She handed him the two tickets.
Great, he could ask his mom.
“Better get that dress uniform to the dry cleaner and put a rush on it. Today may be the Marine Corp’s birthday, but the party is this Saturday night. Happy birthday, Calhoun.”
SITTING BESIDE HER DAD on the couch, Mitzi reached for a handful of popcorn. “Would you like to go see The Nutcracker this year? We haven’t been in a while.”
“I love the ballet,” Nora Jean said from the other side of the couch. “Especially that one.”
Nora Jean was Luke’s mom. And Lucky and Bruce’s stepmom.
Mitzi’s dad and Nora Jean attended a grief support group together. Mitzi had gone once, and that was enough to know it wasn’t for her. But until she’d moved back in with her father she’d had no idea how entrenched the woman was in his life.
“Sure, we can do that,” he said, only half listening as he surfed through the channels for a movie they could all agree on.
“I’m sorry, Nora Jean,” Mitzi said sweetly. “I only have the two tickets for opening night. And they’re sold out.”
“That’s too bad,” Nora Jean said.
“We could all go another night,” her father suggested. “You could invite that fella of yours along.”
“Oh, no, Fred. Mitzi already has the tickets. Date night with your daughter is important. You and I can go see The Nutcracker another time.”
Bah, humbug. So her poor dad wouldn’t have to sit through it twice, she gave up her tickets. “Take Nora Jean, Dad.” Nothing like being the fifth wheel on your own couch. Your own dad’s couch anyway. Mitzi got up to microwave her own bag of popcorn. She was tired of sharing. “You two watch whatever you want. I think I’m going to watch TV up in my room.” Instead Mitzi grabbed her microwave popcorn and several movies from the console, then headed outside to her dad’s minivan.
All because Nora Jean was intent on spoiling their father-daughter tradition. And because she herself was being selfish in excluding the other woman.
Her poor dad. Mitzi climbed into the back of the minivan for a good sulk.
“WHAT’S MITZI DOING in the van?” Bruce peered out the kitchen window as he helped his mother load the dishwasher. “She’s been out there a half hour now.”
“Why don’t you go ask her?” his mother suggested.
“I’m not going to ask.”
It was none of his business.
Bad enough he had to work in the same office. Sleep with a bedroom window facing her temporary one. These glimpses into her life were hell. He didn’t imagine his physical fitness test would be before the holidays. But he hoped it would be right after the New Year.
Still staring out the window, he rinsed another plate and handed it to his mother.
“Bruce,” she said, recalling his attention. “Do you remember carrying Mitzi piggyback all the way to school her first day of kindergarten? She worshipped the ground you walked on from that moment on.”
Shutting off the water, he flung the dish towel over his shoulder and leaned back against the counter. Way to take my mind off Mitzi. Freddie had tried to ditch her and she’d stopped to cry. Mom’s going to be mad at you, Freddie, if you lose me! Her mom was sick, and he felt sorry for her, so he’d gone back for her. “Her red cowgirl boots were too small and pinched her feet.”
“She’d outgrown them that summer.” His mom chuckled. “But still insisted on wearing them everywhere.” She closed the dishwasher. “That stubborn little girl has loved you for a long time. But it was always going to be a long fall from that pedestal, Bruce.”
Well, he’d certainly hit bottom.
“What are you doing Saturday night?” he asked, for a change of subject.
“Sorry, son. I have a date.” She shrugged. “Don’t forget to take out the trash,” his mother said, turning out the light.
Bruce reached under the sink and found a half-empty bag of trash and the excuse he needed to head outside in his T-shirt and pajama pants. He crossed to the Zahns’ drive and ducked into the back of their minivan on the driver’s side, sliding the door shut behind him. “What’s up?”
It took him only a few seconds to assess the situation. Mitzi was huddled in a blanket on the bench seat with a box of tissues. Dry-eyed, but staring at the small screen.
Home movies. This wasn’t good.
“Move over,” he said, making her sit to one side. “What are we watching?”
“Christmas.”
The Christmas he and Freddie had gotten those sticky-dart guns—that didn’t stick—in their stockings. There was Freddie in his Spider-Man pajamas, hamming it up for the camera while pretending to die onscreen. And here she was watching it.
Not good. He pried the remote from her hand.
“Hey, I was going to watch a movie.”
“It’s freezing out here,” he said. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable inside?”
“No, I would not. My dad’s making out with your stepmother,” she said. “Which one?”
“Pick one.”
“For the record, I don’t consider either of them my stepmother.” It wasn’t as if they’d helped raise him. Or were even still married to his dad.
“I meant pick a movie.” She directed him to the stack at his feet. “I gave up The Nutcracker tickets for Nora Jean,” she sulked. He chose Con Air and loaded the DVD player. “Oh, come on, Mitz.” He nudged her. “Your dad’s been alone a long time. Didn’t you ever think about him getting married again?”
“I always thought it would be Audrey.”
“Audrey? From the bowling alley?”
“Exactly. She’s been in his life so long he doesn’t even notice her anymore.”
“I’m sure he notices,” he said, not sure of any such thing as he hit the play button. Except how small the backseat of the van seemed. The intro started rolling and she tossed a corner of the blanket over his lap. The title came up on screen.
“Do you remember the Cinderella Twin Drive-In?” she asked. “I think we saw this movie there before they tore it down.”
He’d thought about it the minute he hit Play.
Her thigh brushed his good one and he swallowed hard. To think, he and Freddie used to make fun of guys with minivans.
She offered him some popcorn. “Make a move and the bunny gets it,” she said, borrowing a phrase from the movie.
He’d had the moves back then.
MITZI WAS FINISHING some paperwork at her desk on Friday when Keith walked in. “Don’t you have class?”
“Veterans Day,” he said.
Duh. Bruce had taken Henry to downtown Denver for the parade and had a few other things scheduled for the day.
“Sure, have a seat,” she invited. “Bruce isn’t here.”
“No, I know.” He sat across from her. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Is it about the ASVAB? Did Bruce give you a hard time last night?”
“Sort of, but not really. I’ve kind of changed my mind about joining the Marines.” He couldn’t seem to keep his foot still. He picked up a pencil from her desk and drummed it against his palm. “I just turned in a midterm report on the Battle of Iwo Jima.”
She sat back, confused about where this was going.
“You know that photo of the Marines raising the flag on Mount Suribachi? Only five of them were Marines. One was a Navy Hospital Corpsman. Bruce said the Navy and Marines were joined at the hip. And yesterday you mentioned being a corpsman before you became a rescue swimmer.”
“Nice to know somebody was listening.”
“How can I enlist in the Navy and serve with the Marines?”
“Keith,” she said, “let’s wait until Bruce gets back and we’ll talk to him together. If it’s the medical field you’re interested in, I helped your friend Kelly—”
“Heather’s pregnant,” he blurted. “I’m the father. I mean, I’m going to be a father.”
“Oh, Keith,” Mitzi said, reaching across the desk t
o cover his trembling hand. “Have you talked to your parents?”
He shook his head. “Nobody yet. Except you, I mean.”
“You and Heather need to talk to both your parents. If you don’t want to talk to them alone, talk to one of your brothers first and have them there with you.”
“Yeah, right. Like Bruce wouldn’t have a fit worse than Dad.’
“Lucky’s a father—”
“I don’t need him sticking up for me. I know what I have to do. If you’re not going to help me, I’m going to find another recruiter who will.”
CHAPTER TEN
A LIGHT SNOW FELL outside the Sheraton Denver Downtown on the night of the Marine Corps Birthday Ball. Standing under the covered drive, wearing his dress blues, Bruce checked his watch again—1800 hours sharp. Five more minutes. That was it.
Although mid-November seemed early for holiday lights, there were signs of the upcoming season everywhere. And now that the valet station behind him had quieted down after a rush of guests, he could hear the ringing bells on the corner.
A white Lexus with the state’s Marine Corps plates turned into the circular drive. An attendant rushed forward to open the passenger door and another to take the keys from Lieutenant Colonel Avari.
Snapping to attention, Bruce held his white-gloved salute until the colonel returned it. Bruce stepped to the front door and opened it for the district commander and his wife.
“Thank you, Marine.” The colonel glanced at his name tag. “Party’s about to start. Waiting on the date?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me guess. Getting her hair and nails done?”
Colonel Avari’s wife took a jab at him with her beaded handbag.
“She should be here any minute, sir.”
After the colonel and his wife were inside, Bruce checked his watch again. Then he paced toward the bell-ringing wheelie on the corner.
“Got you working as a doorman, I see,” said the familiar gruff voice.
“Bell ringer.”
“I volunteer.” Henry acted insulted.
“Same here.”
“Difference is you get paid for your volunteer work.” Henry rang his bell and Bruce took the hint, pulled out his wallet and dropped a five into the pot.
Henry cleared his throat. Bruce reached for another five. Henry didn’t like that any better, so Bruce pulled out a ten and added both to the pot. Apparently twenty bucks was good enough, because the old man stopped with the throat clearing.
“Wouldn’t want to break you,” he said, adjusting the wool blanket in his lap.
“You’re a real pal.” Though said with a heavy dose of sarcasm, Bruce was pretty sure Henry knew he meant it.
He’d taken Henry to the Veteran’s Day parade on Friday. And to the VA’s annual Stand-Down for homeless vets event at Denver’s National Guard armory that morning—where the old man had picked up that blanket and a pair of boots. Regular military were encouraged to hand down their old items, while the VA made sure homeless vets got military ID cards and signed up for services.
Though Bruce would have liked to believe there weren’t that many Gulf War and Iraq and Afghanistan vets homeless, he’d seen plenty of them downtown today.
“Look up or you’ll miss the show,” his pal said.
Bruce scanned the Sixteenth Street Mall.
Gathering her skirts to her knees, Mitzi stepped off the free mall shuttle on the opposite corner and ran the short distance to the hotel. She carried a backpack and wore combat boots and a bomber jacket with her formal gown.
Just as she had on prom night. She’d called it her Buffy the Vampire Slayer prom dress. Because he’d said she’d be better off wearing boots than slippers if she was going to be dancing with him.
Bruce squared his shoulders. Her beeline to the circle had bypassed their corner altogether.
“Well,” Henry said, “what are you waiting for now?”
The answer should have been obvious as she lowered her skirts and slowed to a walk. “Sorry I’m late,” he heard her say breathlessly as she walked up to Estrada.
What the hell was he doing here?
In Army dress blues, no less. This wasn’t his ball.
“You just gonna stand there looking stupid?” Henry growled at him. “I sure as hell wouldn’t stand down while some other fella tried to steal my girl.”
“She’s not my girl.” He was her past. This other man was her future. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, old man.”
Henry waved him off with a ring of his bell.
A taxi and two other vehicles pulled around to the drive. His party had arrived.
“WHAT’S SHE DOING HERE?” His aunt Dottie appeared to be more interested in what was going on over her shoulder than at their table. Sitting across from his aunt, Bruce had a better view, but the same question.
She had turned in her bomber jacket and boots at the coat check. Though her ball gown shimmered silver and not white, it looked too much like one of those dresses in the bridal magazines she’d dumped on him.
The heart-shaped bodice. The backless halter. Her bare shoulders.
Estrada used every excuse to touch her. And who could blame him?
Bruce could.
Tonight she wore her hair half-up, in soft curls. With tiny silver flowers in a random pattern that made him want to pluck them even though they weren’t real.
Pluck them. And let her hair down.
“Mitzi helped with the Toys for Tots drive last year,” Lucky said, settling into his seat between Cait and Bruce. “I put her on the invitation list as a thank-you.”
So he had Lucky to thank.
His brother shrugged an apology.
“I thought I saw Mitzi at the beauty shop,” his mother commented. Hair and nails being the reason they were sitting at the back of the room. “She looks very pretty tonight. Her dress reminds me of the one she wore to your senior prom. Don’t you think so, Bruce?”
Shoot me now.
“So that’s the infamous Mitzi?” Cait, looking radiant in her evening dress, hadn’t been around long enough to hear all the family gossip. But she’d heard enough. “She’s in the Navy, right? Why isn’t she in uniform?”
Dottie snorted. “I think she should be, but she doesn’t have to be.”
“You would know,” John said.
“Military women have the option to dress up,” his mother said, softening his aunt’s answer. The two female vets at their table wore cocktail dresses. Neither had stayed in long enough to retire from the service.
John had retired a gunny and wore his uniform proudly. As did Lucky and their father, Big Luke, who was somewhere—schmoozing—with the brass. Mitzi was hardly the only Navy in a room full of Marines, but most of the others were high-ranking courtesy invites.
An admiral. A couple of captains.
Their full dress white and dinner dress white uniforms stood out in a sea of blue. A Navy chaplain in a Marine uniform was a little harder to spot. And there were probably a couple of corpsmen and chaplain’s yeomen in the crowd. Navy personnel serving with the Corps had the option of wearing the Marine Corps uniform as long as they conformed to the stricter standards of grooming.
Estrada stood out in his Army dress blues.
“Why didn’t you bring a date, Bruce?” Dottie asked.
Please let this night end.
Bruce had asked his mom, and that’s how he’d found out the whole family was going. His aunt had come with his father, so that left him the odd man out. “Smart boy,” Big Luke Calhoun said, finally joining them. “Keeping his options open like his old man.”
Some options. This was a landlocked state.
The two hundred or so guests were mostly retired or reserves with spouses. Even so, the men here tonight outnumbered the women two to one. The handful of single women his age had dates. A couple of the women he saw in uniform might appreciate his asking them to dance for appearances’ sake, but they weren’t likely to be ringing each
other’s bells tonight.
“Gentlemen,” his father said, “shall we get these lovely ladies something to drink?”
THE MUSIC WAS SUBDUED for the sake of conversation. Mitzi wasn’t much for mingling tonight. She’d had a couple of days’ warning when Bruce got his invitation. But she’d accepted her invitation before Calhoun’s return.
And now wished she hadn’t.
Her date would be lucky to make it through the night without a few verbal clashes disparaging his uniform. Head high, Dan didn’t seem to mind the impolite stares. Most of them coming from one person at the Calhoun table, a couple rows behind them.
“It doesn’t look as if anyone else is going to be joining us this evening,” Dan commented on the four empty chairs.
“More champagne for the rest of us.” Dale Adams, a navy recruiter from the Littleton office, reached for one of the four bottles. Though he’d served as a corpsman in Iraq, he wore his Navy crackerjack uniform to the ball tonight.
Liz Adams smacked his hand and made him put it back. “That’s for the toast.” Dale’s lovely wife was pregnant with their first child.
As far as Mitzi knew, Keith hadn’t told his family about Heather’s pregnancy. Or his plans. She was processing his enlistment paperwork out of the Littleton office to avoid the inevitable confrontation.
They’d actually talked at some length before she’d agreed to enlist him. Not that Calhoun would understand.
“You might want to hurry, Estrada,” Adams said. “Bar closes in fifteen minutes.”
“You’ll need your tickets. There’s a two-drink limit at the open bar,” Liz volunteered. “He’s already put away his two and mine.” She patted her baby bump.
Adams leaned over and kissed her. “That’s how they keep all these Marines in line until after the speeches.”
“Who’s going to keep you in line?” Liz asked.
Mitzi dug the tickets out of her beaded handbag.
Her manicured nails had been painted a soft lavender and Dan kissed the back of her hand as she handed the tickets to him. “What would you like?”
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