Skater's Waltz

by Peggy Jaeger

  They stood in the wings, the audience just beginning to take their seats.

  “I still don’t know if I like this,” Cole said from behind her. “There’s so much that could go wrong.”

  She turned around to him. “What, for instance?”

  He stared down at her face, heavily made up now for the show, but still beautiful even with all the artificial adornment. He scraped his hands through his hair, and blew out a breath. “I don’t know. They’ll get the idea we’re on to them and do something stupid. Anything can happen.”

  Tiffany laid a hand across his cheek. “Nothing’s going to happen. Wilson has his plainclothes officers staked out at every entrance and exit. We’ll go ahead with the show as planned, Cole. It’s the right thing to do.”

  He would have given his right arm to keep her from going out on the ice. But he knew her too well, loved her too much. He knew what this show meant to her, what every performance meant to her as a professional and as an artist. He had no choice but to support her decision.

  He only hoped it was the correct one.

  For the first time Cole realized he’d never had a choice as far as Tiffany was concerned. He’d do whatever she asked, help her any way he could, just as he’d done since she was a child.

  His heart melted when he stared into her face. There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he felt compelled to explain. Want sliced through him; desire flowed like hot candle wax melting through his veins, concern and worry following it.

  “Fifteen minutes to curtain,” one of the stagehands called. The skaters milled about, retouching costumes and doing last minute makeup checks. The first number was a company one, a farmyard scene. All of the skaters were dressed in gingham and denim. Tiffany was wearing a braided wig and a dress similar to Dorothy Gayle’s in The Wizard of Oz. The skates she wore for the number were the new ones Sean had ordered and kept hidden in his office.

  “Good luck, Tiffany,” Bryan Timms said, planting a chaste kiss on her cheek.

  She smiled and told him the same.

  “Did you hear who’s here?” Jane said. “The governor, the mayor, and both their families. This is really exciting, and I’m scared stiff!”

  “You surprise me, Jane.” Tiffany adjusted her skate. “You’ve performed in front of royalty. There’s nothing to be scared about.”

  “I know, but I am.”

  “What I am is nervous,” Marina Pavlov said, peering out at the audience from behind the curtain. “This is my first professional show. I hope it goes good.”

  “It will,” Sean told her. “And so will you. Just remember your timing.”

  Ruby red lips pulled back into what almost looked like a smile. “My timing is, as you say, perfection. No problems. I am, after all, Olympic medal winner.”

  “Aye, Marina, you are. But so are others in the show.”

  “Some even two-time winners,” Cole said, smiling with pride as he looked at Tiffany.

  Marina’s mouth hardened. “Da. This is truth.” She threw Tiffany a dark look. “Much luck.”

  Tiffany nodded. “You too. The very best of luck.”

  The statuesque Ukrainian stalked away, stopped, and checked her makeup in the mounted wall mirror.

  “She still hates me so much for beating her out of the gold,” Tiffany said while she smoothed a hand down her costume.

  Cole heard the slight hitch in her voice, then saw her lift her head and shrug as she put it from her mind.

  “Come on. Let’s get this show on the road. You’d better get to your seat,” she told him.

  Cole glanced at Sean. “I’m staying back here, Tiff. I want to be close.”

  Tiffany looked up at him, and he couldn’t read what was in her eyes.

  Suddenly, she said, “Oh, what the hell.” She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss hot enough to melt the ice around them.

  Instinct made him circle her waist with his hands and drag her closer into the kiss. Deeper. When she pulled back, her lips trembled. Cole took a few jagged, mind-cleansing breaths before speaking. “For someone who usually doesn’t like public displays of affection, that was a pretty good one.”

  She threw her arms around his neck again and held on fast. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered.

  “Not as much as I’m going to miss you, Tiff.” He held her at arm’s length. “We need to talk before I leave. We haven’t had a second to ourselves, and I need to say some things to you, tell you what I, well, just something important before I leave.”

  “Five minutes. Places!”

  She stared up at him. “I’ve got to get to the other side.” She pulled away from him.

  “Tiffany.”

  Her eyes tore through him. He grabbed her hand, placed a kiss to the palm. There was so much he wanted to tell her. So much she needed to hear. But she had a show to do, so he said, “Good luck,” and kissed her hand one last time.

  She smiled and sprinted to the other side of the rink, behind the curtain.

  The houselights dimmed, the buzz of the expectant crowd hushed.

  She stood on her marker for the opening number and lowered her head. Cole knew she was saying a quick prayer everything with the show and her performance would go well. It was a habit she’d had since her first junior competition.

  When the strings of the music began, she clapped her hands once, and the magic began.

  ****

  “It’s going well,” Cole told Sean as Tiffany spun through a difficult series of moves during the opening number of the second act. “Nothing’s happened yet.”

  “Aye. And waiting for it to is damn near killing me.”

  Cole turned and found Detective Wilson standing behind them, studying the rink and the skaters. His face divulged nothing. It was as bland and blank as a piece of unlined paper. He’d been standing there since the second act began. He’d quietly consulted with Sean during the intermission about when the Queen of the Night and Run to You numbers would be.

  “Third and fifth sequences in,” the director told him.

  The first act had gone remarkably well, with none of the skaters wobbling or falling, and every number had been precise. The applause at the act’s finale had been thunderous. Cole escorted Tiffany back to her dressing room where she’d greedily drank an entire bottle of water and then changed for the next number, never stopping her verbal critique of the show so far for one second. Cole knew enough of her moods to recognize the nerves running through her. And knowing her as he did, he let her go full speed. She needed to get it all out, go over and over it again. He could tell she was just as anxious as he was for the upcoming Whitney Houston numbers and what would—or wouldn’t—happen during them.

  When she’d changed, he’d kissed her as if he’d never kissed her before. All the love, all the passion he couldn’t give a voice to seeped out of him into the kiss, and he felt Tiffany absorb every bit of it.

  “Okay, lass, this is it.” Sean helped her shrug off one costume to reveal the alluring, seductive one underneath it. “I checked the timing mechanism m’self a few minutes ago. Everything is fine.”

  Tiffany secured the cape around her neck, took the elaborate headdress from Betty and put it on. “Okay. I trust you, Sean. I know all’s well.”

  He smiled for the first time all evening. With a swift kiss to her cheek, he left her to check with the lighting crew.

  “I still hate this costume,” Cole said, eyeing it with derision.

  Tiffany slanted him a look. “Bet if we were alone you wouldn’t say that.”

  His lips twitched. “I won’t take any of your bet, Brat. Seriously”—he took her hand and squeezed—“Sean checked everything out. No worries.”

  “I know. He just told me. Relax, Cole. Nothing’s going to happen.”

  Jane stopped next to them. “Ready for this big number?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” Tiffany replied. “You’d better get in place.”

  “Yeah. Break a l
eg, kiddo,” she said, pulling her skate guards off and getting in line in front of all the other skaters dressed exactly alike.

  “A ridiculous thing to say to an ice skater,” she mumbled.

  Cole agreed. After one last quick buss to her cheek, he let her get into position. While she stood at the top of the ramp, hidden from the audience, the music started.

  On cue, the spotlights came to rest on her solitary figure at the top of the ramp. With her foot counting the beat, she toe-picked behind her and went speeding down the ramp. She held the cape wide above her, her arms outstretched, the material billowing at her descent, reaching behind her as if on fire. Just as she reached the bottom and moved onto the ice, the cannon boomed and a hail of white light silhouetted her lithe frame from behind.

  The explosion pulled a collective gasp from the audience and, in the next second, they were on their feet as a whole, cheering Tiffany on.

  She moved from one side of the ice to the other. The spotlight followed her every movement as she shot up, spun to the speed of light, landed, and then did it again and again.

  Cole stood, amazed as always, and watched her every movement. How she knew where the ice was when she came out of a jump dumbfounded and astonished him to this day.

  The ice could have been empty, save for her. The other skaters were mere props she danced around.

  Every movement was clear perfection. The entire arena felt as if it were shaking, swaying as a unit to the rhythm of the music and Whitney Houston’s voice.

  Tiffany’s command of the ice was extraordinary, and there wasn’t one eye in the entire place that wasn’t glued to her form.

  By the end of the piece the crowd was still on its feet.

  Exuberant, Sean grabbed the closest person to him, who happened to be Cole, and kissed him full on the lips. “My God! She’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” he shouted over the noise of the audience, who were now demanding Tiffany take a bow, something quite unusual when there were still three numbers left.

  Tiffany skated off the ice, only to be pushed back onto it by Sean.

  “You deserve it, lass. Take it!”

  Cheeks blazing, Tiffany sprinted to center ice, where a single spotlight lit her. The cheers were deafening. She bowed twice, waved, and then skated backwards to the curtain to be engulfed in Sean’s arms.

  “Okay, okay.” Her laugh was gleeful. “I’ll admit it turned out well. But I’ve got to get changed for the next number.”

  He let her go. Betty followed her down the corridor to help her out of one costume and into the next.

  “Six minutes,” Wilson told Cole.

  “What?”

  “It’s how much time she has before she goes on again. Just six minutes. Can she get ready by then?”

  Cole smiled and pushed his hands into his pockets. “You’ve obviously never seen this girl in action before. She only needs three.”

  True to his word, Tiffany came back to the curtain with two minutes to spare. Bryan was waiting for her.

  “Ready?” He reached for her hand.

  Tiffany smiled up at him and gave the proffered hand a squeeze. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

  When the music came on, they glided out to the ice.

  “Not that I’m questioning you or anything,” Cole said to Sean, “but she does have the correct skates on, right?”

  Sean nodded. “Had Betty bring ’em at the end of the Queen of the Night number. She looked at me kinda funny when I told her what to do, but she did it. Those are the doubles on Tiff’s feet. Wilson’s got the others. Evidence.”

  Cole let go of the breath he’d been holding. There was always the possibility of a slipup, of something going wrong, of someone forgetting something important. Luckily, that hadn’t happened.

  Jane came up alongside them, dressed in her finale number.

  “Is it almost over?”

  Cole glanced down at her. “Almost.”

  “Watch now,” Sean whispered, his eyes never leaving the duo. “Bryan’s setting her up for the throw.”

  “I hate this move,” Cole said. “I always have. I’m terrified she’s gonna fall on her butt, or worse, pop her leg.”

  “Not the great Tiffany Lennox. She never fall in front of audience. This is why she get gold and I do not.”

  Both men turned to see Marina standing beside them. Cole’s eyes shifted across the skater’s face, searching for something. When he didn’t find it, his gaze traveled back to the ice.

  “Here she goes,” Sean whispered. “Spin…spin…spin…release!”

  Tiffany flew up and out of Bryan’s arms across yards of ice at a dangerous speed to land perfectly on one foot, the other leg extended out behind, her arms outstretched, a smile a mile wide across her face.

  The audience was once again on its feet. She skated back to Bryan to finish the routine. The look of shock that had waved over him was quickly replaced by a shaky smile as he pulled her into his arms and the two of them spun around, ending in a hug just as the music faded.

  Tiffany stepped away from him to take her bow. Her hand still in his, she curtsied to the audience, as Bryan bowed from the waist. Together, holding hands, they skated off into the wings.

  The moment they were out of sight of the audience Tiffany yanked her hand from his.

  “Tiffany.” A nervous smile twitched at Bryan’s mouth. “That was the best we’ve ever done.”

  “Surprised, aren’t you?” She glared at him, hands on her hips, her lips in a baleful twist.

  Cole and Sean moved in closer to the duo, Wilson behind them.

  “What do you mean, surprised?”

  “You should have seen the look on your face when I didn’t fall after the throw. That’s what you were expecting me to do, right? Fall? Just like I did in rehearsal.”

  “What are you talking about? I never expected you to fall.”

  “You’re pathetic,” she said.

  “What is she talking about?” Bryan asked Sean.

  “She’s talking about the way you skillfully managed to tamper with her skate for this number,” Sean said, his voice hard and cutting.

  “I what? You’re insane.”

  He started to back away, but Cole’s hand shot to his back and stopped him cold.

  “Not insane, Bryan,” Tiffany said. “Smart. Much smarter than you and this miserable excuse for a cohort you have,” she pointed to Jane. “Still don’t like being second best, do you?”

  The older skater’s blue eyes narrowed to slits. “You little bitch! I don’t have to take that.”

  “I’m afraid you do, young Lady,” Wilson said. “I’m currently in possession of a disc starring the two of you in Miss Lennox’s dressing room just hours ago. You, Mr. Timms, were fiddling with one of the skates, and you, Miss Walters, were trying on Miss Lennox’s costumes.”

  “No wonder they felt so loose tonight.” Tiffany shot her chin up into the air in a royal lift.

  Cole could have kissed her senseless right then and there.

  “Why you…” Jane made a fist, pulled it high, and was caught in the killer grip of Marina Pavlov’s hand.

  “Not very professional,” the Ukrainian said. She bent the arm backwards and earned a squeal of pain from Jane.

  The detective motioned to a few of his plain-clothes officers who had been guarding the exits. “You two have the right to remain silent. Anything you say…”

  Tiffany ignored the rest of the Mirandizing.

  Sean pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, as Cole watched. “It’s over, lass. You did well.”

  Tiffany pulled away. “Not yet, it’s not. I still have one more number to do and if I’m not mistaken, that’s my cue.”

  The show had continued on while they’d been involved with Bryan and Jane.

  Tiffany and the rest of the cast danced onto the ice, and ended the show with a flourish.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “So the cops arrested them?” Seamus Cleary asked a half hour later
in Tiffany’s dressing room.

  “Yes, they did,” she replied, bouncing Alastair on her knee and being rewarded by his giggling laugh. “They’d been together since nationals. Jane hated being my understudy. She’s been furious since I was named the lead skater for the US Olympic team. She wanted to be the lead, then and now, but well, it’s my show. Since she and Bryan were an item, she enlisted his help to try and get me cut.”

  “I just can’t believe this entire incident was going on while the show was underway,” Alaina said. “How were you able to perform so well with all this on your mind, dear?”

  “Mother,” Serena said with laugh. “What a question. She’s half MacQuire.”

  “Aye, and the other half’s forged iron,” Sean murmured.

  Laughter erupted through the crowded room while Tiffany squinted at her coach. “You can be replaced, you know. It’s not too late.”

  Next to him, Cole nervously checked his watch. Her heart flipped when she realized he only had a few more minutes before he had to leave. She wanted to clear the room of everyone but the two of them, but she couldn’t. Her family had come so far to support her, and they only wanted to revel in her success.

  “Who’s up for ice cream?” Seamus asked.

  A deafening cheer went up from the children.

  “Great, dear,” Serena said. “Get them all sugared up for the long drive home.”

  He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Dad’s prerogative.” He stood and gathered his niece into his arms. “Great show, Tiff. As always, you’re the best.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Seamus.”

  “Ditto for me, monster,” Serena said. She kissed her cheek, and relieved her niece of the youngest Cleary.

  “I could use a sundae,” Alaina told them. She took Sean’s arm after she kissed her granddaughter. “I’ve had a hankering for some chocolate fudge all day.”

  “Grandma,” Moira cried. “How can you eat that stuff and stay so skinny?”

  “Good genes, my dear. You have them too.”

  “Want us to wait while you change?” Carly asked.

  “Please. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Cole,” Mike said, embracing his nephew. “We’ll see you when you get back.”