Shall We Dance?

by Lynn Patrick

  Anita took a deep, shaky breath. Kit was Price’s true flesh and blood, after all. Her eyes filled, and she rummaged for a tissue in her purse, then blew her nose quietly. What a crazy, sentimental old fool she was. She could almost imagine she was watching Price himself.

  “Anita?”

  And now she was even imagining Price’s voice.

  Soft footfalls in the hallway finally made her realize someone was behind her. She turned.

  “Anita?”

  She stared.

  Price—or a thin, aging manifestation of the man she’d always loved—was standing several feet from her, his expression intense, his eyes flickering with a multitude of emotions. She’d expected to see him…but not now…not like this. She wasn’t prepared!

  Her mouth dropped open and she backed against a crate. She placed a hand over her heart, which she feared was going to stop. “Go away! I can’t stand it….”

  His eyes widened and his expression closed as he backed away and disappeared, wraith-like, into the shadows.

  Anita stood stock-still a few seconds longer, then slowly slumped to the crate.

  “Ahh…” she moaned loudly.

  Her heart began palpitating, and she heard the sound of running footsteps before deliberately closing her eyes.

  “I STILL THINK we should call a doctor,” Gabby said, continuing to worry about her mother even after they’d returned to their hotel room. She bent over the bed where she’d forced Anita to lie down and placed a cool washcloth across the older woman’s forehead. “You could be seriously ill.”

  “I don’t need a doctor. I’m not sick.” Anita tried to rise, but Gabby pushed her back. “Come now, I didn’t faint. I just closed my eyes for a moment while I caught my breath.”

  Caught her breath, indeed! Kit would have taken them to a hospital if Anita hadn’t adamantly refused to go.

  “But what in the world happened?” Gabby demanded to know. “Your pulse was racing. This could be indicative of something more serious, Mom. Maybe it’s your heart.”

  Anita laughed softly. “It’s my heart, all right.” At Gabby’s alarmed expression she hastened to explain. “Don’t worry. My health’s fine. My emotions are all mixed up. I came face-to-face with Price while you and Kit were dancing.”

  “Price?” Gabby hadn’t seen anyone else around.

  “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Kit…I mean, the man is his father….”

  Her imagination running wild, Gabby asked, “What did Price say to you?”

  Anita patted her hand reassuringly. “Nothing, sweetheart, honest. He just spoke my name and backed away…and then I had some trouble breathing, that’s all. Isn’t it ridiculous? I never thought I’d become some wilting lily the first time I encountered him.” She laughed again.

  But Gabby wasn’t amused. “I was afraid something like this would happen. We’re going back to New York.”

  “Going back? Why?”

  “We’ve barely been here twenty-four hours, yet you’ve already run into Price Garfield and he’s upset you. You can’t take this kind of strain.” When it came to her mother’s health, Gabby was ready to put everything else second—even a second chance at a career.

  “Oh, bosh.” Sitting up, Anita threw aside the washcloth and assumed a steely-eyed expression. “We are not going back to New York. I was merely shocked when I saw Price today. This won’t happen again.”

  Hands on her hips, Gabby loomed threateningly over the bed. “And what will happen when you see him again? How will you feel when you’re constantly being reminded of your old movies, your dances? That’s what this trip is all about.”

  “I’m not going to have heart failure, which seems to be what you’re worried about,” Anita said irritably. “I’m made of sterner stuff. I want to get up.”

  Sighing, recognizing the stubborn tone, Gabby stepped back while her mother got to her feet. If the older woman looked even the slightest bit peaked throughout the coming evening, she was going to call the airlines…if not an ambulance.

  Anita ran her fingers through her mussed hair and picked up the purse she’d thrown aside. “So what’s Kit like?” she asked, obviously wanting to change the subject. “He’s an excellent dancer. He moves like his father.”

  “Kit’s very good,” Gabby agreed. Thinking of the tension between them, she chose not to mention the tiff concerning their parents. “I can’t tell you much about his personality, though. We’re trying to keep things impersonal.”

  “Perhaps he’s always a bit aloof with people he doesn’t know,” Anita murmured speculatively. “And then when he gets involved with something or someone he cares about, he can be emotionally intense….”

  “Possibly.” Gabby had the feeling her mother was thinking of the elder Garfield. “All I care about is that Kit is talented and willing to work out a dance routine.”

  “He appears capable of that, doesn’t he?”

  “So far so good.”

  Gabby took off her dress and slipped into a kimono. Rather than jumping into the shower immediately, she lay down on her own bed. She wanted to watch her mother closely for any symptoms of weakness.

  “Kit’s very organized,” Gabby went on. “He’s already making out charts and diagrams for dance routines before we’ve even practiced them.”

  “Hmm. Perfectionistic enough to make diagrams? Sounds like he inherited more than talent from Price.”

  Gabby wasn’t particularly thrilled with the news. Recalling an anecdote her mother used to tell about rehearsals, she decided she’d walk right out if Kit Garfield ever made her dance so long and hard that her feet bled.

  The telephone rang, interrupting her thoughts.

  “I’ll get it,” Anita told her daughter, reaching for the receiver. “Hello?” Her face lit up with a big smile. “Lucille! You’re downstairs? Wonderful. Come right up. Gabby is anxious to meet you.”

  “Oh, boy, and I’m not ready.”

  Gabby rushed into the bathroom and straight to the shower. She was just drying off when she heard her mother open the room door. Anita and Lucille shared a tearful reunion while Gabby ran a comb through her wet hair. Leaving the bathroom, she smiled as she approached the silver-haired, elderly lady next to her mother.

  “Well, well, well.” Lucille looked Gabby over with discerning dark eyes and reached out to give her a big hug. “You’re gorgeous, toots. Such long legs. But maybe I’ve shrunk a coupla more inches today.”

  “I can’t believe you’re still putting yourself down,” Anita said.

  Lucille chuckled. “Hey, it’s part of my comedy routine…which I’ll be doing for the club, you know, when I act as MC.”

  Anita beamed. “I think it’s all wonderful.”

  “It’s gonna be a trip, as the young people say.” Lucille paused. “Oops, I mean as the young used to say in…when was it? The sixties? I’ve seen a few generations come and go in my time.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “But speaking of coming and going, I have another proposition for you,” Lucille went on. “How about if I take you both out to dinner and then to my house? Instead of bunking in this hotel, how about staying with me?”

  “Oh, we couldn’t,” Anita objected.

  “We shouldn’t,” Gabby agreed.

  “Of course you should. I’ve got a big place in Beverly Hills with ten times more ambience than this joint. And you can have your own suite.” Obviously assuming Anita might have reservations, Lucille attempted to stem her next objection. “Price won’t be hanging around,” she assured her. “We’re friends, but he doesn’t drop by unless I invite him. Now tell me you’ll agree—we’ve got years of gossip to catch up on.”

  “Well…” Anita wavered and exchanged a glance with Gabby that said she wasn’t going to mention the chance encounter with Price that afternoon.

  “And I want to get to know this one better, too,” Lucille continued, grinning at Gabby. “You and your brother and sisters were supposed to be my godchildre
n. And what happened? Your mother moved outta state.”

  Gabby smiled. Lucille was as warm and charming as Anita had always claimed. “I never had a godmother.”

  “You can have one now.” Lucille slapped her on the back as if sealing an agreement. “And so we’re all going to my house, right? Soon as we get some grub.”

  Gabby gazed at Anita, who shrugged and said, “Why not? I’m sure it will be homier.”

  That settled it. Gabby dressed while her mother packed their things. Having heard stories about Lucille through the years, she was certain the stay at the elderly lady’s home was going to be interesting. Lucille and Anita were still chattering away when Gabby put the finishing touches to her makeup.

  She picked up a light jacket and her purse. “Ready?”

  “Sure.” Lucille grinned. “I’ve got a limo downstairs waiting for us. If you want, after dinner, I can have the driver take us around and show you a few sights.”

  “That would be nice,” Gabby agreed. The guidebook she’d read said they weren’t far from some famous landmarks. “If it’s not too much trouble,” she added hurriedly.

  “Hey, I’d go to any length of trouble for a new godchild.”

  “Do you have others?” Gabby asked.

  “Just one. With no kids of my own, I kinda enjoyed having Kit to make over once in a while.”

  Kit Garfield. Of course. Gabby only hoped agreeing to stay at Lucille’s wasn’t going to mean closer contact with her new dance partner. The scant inches between them on the dance floor was going to be plenty close enough.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AFTER A TOUR OF THE TOWN that left them completely exhausted, Gabby and Anita decided to delay the move to Lucille’s until the following afternoon, when the comic actress provided colorful commentary to more impromptu sight-seeing. Passing Pantages, which Lucille insisted was one of the most splendid Art Deco theaters in the world, Gabby was reminded of Kit and their act. She was anxious to start working on the choreography, but, tied up by an important meeting, he wouldn’t be able to get away from the Garfield Corporation until the next day.

  “Everything looks so different from New York,” Gabby said as the limousine headed west on Sunset Boulevard. “Almost as if L.A. were a foreign country.”

  Lucille chuckled. “It’s foreign, all right. The old stars of the golden age of Hollywood made this part of Southern California into a regular magical kingdom—and I’m not talking about Disneyland. Course now the tinsel’s a little tarnished here and there.”

  “And everything’s so much more crowded than I remember it,” Anita said, her expression mildly distressed as she gazed out at the traffic.

  “But still fascinating,” Gabby hastened to add.

  She knew her mother had fond memories of her birthplace—one of the reasons Anita had been anxious to return. Having often wondered why her mother had never so much as vacationed in California after moving to New York, she was now sure it had to do with Anita’s fear of running into Price Garfield.

  The driver turned the limo north and, on a whim of Lucille’s, swept up and down the side streets of Beverly Hills. Lucille pointed out houses that had once belonged to famous stars, like the one built by Charlie Chaplin.

  “People called his estate Break-away House,” Lucille told her. “To save money on construction that old cheapskate Charlie had his studio carpenters do the work. Ornamental trim was always falling off walls. At one party a doorknob came off in my hand.”

  Gabby laughed, but when they pulled up to Lucille’s deteriorating mansion, she wasn’t so sure the place would be in much better condition. Her mother had warned her the elderly actress had been in financial straits for years. Indeed, what must have been one of the finest estates in Beverly Hills in the twenties looked as if it had been sadly neglected for at least a decade. It would take a small fortune to restore the mansion and grounds to their former glory. Still, Gabby couldn’t help but be fascinated by the sheer size and the architecture of Lucille’s mansion.

  “Your home certainly has atmosphere.”

  “Yeah, that’s one thing we’re loaded with, toots. My dear departed Jim dubbed his estate the Silver Stallion after his favorite horse.” Chuckling, she added, “Now it’s nothing but a white elephant. But we’re gonna change that soon when the club is a big hit…which it will be with you and Kit headlining the entertainment.”

  Feeling a mantle of responsibility settle over her shoulders, Gabby nevertheless tried to tell herself that Cheek to Cheek would succeed or fail on all of its merits, not solely on whether or not she and Kit made a successful team. Surely Lucille’s hopes couldn’t be pinned on them. Her mother’s old friend had never even seen them dance together.

  With the help of the driver the women unloaded the luggage from the trunk. Inside, an elderly black woman met them in the foyer. Gabby assumed she was a boarder until Lucille introduced Elsie as the mansion’s maid and her lifelong companion.

  “I’ll show you folks to your suite.” Elsie slid one bag over a plump shoulder and started to pick up another.

  Gabby immediately took the larger suitcase from her hand. “You don’t have to carry those. We’re not guests. We can manage.”

  Dark eyes peered at her through a pair of the thickest glasses Gabby had ever seen.

  “And I can still manage my job,” Elsie replied smartly.

  “Elsie, you know what I told you about overdoing it,” Lucille scolded. “Harold can bring up the larger cases as soon as he parks the limo.”

  Though she didn’t insist on carrying the heavier suitcase, Elsie kept hold of the shoulder bag and slowly led them up the stairs to a third-floor suite that consisted of a living room, bathroom and two bedrooms, all of which were decorated in a white, cream and gold color scheme. Gabby thought the quarters must have been quite elegant when new, but now the furnishings—couches, carpets and curtains—were worn and a bit threadbare.

  “Whew, those stairs are something,” Lucille said, puffing as she entered the suite. “That’s why no one’s been living up here. The elevator’s been out of operation three or four years now.”

  “More like seven,” Elsie muttered as she set down the shoulder bag near a large bay window. “I don’t know what this place is coming to. I surely don’t.”

  “It’s coming to nothing but good,” Lucille stated. “Once the club is a big success, everything that’s broken can be fixed and everything that’s worn can be replaced. It’ll be like the old days.”

  Gabby thought that a bit of an overstatement, but she didn’t say so. It would probably take years of investing Lucille’s share of the profits to restore the entire forty-room mansion, but she didn’t want to put a damper on the elderly woman’s enthusiasm.

  “You two take it easy until dinner, which won’t be until six-thirty or so,” their hostess said, following Elsie toward the hall. “Kick off your shoes, take a long soak. Mae West used to love that bathtub. We decorated this entire suite to her taste so she’d feel at home, you know.”

  When Lucille left, Gabby was happy to do as her hostess suggested. The spacious bath was of white Italian marble, the tub almost big enough for a swim, she thought, taking advantage of the small luxury while her mother napped.

  So when they headed for dinner a couple of hours later, Gabby was rested, relaxed and ready to meet Lucille’s boarders.

  Two men stood talking in the open parlor off the dining room. Gabby recognized Neil Delaney, a second banana in the light comedies of the fifties and sixties, and Yancy Knight, who’d been a movie heavy until a decade before when he’d suddenly dropped out of sight.

  “Be still my heart,” Neil declared as they entered the parlor. The white-haired man strode forward and held out a hand to each woman. Dressed in comfortable trousers and an open-throated shirt, he looked to be an attractive seventy. He gave Anita a flirtatious smile. “I think I’m in love.”

  Anita laughed. “Some things about Hollywood never change.”

  “They mighta
got rid of the cowboys,” Lucille said as she joined them through a second doorway, “but they left the bull behind.”

  “And this guy actually imagines he has a way with women,” Yancy rasped, his distinctive, knife-edged voice as hard as the rest of him.

  Although he was only a few years younger than Neil, Yancy still had the well-toned, muscular body of a man half his age. Not to mention the hair, Gabby thought, trying not to stare at the obviously fake coal-black color that matched his dramatic black knit shirt and slacks.

  “If the truth be known, Yancy’s the real ladies’ man around here,” Lucille stated with a chuckle. “So watch out for him.”

  The man’s rugged face softened with his smile. “Lucille, that’s positively the nicest thing you’ve said about me in years.”

  Although their hostess had told Gabby and Anita all about her little group of retirees on the ride home, she introduced the two men and spoke enthusiastically about their backgrounds. Jayne Hunter joined them just as the doorbell rang.

  “Ah, our guest has arrived. Whaddya say we stop yappin’ and get some grub?” Lucille turned to Gabby. “Say, toots, would you mind answering the door? If we wait for Elsie to do it, dinner’ll get cold.”

  “Sure. You go ahead and sit.”

  Neil and Yancy escorted the three older women into the dining room while Gabby headed for the door, wondering who she would find on the other side. Another of Lucille’s famous old cronies? She froze for a second. Surely Lucille wouldn’t have invited Price Garfield….

  Before she could move to find out, the door opened and Kit walked in.

  “I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow,” she said, trying to convince herself she was glad to see him only because the unexpected guest turned out to be the younger rather than the senior Garfield. Unfortunately she couldn’t help admiring Kit, who looked as comfortable—and handsome—in business attire as he had in jeans.

  “Lucille ordered me to show.”

  With a sheepish smile Kit shrugged his shoulders, which were encased in a perfectly tailored silk-blend gray suit jacket. Gabby suddenly felt underdressed in her white capris and purple cotton pullover.