A Very Merry Match--Includes a Bonus Novella

by Melinda Curtis

  Mary Margaret and Jason finished their job discussion but she lingered.

  “Just by chance…” She gave the men a hopeful smile. “Can I interest any of you in the purchase of a quad?”

  That was a triple no. Not Kevin. Not Noah. Not Jason.

  “Never hurts to ask.” With a self-deprecating smile, she returned to the back booth.

  “I heard a new club opened in Greeley. I need some action,” Jason said, without specifying what kind.

  Me too.

  Kevin downed his whiskey and said, “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “Hey, are you interested in the mayor?” Lola pulled Mary Margaret aside in Shaw’s parking lot as Avery and Darcy continued toward their SUVs.

  The snow clouds had moved on but the air remained cold enough to chill Mary Margaret’s throat. It just wasn’t as chilling as Lola’s question. “I’m not interested in Kevin. Why would you ask?”

  Lola shrugged. “When you were talking to Jason, Kevin was looking at you like…”

  “Like I’m his kid’s teacher?” Which she was.

  “No.”

  Shoot. “Like I’m one of his loyal voting public?” Which she was.

  “No.” Lola grimaced. “It was just a look, all right. And I just got this vibe.”

  “I would never…” Kevin was handsome in a white bread politician kind of way. Or at least, that used to label his look. He had more of an edge to him now that Barbara wasn’t cutting his hair, and yes, Mary Margaret occasionally let her mind wander in that direction when she saw an attractive man but it was never a serious veer from the celibate widow in financial trouble path. She didn’t have on her guy-finding glasses. Besides…“Barbara cuts my hair.” By that fact alone, Mary Margaret was Team Barbara.

  “Exactly.” Lola nodded. “And Barbara doesn’t act like she’s over Kevin. She dogs his every step around town.”

  “I know.” Most everyone knew.

  “You don’t want to cross her.” Lola shivered and hugged herself. “I’m just saying.”

  “I didn’t pick up on signals from Kevin the way you did. I was talking to Jason about the job.” Which seemed to involve labeling vials of collected goods and making sure they didn’t spoil in storage or shipment. It was practically postal work. Right up Mary Margaret’s alley, if not for being mere pennies in the bucket of Derek’s debt.

  Down the block, a few holiday lights outlined the gables of some houses, trying to convey holiday cheer. Mary Margaret wasn’t heartened. She imagined casino thugs waiting outside the glow of twinkle lights, perhaps even in the shadows of her front porch.

  She shivered.

  “Okay. I’m just looking out for you, Mary Margaret.” Lola’s smile turned mischievous. “Besides, if you do date him, I can be your hair stylist.”

  “She really will kill me then.” There was nothing Barbara hated more than losing a client.

  “No doubt.” Lola chuckled. “When Avery switched, Barbara tried to get the town to boycott the movie theater.” Lola gave Mary Margaret a hug; the good kind between two women who’d buried husbands and knew nothing in life was guaranteed.

  Not even next month’s rent.

  Chapter Three

  When Mary Margaret got home, she locked the knob on her front door, slid the dead bolt home, and set the chain. Finally, she felt safe.

  “I was wondering when you’d get home.”

  Mary Margaret jumped half out of her skin, whirling around. Too late, she registered it was her auburn-haired grandmother. “Grandma Edith, how did you get in here?”

  “You gave me a key, remember?” Edith held it up next to her grin. She stood at the kitchen counter, wearing pink snow pants and a pink sweatshirt. Her white snow boots were tucked in the cubby near the front door, which was why Mary Margaret hadn’t seen them.

  Mary Margaret sucked in much-needed air. “You can’t just come into my home without telling me.”

  What if Laurel and Hardy broke in and found her here?

  “Why not? I brought you dinner.” She started the microwave, rising on tiptoe to reach the buttons. “Turkey mixed in with my leftover green bean casserole. And I brought in some of your Christmas boxes from the garage so you can decorate.”

  It was pointless to argue with her grandmother. Edith pretty much did whatever she wanted to, and since she was a well-meaning little dear, Mary Margaret let her.

  Mary Margaret’s rented one-bedroom bungalow was only six hundred square feet. The Christmas boxes were stacked next to the couch because there was no room for them elsewhere. She opened one. It didn’t contain Christmas decorations. The box was full of her burlesque costumes. Red-sequined polyester glittered in the light.

  The lights, the music, the sense that she owned the crowd.

  “How could you?” Dad had demanded, red-faced, drawing back his fist to strike.

  Mary Margaret closed the box, shutting out the painful memories.

  “Turn on some music.” Grandma Edith did a little shoulder shimmy. “Let’s dance.”

  “I don’t think so.” Mary Margaret eyed the box with the costumes.

  “Ah, come on.” Grandma Edith added a grapevine to her shimmy. “Remember how we used to dance? Like no one was watching? You and I have moves.”

  That might have been an overstatement. Grandma Edith had rhythm and enthusiasm, rather than pop and soul. The only reason they’d started dancing together was because Grandma Edith had used her key shortly after Mary Margaret had moved to town. She’d stumbled upon Mary Margaret going through the general motions of a burlesque routine. Instead of being appalled, Grandma Edith had joined in. It’d become their thing. They’d danced while cooking holiday dinners and baking cookies for fundraisers. They’d danced when Grandpa Hamm went hunting or fishing with his pals. They’d danced any time they were happy.

  “I haven’t felt like dancing in a long time,” Mary Margaret admitted, trying not to look at the box of costumes.

  “I know we haven’t danced in over a year.” The microwave finished, and her grandmother halted her simple moves. “But that needs to change. We have that Widows Club ballroom dancing fundraiser coming up.”

  Edith had mentioned Mary Margaret’s dance skill to Mims, who’d recruited her to teach people the waltz and tango in the hour prior to the Christmas Ball’s official beginning. Ballroom didn’t require the all-out joy of burlesque, not for Mary Margaret, but she’d done her duty and agreed to their request.

  “After I teach, I’ll probably be a wallflower at the ball,” Mary Margaret said, skating the edge of self-pity.

  “You and I aren’t wallflowers,” Edith replied with certainty. “And we will dance again someday.”

  They ate in the small dining nook adjacent to the equally small living room. Derek’s seventy-inch television sat on the floor and occupied the entire living room wall. She’d been unable to return it or sell it for anything close to what Derek had paid for it.

  “I’m proud to announce I’m officially on the Widows Club board.” Grandma Edith fidgeted, as if she was bursting with the news. “And as your vice president, I’m sure I’m going to need your help.”

  Uh-oh. “I don’t know if I can spare the time.” Mary Margaret speared a green bean. “I’m trying to land a part-time job.”

  “Oh, honey. You don’t need to save up to buy me anything special for Christmas.” Grandma Edith was a bit self-centered, living life with blinders on like some of Mary Margaret’s kindergartners. She’d probably forgotten all about Derek’s debt. “Although I did see a lovely pair of ruby earrings just like Great Aunt Bunny’s at the thrift store this afternoon. Wouldn’t it be great if we had a matched set?” She sighed dreamily.

  Guilt stabbed at Mary Margaret’s chest.

  “Or you can just regift Bunny’s earrings to me.” Edith grinned. “I don’t think you’ve worn them more than once since Lola found the missing one last spring.”

  If Mary Margaret went back to Ricky, he’d charge her retail
for those clip-on earrings and their ruby chips.

  “You need a Christmas tree in here.” Edith’s gaze roamed over the small space. “And mistletoe. That’d give a man an excuse to steal a smooch.”

  Mary Margaret thought of Kevin and that scruffy stubble. “Smooch” wouldn’t describe that man’s kiss.

  “I miss your grandpa.” Edith sat back in her seat and hugged herself, her smile one of rare melancholy. “Don’t you miss Derek?”

  Mary Margaret turned her gaze toward her wedding picture on the wall, toward joyful smiles and warm embraces. She and Derek had just been starting out their lives together, crazy in love, a clean slate between them and the future. “I miss the man in the picture.” She missed the promises he’d made to her.

  In sickness and in health. For richer or poorer.

  Something inside of her pinched at a memory.

  “You forgive me, don’t you?” Derek had rasped on his deathbed.

  She’d assured him she had, thinking he was asking for absolution for running away with Carina. She’d had no idea what was to come. Nearly a year later, that forgiveness was being tested.

  But at least I forgave him.

  Her parents—a preacher and his wife—hadn’t forgiven Mary Margaret for dancing during college. But it wasn’t as if anyone in her father’s congregation knew about it, unlike Derek’s indiscretion. His trip to Vegas had fueled the town grapevine for weeks.

  “I miss Charlie,” Grandma Edith said. “But sometimes I wonder…” Dramatic sigh. Dramatic pause. Dramatic use of sorrowful eyes.

  Grandma Edith is up to something.

  This was nothing new. Grandma Edith was always up to something.

  “Do you think that I…” Vulnerability lined Grandma Edith’s eyes, along with tentative excitement. “Do you think I should date again?”

  Grandpa Charlie was nearly ten months in the grave, and Derek nearly twelve. Was dating even appropriate yet?

  Mary Margaret set down her fork. “Define ‘date.’” Because with Grandma Edith that could encompass anything from sitting next to a widower at a Widows Club meeting to running off to Reno tomorrow to get married.

  “You know.” Grandma Edith’s mouth worked into a wobbly line. “Go out places. With a man. Sit in front of the fire at home. With a man. Be given flowers and chocolates and taken to nice restaurants for dinner. By a man. Just the other day, Mims told me that eventually the complacent solitude of being a widow will give way to loneliness. Aren’t you lonely?”

  Again, Mary Margaret thought of Kevin and his stubbled, chiseled chin.

  “Mary Margaret?” Grandma Edith was impatient for her answer.

  “No. I’m not lonely.” And that wasn’t the point. Nowhere in her grandmother’s definition had she mentioned love. “If dating fills your day and makes you happy, go right ahead.” Although the dating pool was rather thin for men Edith’s age in Sunshine.

  “There’s a difference between the solitude of being a widow and ready-to-date loneliness, don’t you think?” Again, Grandma Edith’s gaze was the curious mix of vulnerability and excitement. But then she scoffed. “All this talk of my dating.” Edith took Mary Margaret’s hand. “I bet you’re ready to put yourself out there.”

  “No.” Mary Margaret didn’t have to think twice. “Not now. I’m still cleaning up the financial mess from my marriage.” Trying as hard as she could to avoid bankruptcy and broken legs.

  “Derek broke your heart completely.” There were tears in Edith’s eyes.

  “Derek broke something,” Mary Margaret muttered. He’d nearly broken her. She’d loved her husband but now it was hard to remember being in love with him.

  Edith flipped the grumpy switch. “It’d be nice if we two widows tested the dating waters together. I thought going on a double date would be fun.”

  “No.” Mary Margaret repressed a horrified shudder mid-spine.

  But her grandmother wasn’t done. “I thought we could help each other through this holiday. Go the party rounds together. Join the Victorian choir that sings in the town square. Get our nails done at Pretty Toes.” Edith got to her feet. “I guess I’m as alone as I was the day I buried your grandfather.”

  Guilt made another stab at Mary Margaret’s chest. “That’s not fair.”

  Grandma Edith stomped toward the door. “I was going to ask you to go to the poetry slam with me at the retirement home on Tuesday but I guess—”

  “How much is a ticket?” Mary Margaret asked before she could stop herself.

  “Five bucks.” Edith thrust her arms in her jacket. “Pick me up at six-thirty. I’ll pick up the toys to donate at the event and get you some mistletoe. Mims says the best way to move on is to find a new man. And you can’t just open your door and find one waiting on the stoop.” She stepped into her snow boots and then opened the front door. “Who are those men parked in front of your house?” She pointed at Laurel and Hardy in their big sedan. “They look like undercover cops.”

  “Ignore them.” Mary Margaret was going to as soon as she handed over a check with her first payment.

  She closed the door and watched through the peephole as her grandmother walked away. Only when Grandma Edith was out of sight did Mary Margaret go outside and approach the Town Car.

  Mr. Laurel rolled down the passenger window, red stir stick protruding from his mouth like an unlit cigarette. “Was that your granny or your housekeeper?” There was something lilting about his words, a trace of a long-forgotten accent.

  “My grandmother.” She passed over her check.

  “Ha!” Mr. Laurel tossed her payment toward his partner and then punched the man’s shoulder. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

  Mr. Hardy rolled with the punch and scrutinized Mary Margaret’s draft as if it might be a forgery. “How soon can you make another payment?”

  “Maybe next weekend? I’m trying to find part-time work.”

  “Have you tried cleaning houses?” Mr. Laurel seemed sincere in his suggestion.

  “No. I have a job interview Monday with a local breeding outfit.”

  “You should try cleaning houses.” Mr. Laurel wasn’t giving up on his idea. “You can steal things to fence. You have a trusting face and could probably get by saying they must have misplaced something.”

  Mary Margaret choked on cold air.

  Mr. Hardy snorted and started the car. “Make sure the next payment is more substantial.”

  Or what?

  Mary Margaret returned to her house under a heavy drape of fear. Even if she got the job with Jason and Iggy, even if she asked for an advance on her salary from them, she wasn’t going to make more than a thousand dollars in a week. She wasn’t going to satisfy Laurel and Hardy.

  She huddled on the sofa wondering what to do.

  Dancing had kept her on her feet before.

  And estranged her parents.

  She shouldn’t do it but…Could she?

  She was cold, iced over by indecision. But she had to do something.

  Mary Margaret stared at the box of costumes, losing a debate with herself.

  * * *

  “Now, this is more like it,” Jason shouted in Kevin’s ear.

  Kevin preferred the relative quiet of Shaw’s. The two men had gone out looking for action and ended up at a small circular table next to a wall in the recently opened burlesque club in Greeley.

  The pop music was loud. His vodka tonic was watered down, and it didn’t even have ice. The woman on stage wore a neon yellow bikini and struck poses beneath a strobe light. She looked like she should be home studying vocabulary words for her college entrance exams.

  Fighting a headache, Kevin stared into his drink. When Jason had proposed coming here, the cowboy had said he’d been to burlesque clubs in other cities. He’d said the dancing was good, and after the show was over, the audience got to grooving together on a dance floor. Not that Jason and his broken leg were going to be cutting a rug. Not that Kevin planned to dance either. He wasn’t the kin
d of guy who danced in public, preferring to sit on the sidelines and watch.

  The Hanky Panky was the only nightclub of any kind for a hundred miles. It was busy but not packed. In the far corner, a group of women wearing pink “I’m with the bride” T-shirts were served a tray of blended piña coladas. Among the men, there was a mixture of cowboy hats, tractor logo caps, and business haircuts. How many of them were here unbeknownst to their spouses?

  The thought brought him up short. Barbara’s infidelity had left him jaded toward relationships.

  So, no. He wasn’t going to cruise the club looking for female companionship. It looked like the best thing about this spur of the moment trip was that Kevin had gotten out of Sunshine and the watchful eyes of Barb and her beauty shop minions.

  Jason was bobbing his head to the beat and tapping his fingers on the table as if he was into the pose-performer’s strobe dance. But then again, as a rodeo bull rider, he’d probably suffered a concussion or three, and it wouldn’t take much to capture his attention.

  “Let’s give it up for Didi. First times are tough, aren’t they?” The announcer stood just outside the wings of the main stage. “We’ve got another Hanky Panky newbie coming up. We all ‘Wanna Be Starting Something’ with Fox-xy Rox-xy!”

  Foxy Roxy? Kevin groaned. That had to be the worst stripper name ever. Or it would’ve been if this had been the type of establishment where women stripped. The removal of clothes might have made the experience better.

  Kevin downed his drink and nudged Jason’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  The beat of the song shook the walls, and then a woman thrust the red center stage curtains aside and stood there as if waiting for her due.

  Notice me.

  Kevin did. And so did the rest of the crowd.

  There had been attractive women on stage earlier but none of them had owned the audience the way this woman did with just one pose. Which made no sense because she wore a short red dress trimmed with white fur that covered the essentials. Sure, she had on the requisite towering heels, also red, and yes, she had on a black superhero mask that concealed her identity. She didn’t move, unless you counted her gaze, which assessed the audience members one by one.