WOMEN OF SURPRISE 03: Making Over Maggie

by Tracey J. Lyons

  "Well, I disagree with you. I think there are those who would like to learn the latest dances and not have to look foolish while doing it."

  His raised his eyebrows suddenly. "You don't know how to dance"

  It wasn't a question, but a statement and he made it sound as if she had the plague. Lying had never come easy to her, so, shrugging her shoulders, Maggie decided to ignore the comment. Taking the dreaded book off the corner of the bar, she secreted it away in her pocket. Then she wandered over to the stage area, picturing in her mind how it would look a week from now.

  The candles would all be lit casting a warm glow over the entire room. The three-piece orchestra would be set up off to the right and a few small tables would fill the floor in front around them. She could envision the dancers on the stage spinning and waltzing for the audience.

  It was going to be so elegant. And no one-not her aunt and certainly not Samuel Clay-was going to spoil this for her. Maggie turned to look at the man and found him standing in front of the stage with his feet spread apart and his arms folded across his chest.

  Tipping his head to one side, he looked at her curiously.

  "What?" she spat the word out.

  "A dance hall hostess who doesn't know how to dance, how interesting."

  Sucking in her lower lip, Maggie fumed. Sliding her hand into her skirt pocket, she did her best to hide the pages of the manual. She planned on practicing later when he was gone.

  Taking a step toward her, he said, "I can teach you"

  "I don't think that would be a good idea." She backed away from him.

  "Why not?"

  "We barely like each other, Mr. Clay. I don't see the two of us as dance partners"

  He put his hand over his heart and she knew he was about to tell her how her words had wounded him. Before he could say it, she raised her hand, stopping him from speaking.

  "Please don't tell me again how much I wound you."

  Lowering his hand, he smiled at her. Not a puton, made-up smile like that kind he enjoyed using to charm her, but a genuine smile that start ed beneath his moustache at the corners of his mouth and reached all the way up to his bluegreen eyes.

  She felt her reserve slipping. She planned on using the manual for her pretend partner, but having a flesh and blood male one would be better. Her fingers released the pages of the book.

  "You have to promise me that no one else will know about this."

  "I can do that" Taking off his jacket, he draped it over a chair in the corner.

  "There is one other favor I must ask of you, Mr. Clay."

  "And what might that be?"

  "I want you to be yourself. No sarcastic remarks or false smiles."

  Maggie was tired of constantly being required to have her guard up around him. It was exhausting trying to keep up with his quickwitted remarks and she wanted to be able to concentrate on the steps he was going to teach her.

  His face became serious and Maggie waited for the retort sure to follow. "I will try to behave myself. And you, Miss Maggie, will try to have some fun!"

  "Fun!" she had barely squeaked the word out when he took her in his arms.

  The book fell from her pocket onto the floor. Bending over, Samuel picked up the dog-eared copy of Mr. Boxer's Dancing Tutorial. Raising one eyebrow he looked at her. His mouth opened and then snapped shut. Very carefully he placed it on the edge of the stage.

  "We won't be needing this."

  Returning to her side he placed one hand lightly on her waist and took her other hand in his. "We'll start with a basic waltz. It's very simple, just follow my steps, one-two-three."

  Blinking up at him, she could see his pulse beating at the side of his neck. Taking a deep breath she caught the scent of his masculinity and her stomach did the strangest flip-flop.

  Maggie whispered, "The manual instructions specifically say that the man and woman should be a ruler's length apart. I think we're too close, Mr. Clay"

  Pulling away from him, she concentrated on putting the proper amount of space between them. She thought that when their arms were stretched out and when their hands were barely touching was good enough.

  Laughter spilled from his lips. "Miss Maggie, the book said a ruler's length, not a yardstick." With a gentle tug he managed to pull her back into his arms. "Now, come on, we're going to waltz. Just make a box with your steps."

  Coaxing her, Samuel swept them around the space in front of the stage. The first steps were awkward and surely painful for him. She stepped on the poor man's toes four times. Frustrated, she pulled them to a stop.

  "This isn't going to work. I simply have two left feet!"

  Quirking an eyebrow at her, he said, "Maggie Monroe, are you giving up?"

  She shook her head.

  "The first problem is that you're as stiff as a board"

  "I am not," she defended herself.

  "Yes, you are. Now take a deep breath and relax. Then I want you to stop concentrating on the steps and do what feels natural."

  Slowly they started moving and this time he hummed a simple waltz tune. It was much easier when there was music accompanying the steps. Maggie felt herself relaxing. She even managed a smile.

  "Where did you learn how to dance?"

  "My mother taught me. We didn't have much entertainment around, so we had to invent our own fun. During the summer when the evening air was warm enough to be outside on the porch, my father would play his violin while my mother taught me simple dance steps."

  Subtly he broadened their steps, moving them into the middle of the room.

  "That's a very nice memory," she said wistfully.

  "How come you never learned how to dance before this?"

  Shrugging, she replied, "I don't know. I suppose it didn't really interest me all that much"

  He slowed their pace. "And now?"

  He was looking down at her and she got lost in the serious expression on his face. It was rare when he showed his true self. There was something reflected in his gaze that she couldn't quite put a name to. He was looking at her like a man would look at a woman he found attractive. But in her heart she knew it couldn't be so; they barely even liked each other, did they?

  It was a few minutes before Maggie realized they'd stopped moving. He'd rearranged his position, letting his hands rest on her waistline.

  "Now, I find dancing very intriguing."

  "Good. At our next lesson I'll introduce you to a reel"

  Stepping away from him, Maggie watched him walk over to the chair where he'd left his coat. Whatever warmth she'd experience just moments before was gone.

  He appeared to be lost in thought. And Maggie was surprised to find that her arms felt empty. Her thoughts were spinning around in her head all topsy-turvy. In just a short span of time she'd felt her disposition toward him softening a bit. She watched him turn to face her and realized with a start he was wearing the same cocky, devil-may-care smile he always wore.

  She stared at him from across the room, amazed at how quickly he'd transformed into his old self. He acted like a man full of selfconfidence and with a purpose to life. Frankly, Maggie thought as she did before the lesson that he was just full of himself. And if she had a type of man, one she might find attractive, she tried hard to tell herself Samuel Clay wouldn't be the one at all.

  And yet there was something about him.

  He moved away from the window so suddenly that Maggie took a step backward.

  "I have some business to take care of. Oh, and don't forget to take care of the painting." Abruptly he left the building, leaving Maggie standing there with her mouth open wondering what he was up to.

  Not about to let him leave so easily she fol lowed him to the doorway. "Wait, when is our next lesson going to be?"

  Looking over his shoulder at her, he said with a wink, "When I get back."

  The next morning Maggie awoke to a brilliant Catskill Mountain day filled with sunshine and the sweet scent of honeysuckle. Before going to bed the night
before, she'd made a list of all the things to be done today.

  Right at the top she had written "paint the stage" Still fuming about the color, Maggie threw back the coverlet and climbed out of bed. She was going to show Mr. Clay who was boss. Pulling a simple brown dress over her head, she worked nimble fingers buttoning up the front.

  Opening the bedroom door, Maggie's senses were teased with the scent of Anna's famous blue berry scones. Her mouth watering in anticipation, Maggie went downstairs to the breakfast room.

  Entering the room she found Aunt Margaret seated on one side of the oval table. "Good morning, Aunt Margaret! What a pleasant surprise this is."

  "Good morning, Maggie. I woke up this morning feeling quite chipper so I decided to come down for breakfast"

  Pulling out one of the chintz-covered chairs, Maggie sat. "I'm glad you did. It will give us a chance to catch up"

  Sipping from her teacup, Aunt Margaret peered at her over the rim. "So tell me, how are you and Mr. Clay getting along?"

  Swallowing the first bite of scone, Maggie said, "As well as can be expected" Thinking about yesterday's lessons she thought they were getting along better than she expected.

  Still, the man had little nuances that annoyed her. "He's quite set in his ways. Did you know this when you hired him?"

  A wisp of graying hair fell across her cheek as she shook her head. "I knew he had a great deal of experience in running an enterprise such as this one"

  "That's all well and good, but what do you really know about this man? Do you know where he comes from? Does he have any family to speak of? Where did he live before coming to Surprise?" The questions that had been building up inside of her for days now came out in short bursts.

  "Maggie, slow down. I can barely keep up." Leaning back in her chair, Aunt Margaret frowned thoughtfully.

  The clock on the mantle chimed eight times. There was a great deal to be done today and if Maggie had any hopes of getting the painting done before Mr. Clay came back from wherever he'd wandered off to, she had to leave the house soon. But not before she got some answers from her aunt.

  "Aunt Margaret? Do you know anything at all about him other than the fact that he can run a dance hall?"

  "I know what my instincts tell me."

  Rolling her eyes heavenward, Maggie suppressed the urge to yell. She dearly loved this woman, but there were times, like right this minute, when she was so exasperating Maggie didn't know what to do with her.

  Laying her napkin alongside the breakfast plate, Maggie pushed away from the table. "Let's hope your instincts aren't wrong."

  As she was leaving the room Maggie could have sworn that she heard her aunt say, "They never are."

  Going down the slate walkway in front of the house, Maggie spotted Mrs. Bartholomew hanging bed linens out on a clothesline stretching from one corner of her house to a tree behind it. The freshly laundered sheets snapped and fluttered in the warm morning breeze.

  After waiting for a wagon loaded with lumber to rattle by her, Maggie walked over to the boarding house with a single purpose in mindto find out exactly where Mr. Clay was.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Bartholomew."

  "Morning, Maggie. How is Margaret faring?"

  Brushing at the front of her dress where a bee had landed, Maggie replied, "She's doing quite well. I think the worst of her health crisis has passed"

  Bending over, the owner of the boarding house plucked another sheet from the wicker basket. Shaking it free of the damp wrinkles, she gathered a handful of clothespins and hung it on the line.

  For the briefest of moments Maggie found herself wondering if those sheets were the ones Mr. Clay slept on. Giving a quick shake of her head, she brought herself back to the reason she was here.

  "Do you have a full house now?"

  "As a matter of fact, with Mr. Clay here, all of my rooms are taken" Smiling broadly at her, the woman added, "Isn't it wonderful the way the town is prospering?"

  Maggie only nodded in reply while the woman chattered on.

  "I daresay I'm going to have to hire some extra help if this keeps up. I can barely make it through a day with just one helper as it is."

  "I'm glad things are going well for you, Mrs. Bartholomew." Running her hands over the tips of a small patch of daisies growing alongside the house, she inquired as innocently as possible, "Is Mr. Clay back from his trip yet?"

  "I don't believe he will be back until day after tomorrow."

  Maggie raised her eyebrows in surprise. She didn't know he'd be gone so long. But better for her that he was. There were things to be tended to and it would be best if he weren't around interfering.

  "Well, I must be going. Have a good day"

  "You too, dear."

  As Maggie made her way to the hall, she had time to think about what she was going to do with the hideous paint. The matter of the color still rankled her, causing her not one, but two sleepless nights. Maybe the color choice didn't seem important to Mr. Clay, but to Maggie it mattered a great deal.

  When the dance hall of Surprise opened next week she didn't want one thing to be out of place. The building from the rooftop right down to the foundation had to be perfect. Pausing outside the doorway she looked up at the front of the building. Tapping her finger lightly against her lower lip she considered the problem of the paint.

  She hit upon the idea just as the sunlight poured through the gap in the tree line striking the white clapboards. Rushing across the street she found Alexander inside the mill.

  "Hello, Alexander."

  Nodding, he said, "Good day to you, Maggie. What can I do for you?"

  It never ceased to amaze her how he was always all business and she wondered, as she had so many times before, what her cousin Lydia found so exciting about the man.

  Be that as it may, she had a lot to accomplish before the egotistical Samuel Clay came back. "Alexander, I could use your help. I need to get some painting done and I'd really like to have it finished before Mr. Clay comes back. I was won dering if you might have a worker or two you could spare for the day"

  "I just hired on two of Walter Smith's sons. I can send them over right now."

  "That would be wonderful. Thank you, Alexander."

  Feeling her day brighten immensely, she hummed a little ditty as she crossed the street with the two boys trailing after her. With paintbrushes in their hands, they seemed eager to get to work.

  Bringing them to a halt in front of the building, she turned and smiled. "Here is what I want you to paint." Quickly she explained the plan to them, instructed them on where they could find the buckets of paint, and went inside.

  At noontime she poked her head out the door to offer the young men some lunch and tall glasses of lemonade. After eating and drinking their fill they went back to work. By the time the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky they were finished with the painting job.

  Stepping out in the street a bit, Maggie couldn't hide her grimace of distaste. It was perfect. She could hardly wait for Mr. Clay to come back to see his reaction to her creative use of the ugly green paint.

  By the time Sam arrived back in Surprise it was nearing midnight. Letting himself into the boarding house by way of the back door, he crept up the stairs to his room. Divesting himself of his dust-laden clothing, he lay facedown on the featherbed and fell sound asleep.

  Bright sunlight poured through the window waking him with a jolt. For a moment he couldn't remember where he was, but quickly realized he was back in Surprise. He lay there for a few minutes listening to the sounds of morning, remembering the way it felt to have Maggie dancing in his arms. Sam had been shaken by his reaction to her.

  His sole intention had been to teach her the simplest of waltz steps, not on developing any kind of attraction to her. He'd been glad for the reprieve of taking care of business away from this town. It had given him some much needed time to get his thoughts about the woman straight.

  The creak of a wagon wheel as it rolled along the gravelly st
reet, the gleeful laughter of children as they romped in backyards, a bird twittering just outside his window, and the clanging of pots from the kitchen downstairs, all signaled to Sam that the town was awakening.

  Groaning, he rolled onto his back. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Sam reluctantly got up to start the day. A vision of a certain blond-haired, blue-eyed young woman flitted through his mind. He wondered how Miss Maggie had spent her time while he was gone.

  Smiling just a little, Sam proceeded with his morning ritual of shaving, dressing, and lastly applying a liberal dose of pomade to his hair. Smoothing the last of his thick locks in place, he wiped his hands on a towel. After adjusting his vest, he left the room.

  Descending the stairs he was greeted by the smells of crisp bacon, eggs, and toasted bread.

  "Morning, Mrs. Bartholomew."

  Turning from the stove, where she'd been busy scrambling the eggs in a hot, cast-iron pan, she looked at him in surprise.

  "Why, Mr. Clay, I didn't hear you come in."

  "Didn't mean to startle you, ma'am. I got back late last night and let myself in the back door."

  "I thought I heard that top stair creak a bit last night. Thought it was my tabby cat"

  "Nope, it was just me"

  "Sit," she ordered. "I'm just finishing up these eggs."

  Pulling a chair out from the end of the long planked table that filled the center of the room, Sam sat. "So, anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

  Her back to him, she answered, "Not that I'm aware of. Miss Maggie stopped by wondering when you were coming back."

  Sam's eyebrows rose in speculation of why Maggie had done such a thing.

  "I think she missed you."

  Chuckling at the thought, Sam accepted the plate of bacon and eggs that Mrs. Bartholomew held out to him. "Now that I seriously doubt."