Shall We Dance?

by Lynn Patrick

  “I had a good time,” he agreed, giving her a suspicious look.

  “You were wonderful. You never should have given up performing in nightclubs to run the Price Garfield Dance Studios.”

  “Performing was fun, but not something I wanted to do all my life,” he hedged.

  Especially not after the news leaked out that “Kit Worth” was really Kit Garfield, Price’s son. Price’s son. That was exactly why he’d used his mother’s name onstage—so no one would make the connection.

  “Why are you bringing this up again, anyway?” Kit asked, anxious to get to the heart of the matter. “That chapter of my life is dead and buried.”

  “But not too deeply, I hope.” She ignored his questioning look. “I have a real big favor to ask.”

  What could he say to the woman who’d been more like a warm and loving grandmother than a godparent? Childless herself, Lucille rather than his father had spent weeks and months taking care of him when Lana had been away on location shoots.

  “Name it,” Kit said. “Are you willing to accept that loan to fix this place up?” He hoped it was money she wanted. “I can make out a check…”

  She held up a hand to silence him. “It’s not money.”

  Great. Kit tried not to frown, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what she was about to propose. As a matter of fact, he was certain of it.

  “It’s kind of complicated,” she went on. “See, I’m the new owner of a nostalgia club.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. “What did you do—fix up the old stables or garage?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get that kind of a permit from those old fuddy-duddies who run Beverly Hills. We bought a rundown nightclub in Hollywood and renovated it in thirties Art Deco, in honor of the golden age of the Hollywood musical. We’re calling it Cheek to Cheek.”

  “We?” he echoed.

  “Well, I’m part of a core group of investors.”

  How could Lucille afford any kind of investment? Kit wondered. He was certain she used every cent of her now-modest income—and any rent she got from the various retirees she took in—to pay rising taxes and living expenses. She probably hadn’t paid Elsie wages for years.

  “An old friend’s backing me,” she explained. “It’s a real chance for me to get back on my feet. The club’s classy, Kit. We’re having a week-long gala opening to start the place out.” She took a deep breath. “And now we get back to that favor.”

  “Uh-huh.” Figuring she was going to ask him to get involved somehow, he tapped his long fingers on the worn arm of the chair.

  “I want you to dance for me.”

  The fingers froze and his brows raised. “You want me to what?” This was even worse than he’d expected.

  “Dance. You know—move your feet around,” she joked, sounding a bit uncomfortable. “Only for a few weeks,” she went on quickly. “That wouldn’t be impossible, would it? I’ve never asked a favor like this before.”

  Maybe not, but she sure was twisting his arm now. But why? “Why me?”

  “I need a name act that will draw a big audience.” She made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the room. “Opening night will be a big, splashy benefit to make this old place into a show business retirement home. And every month a percentage of the club’s profits will be set aside to help run it.”

  Kit was still focusing on the name business. He had a sinking feeling Lucille didn’t want Kit Worth to appear. “I wouldn’t be a big draw and I don’t have an act,” he stalled.

  “But you could put one together pretty fast. I’ve already talked to Anita Brooks, and her daughter is an experienced professional. Just think what people will pay to see Brooks and Garfield dance again.”

  “Anita Brooks?” He couldn’t believe it. Clutching the arm of the chair, he leaned forward. “You’re being outrageous!”

  “Outrageous?” Lucille grinned crookedly and adjusted the neckline of her caftan. “Thanks, kiddo. I’m amazed I dreamed up such a great idea myself.”

  “You know I would do anything for you—”

  “Great, then it’s settled!” Avoiding his gaze, she muttered, “Where is that coffee, anyway?” She grabbed the bell and rang it again. “Elsie!”

  Kit knew she was trying to bluff, but he couldn’t let her get away with it. “As I was saying, you know I would do anything for you…but you can’t expect this.”

  Lucille gave him her full attention once again. Her lips were curved in a brave, too-bright smile. “Why not? It’ll be weeks before the club opens. You’ll have time to get yourself back into shape and to rehearse.”

  “I know I can still dance—I’m not concerned about that.” He leaned back in the chair and loosened his tie. He had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to let him go so easily.

  “Then the idea of a partner must be making you nervous,” Lucille said, gazing at him steadily. “Don’t worry—Gabrielle has appeared on Broadway.”

  “I’m not worried about my supposed partner, either.” Though he had little use for anyone who was related to the overly ambitious hoofer who’d probably ruined his father’s life, not to mention his mother’s or his own. He decided to spit it out. “There’s no way I’m going to get on a dance floor and perform as some imitation Price Garfield.”

  Lucille didn’t blink an eye. “Ah, come on. You’ve gotta have more faith in your own talent. You’ve already developed your own personal style. No one would confuse you with your father. Thanks to Lana, you’re better-looking than Price—”

  “I don’t want to be compared to Price Garfield at all,” he broke in. He’d never wanted to compete against his father. Besides, who could stand up to a legend?

  “I guess it can be tough to be a famous star’s kid,” Lucille said, “but I thought you had enough moxie to rise above that.”

  Did she think she could get him to agree by baiting him? “I don’t want to do it,” he told her firmly.

  “But will you agree, anyway?” she wheedled. “Just think about all those aging show business people who are starving on social security and have nowhere to live.”

  “Only because they haven’t run into you yet.”

  At last count there were at least six boarders living in Lucille’s house, including an arthritic stuntman and a comedian who hadn’t learned a new joke in years.

  “I can’t take care of these people by myself forever. I’m getting pretty old myself. If Cheek to Cheek is successful, I’ll be able to set up this place as a nonprofit institution while making a nice income on the side for myself. I’m fronting the club.”

  Knowing that Lucille needed the money and that her pride would keep her from taking what she thought of as a handout, Kit felt his determination waver. “You’ll make an income for sure?”

  “I’ll be salaried, which would really help me out a lot.” She gazed at him soulfully. “Please, Kit.”

  He sighed. He was thirty-eight, a highly successful corporate executive. How could this frail old woman reduce him to feeling like a kid eager to please?

  “Just this one favor.” Her lower lip actually quivered.

  Kit groaned. He supposed it was time he quit worrying about competing with his old man.

  “Please do it for me.”

  That wistful note got to him, right smack in the heart. Knowing when he was defeated, he muttered, “All right, all right, I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you!” She rose to hug him. “You won’t regret this, kiddo. You’re going to knock ’em dead.”

  He tried to grin. Was it possible after so many years of being out of the spotlight? His godmother had more confidence than he.

  “We oughta make a toast or something,” Lucille went on, drawing back to beam at him. “How about some champagne? I think there’s an old bottle around here somewhere.”

  He got up from the chair, sliding a supportive arm around her fragile shoulders. “Actually, I’m still waiting for that coffee.”

  “Oh, right.” Lucille
looked around. “Where on earth is Elsie? Drat that silly old twit. She must’ve forgotten to put on her hearing aid again…or maybe she fell asleep. Come on. Let’s go out to the kitchen and help ourselves.”

  Lucille enthused about his coming performance all the way down the shadowy halls of the mansion. Kit asked about the nostalgia club and the way it was going to be run. He also questioned her about his new dance partner, though Lucille claimed to know little more than her age, marital status and the titles of some of the productions she’d danced in.

  A chorus girl rather than a star, Anita’s daughter hadn’t been that successful, Kit realized. Was she as ambitious as her mother? Did she expect a career boost from teaming up with him? Not if he could help it. That kind of stuff wouldn’t wash with him. He wasn’t as gullible as his father had been.

  Furthermore, Gabrielle Brooks Lacroix had better know her stuff, or she was going to be one unhappy hoofer.

  “HE AGREED TO DO IT.”

  “Good.” Price Garfield relaxed his tense grip on the telephone receiver. He’d had faith in Lucille.

  “I’m not doing this just for the money, you know,” Lucille assured him.

  “Of course not, but you’re going to need some more up-front money to buy new duds that’ll impress the customers. They’ve got to believe you’re the owner.” Price alone made up the remainder of the supposed investment group. “Buy whatever you need and charge everything to the club.” Then he anxiously asked, “You ordered those airline tickets, didn’t you?”

  “Anita and her daughter should be receiving them any day. Everything’s cooking. You’re going to get another chance.”

  “I hope so.” He’d been dreaming about seeing Anita again for more than a year, ever since he’d heard she’d been widowed. That desire had added impetus to his and Lucille’s scheme.

  “You hope so? Better be more positive. Surely you’ve learned something after half a century.” A longtime friend who’d become his closest confidante over the past few years, Lucille was the only person who had the nerve to talk to him like that.

  “I’ve learned a lot.” About loneliness, estrangement, his own stupidity and pride. “But Anita will have something to say about things, too.”

  “You mean you still doubt she loves you? The feelings you two had for each other aren’t the type that evaporate overnight, you old fool.”

  But then Lucille was an incurable romantic who slept with her late husband’s photo under her pillow. Price knew that she believed when she died, Jim Dix would return for her, galloping over the heavenly horizon on a big white horse to carry her away.

  “Get in there and do your stuff!” Lucille ordered. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

  “Thanks.” Considering his age, this would be his last chance with Anita.

  “You also might think about having a heart-to-heart with your boy one of these days.”

  “Kit? Why? We get along.” At least now that the younger Garfield had reached adulthood and had ostensibly recovered from his resentment over the divorce.

  “Yeah, maybe, but your relationship sucks,” Lucille said in the no-nonsense way Price had come to respect over the years. “You shoulda been the one who asked him to perform, not me.”

  He sighed. “True.” Though he didn’t know how to span the distance between himself and his son.

  “He’s the only kid you’ve got.”

  He’d once dreamed of having more. But maybe he would have been just as inept at parenting several as he had been with one. “I’ll be seeing more of him as we work on the show.”

  “Going to give him some tips on choreography? Uh-oh. I’d be careful about that. He’s very proud.”

  A trait father and son shared. Price just hoped that Kit wouldn’t let his pride get out of hand. “And you be careful that you don’t let him know where the money’s coming from, okay?”

  “My lips are sealed. Anita won’t know a thing, either.”

  Anita. After finishing the telephone conversation with Lucille, Price thought about the woman he’d lost so long ago. Would Anita be able to forgive him, or would she still be angry? Had he any hope of rekindling their love?

  Restless, he paced around the house for a while, then decided to take a drive. By himself. He told the chauffeur he wouldn’t be needing his services that night. And since the early autumn air was warm, he lowered the top of the Mercedes convertible after he backed it out of the garage. Then he sped along the roads that wound through the hills above L.A., letting the breeze blow through what was left of his hair, almost able to imagine he was young again, strong and in complete control.

  What an illusion. There was no way he could forget a life spent making every mistake in the book when it came to love and marriage. Not that there hadn’t always been good reasons for each of his four divorces—lack of communication, ego conflicts, career conflicts. And not that there hadn’t seemed to be good reasons for each marriage in the first place. He’d thrown himself into every relationship with passion and commitment and the hope that it would work out.

  None of them had, not even the last. Devoting himself to his fifth and, he determined, his final wife, he’d been stunned when Rachel had been diagnosed with cancer. He’d nursed her through a long illness only to lose her. Perhaps, having walked away from the first and greatest love of his life, he’d doomed himself.

  If only he could lift the curse.

  On Mulholland Drive he pulled off onto an overlook with a stunning view. Struck by the vast, sequined panoply of lights spread out in the valley below, he realized the sight at this particular spot was familiar. It should be; he’d once vowed never to forget….

  Hollywood, 1953

  “WE’RE ON TOP of the world!” Anita cried, rising from the seat of the parked convertible to get a better view of the city. Holding on to the windshield, she demanded, “Isn’t it grand?”

  “Fantastic,” he agreed, knowing she was referring to the gala premiere they’d attended that evening as much as the sight of Los Angeles. Their newest film was going to be a big success.

  “We’ve done it, Price. We’re stars.” And she looked the part—exquisite and glamorous in a fur stole and strapless gown. “We’re famous.”

  He fingered the steering wheel. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  She gazed down at him curiously. “How come you’re not more enthusiastic? That crowd tonight loved us.”

  “They love the characters we play.”

  “But there’s a part of you in every one of your characters.”

  “A small part.” He wasn’t half as clever and carefree as the roles he played. “I just wish people would allow the rest of me some privacy. I’m getting tired of signing autographs and being hounded to dance with every woman I meet.”

  That’s why he disliked the big parties and public outings they were expected to attend. But Anita seemed to thrive on them, responding warmly to everyone.

  “I can’t sit and finish a meal or even talk to anyone for more than five minutes,” he complained.

  “Aw, poor Price.”

  She laughed, the sound high and clear in the empty darkness of the night. Theirs was the only automobile in sight. At least he’d managed to get her alone for a while.

  “Why wouldn’t women want to dance with you?” Anita asked, sliding back down to stroke his arm. “You’re a honey of a leading man. Those women think that if they’re in your arms, you’ll make them feel as beautiful and romantic as the movies they watch. They’re all in love with you.”

  Price had to smile. “I still find that hard to believe.”

  “Why? I fall in love with you, too…every time we dance.”

  “Only when we dance?”

  He turned toward her and grasped one of her gloved hands, feeling the warmth of the vibrant flesh through the material. Hadn’t she realized by now that she was the one who put cupid’s wings to his heels?

  She drew a deep breath and gazed at him steadily. “If you’re asking me for a declaration,
you’ll have to make one first.”

  His heart beat faster. “I love you, Anita.” Something he’d known for a long time. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “I love you even more than words can say.”

  Shuddering when he lowered his mouth to kiss her, she responded passionately, winding her arms around his neck. She tasted of lip rouge and champagne and smelled of roses. They were crushing the corsage she wore, but Price didn’t care. The world itself could have stopped turning that very moment and he wouldn’t have known the difference.

  “So tell me.” He drew back slightly to stare into her eyes.

  “You already know.”

  “Say it.” So the words would echo down through the eternity he wanted to spend with her.

  She actually seemed shy when she murmured, “I love you, okay?”

  “It’s more than okay.” And far more thrilling than any movie career or applauding crowd. “We belong together, Anita.”

  “Together,” she whispered, kissing him again.

  He closed his eyes but not before he’d promised himself to memorize every nuance of their surroundings—the stars above, the dark hills, the blazing lights in the valley. He would store the memory and keep it forever in his heart….

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE LARGE BUILDING housing Cheek to Cheek was faced in white stucco and trimmed in gray-painted wood. According to Lucille, neon signs identifying the nightclub would go up in a couple of days. Having just arrived for her first planning meeting with Kit Garfield, Gabby gave the place a cursory inspection as she and Anita alighted from a taxi. Her nerves frazzled from the time they’d spent in the hotel lobby waiting for the vehicle, Gabby paid the driver what she thought was an exorbitant fare and glanced at her watch.

  “I’m a half hour late. I wish you had told me we might have a problem getting a taxi,” she complained.

  “It’s been more than fifty years since I’ve lived in California,” Anita said as they hurried inside and mounted the steps leading up to the nightclub’s main floor. “How would I know?”

  “And everything is miles and miles apart. We’re going to have to rent a car.”