Marcia Talley: Dead Man Dancing

‘Jeesh,’ Paul whispered in my ear, ‘get a hotel room.’

I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow.

By then, even the instructors had stopped what they were doing to watch my sister and her fiancé.

‘I thought you told me Ruth hadn’t danced in years,’ Paul muttered under his breath.

‘She hasn’t,’ I said, but couldn’t believe it either.

While we watched, Hutch eased Ruth into an effortless six-count underarm turn.

And the music ended.

Everyone breathed a collective, ‘Ahhhh.’

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then we burst into applause.

Still holding Ruth’s hand, Hutch made the tiniest of bows.

‘Now, don’t tell me they’re beginners,’ a voice behind me grumbled.

It belonged to the guy half of the black and white-clad, quick-stepping couple.

‘Well, he isn’t, but my sister is,’ I told him. ‘Or at least she’s supposed to be.’

I glared in Ruth’s direction. Clearly, she had been practicing, and I wanted to know what all that bullshit in my kitchen that morning had been about.

‘Tom Wilson,’ the guy said, extending his hand. ‘This is my partner, Laurie Wainwright.’

‘Nice to meet you, Tom. Laurie. You were fabulous out there, by the way.’

‘Thanks,’ said Laurie, adjusting the bright red scarf she wore around her neck. Her voice was low and throaty, sexy, like Lauren Bacall. Or me with a chest cold. ‘We’re practicing for the Sweetheart Ball International Championships in DC in mid-February. We’re dancing intermediate.’

‘That’s gold,’ Tom explained.

‘Gold?’

‘The competitions have several levels,’ he said.

Laurie said, ‘With a partner like that, your sister could go straight from Newcomer to Bronze, don’t you agree, Tom?’

‘God, yes. He’s amazing.’

Alicia and Chance were trying to gather their far-flung sheep back into the fold for what I imagined would be another go at the waltz, when a door at the back of the room flew open, and a woman dressed in a pink tracksuit breezed out – Kay Giannotti.

I caught her eye.

She waved.

I waved.

Kay was carrying her coat, making a beeline for the door, when she stopped so suddenly that her pink-trimmed Nikes squeaked on the hardwood floor, almost as if she’d been shot.

But it wasn’t a bullet that had brought the woman up short, it was Hutch. ‘Hutch? I swear to God, it’s Hutch Hutchinson.’

Hutch dropped Ruth’s hand as if it had suddenly grown hot. He squinted at the woman bearing down on him like a diminutive, but determined tank. ‘Kathleen? Kathleen O’Reilly?

Ruth moved aside as Kay pounced on Hutch, enveloping him in a hug. ‘My god, it’s good to see you!’ Kay purred. ‘What brings you here, to my studio of all places?’

‘ Your studio?’ Hutch shook his head, and then the penny dropped. ‘Kay? The “K” stands for Kathleen?’

Kay tucked a wayward strand of long blonde hair behind her ear. ‘When Jay and I hooked up, it seemed like a good idea. Jay. Kay. The Kay kind of stuck, but my credit cards still say Kathleen.’

‘How many years has it been? Twenty? Twenty-five?’

‘Who the hell’s counting?’ Kay waved a manicured hand, setting enough silver bracelets jangling to make up a Slinky. ‘After we left Ithaca, you promised we’d stay in touch. And you didn’t, you naughty boy.’ Kay had neatly inserted herself between Hutch and Ruth. Hutch was red-faced with embarrassment, and Ruth, red-faced, too, seemed ready to explode. ‘Hutch and I were quite a team. We won the Intercollegiate Dance Spectacular three years in a row, didn’t we?’ She pinched his cheek with easy familiarity, as if she were an elderly aunt and Hutch were a child. ‘Have you kept up with your dancing?’

Before Hutch could answer, Ruth rudely elbowed her fiancé. ‘Are you going to introduce me or not, sweetheart ?’

‘Oh, sorry. Of course. Kathleen, ah, Kay O’Reilly… but it’s Giannotti, now, isn’t it? This is my fiancé, Ruth Gannon.’

Poor Hutch. If he stammered like that in the courtroom, every case he tried would be shot down in flames.

Ruth’s lips were set in a grim line, barely moving as she spoke. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

I could have supplied the subtext, but it would have been expletive ridden.

‘G-gosh, it’s good to see you,’ Hutch stammered on. ‘I had no idea you were here, none at all.’

Kay snapped her fingers. ‘Chance! You work with Ruth for the next couple of sets, will you?’ She beamed at Ruth. ‘You won’t mind if I borrow your fiancé for a few minutes, will you? We have a lot to catch up on.’

Without waiting for an answer, she dragged Hutch away in the direction of her office. As they disappeared through the door, I heard her say, ‘Coffee?’

A few minutes? Hardly. Kay and Hutch didn’t reappear until the session was nearly over and we had pretty much nailed the waltz.

Hutch had the good sense, at least, to apologize to Ruth.

‘Excuse me,’ Ruth practically snarled, turning her back on her fiancé. ‘Will you come with me Hannah? I think I’ve broken a strap.’

But there was nothing wrong with Ruth’s underwear. When we got to the restroom, Ruth backed up against one of the sinks and fixed me with a venomous stare. ‘How could you?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you!’ She dissolved into tears.

‘Ruth, I’m sorry, but how was I to know?’ I held out my hands as if I were weighing items on a balance scale. ‘Kay – Kathleen. Giannotti – O’Reilly. So similar.’

Ruth dismissed my irrefutable logic with a wave of her hand. ‘Did you see the way she had Hutch wrapped around her little finger?’ she sniffed.

I yanked a paper towel out of the dispenser and handed it to her. ‘I think Hutch was just as surprised as we were.’

Ruth dabbed at her cheeks. ‘But he didn’t have to go off with her, did he?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Like a little lap dog.’ To demonstrate, she stuck out her tongue and panted.

I grabbed my sister by the shoulders and gave her a good shake. ‘Ruth, listen to me. I think it’d be a mistake to make a big deal out of this. Hutch and Kay are old friends who haven’t seen each other for more than twenty years. Hutch loves you. End of story.’

Ruth didn’t look convinced.

‘You aren’t still worried about Hutch being younger than you, are you?’

Ruth nodded miserably.

‘For heaven’s sake! When you get to be our age, nine years is nothing. Nothing!’ I nipped off to a stall where I unrolled some toilet tissue and brought it to her. ‘Here. Blow your nose, and let’s get back out on the dance floor.’

Ruth turned and examined her face in the mirror over the sink. ‘I can’t go back out there. I look like hell.’

‘But you dance like an angel.’

Ruth dampened a paper towel with warm water and pressed it against her forehead. Observing her face in the mirror, I thought I caught the barest hint of a smile. ‘Pretty amazing, weren’t we?’

After a moment, she turned back to me. ‘I’m as ready now as I’ll ever be. But, my god, Hannah, when I asked you to recommend a dance instructor, I didn’t expect you to go and ruin my life.’

Back in the studio, life had gone on.

When Ruth and I emerged from the ladies’ room, we discovered Daddy and Neelie sharing a bench on the sidelines taking a break, Paul (will wonders never cease?) waltzing with Laurie, and Hutch leading Alicia expertly (how else?) around the dance floor. Alicia was beaming, clearly enjoying the novelty of partnering a new student who didn’t stumble and lurch around like a drunk.

Under Chance’s supervision, ‘Answer Me, Oh My Love’ was drifting lazily out of the speakers when Hutch caught sight of Ruth and me. He paused in mid-waltz, bowed politely to Alicia, and hurried over. ‘Ruth.’