.

  Barb had entered her office, humming “I Could Have Danced All Night.” She’d flounced into a chair, uninvited, of course. “A little bird told me that you are going to need your dancing slippers this weekend.”

  “What little bird would that be, Barb?” Amy had asked, knowing full well Barb had more to add.

  Barb had shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I nailed it though. Dr. Nelson had all of the markings. You’re moving up, girl—but watch your back. Some of those women are vicious.”

  As they arrived at the top of the stairs now, Amy turned to Drew and smiled. If it were Barb in the crowd, Amy was sure to hear about it on Monday.

  They reached the door and Drew’s neighbors, Anna and Edward Thomas, were greeting people as they arrived. Drew had told her that Edward was president of the society this year.

  “Amy, it’s so nice to see you. You look beautiful tonight.” Anna kissed her on the cheek.

  “It’s so good to see you, too.”

  Anna turned to her husband. “Edward, you remember, you met Amy when we were walking on the Battery, the night Rhett slipped out of his leash. She works in IT at Jamison.”

  “Of course. Good to see you again, Ms. Barrett. We are happy you were able to join us tonight.” He smiled and took her hand. “We’re glad that Drew is getting out again,” he added in a low voice.

  As Edward greeted Drew, Amy glanced around the room. “I didn’t think that I would know anyone here except for Drew,” she said to Anna.

  “Of course you know others. Even if there is no one else, most of the reading group will be here.” She looked around. “There is Rebecca Noble, and over there, I see Helen Moultrie. Others will be along. Don’t worry. We’ll introduce you.”

  “Those three will be at breakfast too,” Drew told her as they waked inside. “Would you like some St. Cecelia Punch?”

  “You’re joking. You have your own punch?”

  “Remember, you are in Charleston. You’ll encounter stranger things tonight than the punch. I’ll be right back.”

  As Drew left her and walked toward the buffet, a tall, exceedingly thin woman with jet-black hair approached Amy, holding out her hand.
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br />   “It’s nice to see you, dear. I don’t believe we have met. I’m Sylvia Bounds.”

  Amy took her hand. “Thank you. I’m Amy Barrett. It’s nice to be here.”

  “Of course. To be sure. You’re someone’s guest?” The woman looked around for her escort.

  “I’m here with Dr. Andrew Nelson. He has gone for punch.” Amy was not sure why she felt she needed to explain herself, but she continued. “We are good friends.”

  “Drew is a very nice person, isn’t he? It’s just terrible what happened to his wife. Di and I were very close. Did you know her well?”

  Sylvia made her feel uncomfortable for some reason, so Amy took a step away, looking from side to side, searching for Drew. “No, I met Drew some time after his wife passed away.”

  “It was so sad.” Sylvia shook her head. “You would not believe the women who chased him. It was like terminates pouring from a piece of rotten wood.” She shook her head again. “I suppose it would be expected. Good looking, wealthy, good family.”

  “Yes, he is very nice. If you’ll excuse me…”

  Amy started to turn away, but Sylvia either did not hear what she’d said or she chose to ignore it. “You are from Charleston, Ms. Barrett?”

  “I’ve lived here a number of years.”

  “On the peninsula?”

  “We live in Mount Pleasant.”

  “Oh.” Sylvia smiled condescendingly. “Well, that’s a quaint middle-class area.”

  Amy had never heard middle class sound so unsavory.

  “Are you, by chance, a member of the Mount Pleasant Garden Club? A dear friend of mine, Louise Bell, has been a member for years. Louise and I grew up together. Poor dear. Her husband is a salesman. He travels a great deal.”

  “I don’t exactly have a green thumb.”

  “Oh, Drew’s wife did. She could grow anything. I’ll call Louise and—”

  “Will she be here tonight?”

  “Louise?” Sylvia laughed as if she had heard a joke. “Goodness, no. Louise’s family arrived after the War. Carpetbaggers from Indiana, I think it was. Do you have family, Ms. Barrett?”