Dancing Shoes and Honky-Tonk Blues

by MCLANE, LUANN

  “I understand.” I want to tell him that I’m no stranger to being laughed at but I don’t.

  He rubs his index finger over the rim of the coffee mug and looks at me thoughtfully. “But while we’re poking fun at reality shows, this in effect is one . . . unscripted, so who knows what might happen? Sure, there will be humor but . . .” He shakes his head. “Then again you might be better than anticipated and show the audience a thing or two about Misty Creek, Kentucky. You just never know . . .”

  Oh, I know all right that we’re gonna suck, but I give him a serious nod like I’m buying into his scenario. I suddenly picture Travis Tucker or Betty Cook twirling across the dance floor and have to swallow the laughter that bubbles up in my throat. Luckily he’s unzipping a fancy-looking leather case so he misses the amusement that’s nearly choking me.

  “Here is a packet of information for you. Please read it over carefully. I’ll need everything signed and returned to me within the next thirty-six hours. The dance instructors will be arriving any day now and we hope to start rehearsals by the weekend. We’ve had a crew at Rabbit Run Lodge stocking the kitchen and setting things up.”

  “Isn’t this moving kinda fast?” My heart starts doing a tap dance in my chest.

  “Yes, but we need to film this show while the whole ballroom dancing craze is still hot. Yesterday’s news isn’t funny.” He gives me a level look with those amazing blue eyes. “You do want to do this, right, Abilene?”

  “Yes!” I quickly nod. “Oh, and pul-ease call me Abby. Mama is the only one who calls me Abilene . . . well, unless Jesse’s mad at me and does it just to get my goat.”

  He smiles at my unexpected candor. “Your brother is a talented young man. His essay had me laughing my head off.”

  “Really? Jesse’s usually so . . . reserved.”

  “Well then, he’s got a hidden talent. With a little polish I could see him going places in this business.”

  Wow, I think to myself. Who knew? Of course Mama and I’ve been so consumed with keeping this diner afloat that life has been passing us by . . . including Jesse’s childhood. What a sobering thought.

  “Are you okay, Abby?” He sets his coffee cup down and gives me a concerned look.

  “I must admit that this is all a bit overwhelming, but why do you ask?”

  “For a moment there, you looked as if you had the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  I shrug but I’m a bit unnerved that this stranger is reading me so well.

  “If you’re worried about your mother, well, she seems like she can handle things in your absence.” He reaches over and pats my hand. “This will be an adventure, Abby. Fun. Exciting. Soak it all up and enjoy yourself.”

  “Okay,” I answer with a smile. Mitchell Banks has somehow managed to calm my nerves and get me looking forward to this crazy thing I’ve gotten myself involved in. I notice that his gaze has shifted from my face to over my shoulder, and sure enough my mother appears with a coffeepot that she handles like it’s an extension of her hand.

  “Would you like a refill, Mr. Banks?”

  “Yes, please. Your coffee is delicious . . . smooth and rich. My compliments.”

  “Why, thank you kindly,” she responds with a proud smile. “I would have refilled your cup earlier, mind you, but I didn’t want to interrupt.” She fills his cup with a flourish. “May I bring you breakfast? On the house, of course.”

  “That would be most excellent,” he says with a wide smile that shows off perfect teeth. I must admit that he’s pretty danged hot for an older dude. “But on two conditions.”

  Mama arches one elegant eyebrow. How she manages to be a southern belle while waiting tables is beyond me. “And what might those be?”

  “One, that you call me Mitch. And two, that you allow me to pay for my meal.”

  Mama inclines her head. “I will call you Mitch but breakfast is on me. Now, just what would you like?”

  I’m watching this exchange like it’s a tennis match and the two of them have forgotten all about me.

  “Is there something special that you would suggest?” His voice is a smooth rumble and my mother gives him a look that I swear could melt butter!

  “The all-American breakfast is a popular choice. We make everything from scratch, even the hash browns.”

  “Does it come with grits?”

  Mama’s mouth curves into a big smile. “Do you like grits?”

  He smiles right back. “Never had them but I enjoy trying new cuisine.”

  Mama chuckles. “Here at the diner we think of it as good ole down-home cookin’. Now, how would you like your eggs?”

  “Over easy.”

  “Bacon, sausage, or ham?”

  He frowns. “Um, do you have turkey bacon?”

  Mama taps her pencil on her cheek. “Now, just how could you wrangle bacon from a turkey?” She gives him a wide-eyed look but he somehow gets that she’s joking.

  “Okay . . . bacon, please.”

  “Biscuits or toast?”

  “Whole wheat toast.”

  “The biscuits are to die for.”

  “You’re tempting me . . .”

  “All that low-carb nonsense is a bunch of hoo-ha,” Mama tells him with a wave of her hand. “We have customers who eat a real honest-to-goodness breakfast here each and every day and who will live to be a hundred. It’s all about hard work and clean living.”

  Oh, Mama . . . why did you say that?

  Her eyes widen and she looks like she wants to clamp her hand over her mouth. “Oh my, I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t work hard or live clean . . . I meant it as a general observation,” Mama says quickly, but of course the damage has been done.

  “So I’m a damned Yankee, huh?” Mitch says but then smiles. “No offense taken, Sadie. You’re probably spot-on in your general observation, anyway.”

  “Spot-on?” Mama frowns at Mitchell and I notice that the color is high in her cheeks.

  “Correct,” he tells her.

  “Oh,” she says, nodding slowly. “Again, I meant no offense . . . sometimes my mouth just rattles on and on . . .”

  Mitchell shrugs his wide shoulders. “I think we all have preconceptions . . . perhaps misconceptions or prejudices if you will about people and places that we’re not familiar with. This show will be an eye-opener in many ways, I’m sure.”

  “So, will you be in town for the entire production?” I ask, thinking surely he has bigger fish to fry. I notice that my mother is itching to get back to her tables but looks at him expectantly.

  Mitchell cradles his coffee mug for a moment as if making a decision and then says, “Yes, I believe I will. I had intended to leave when the director and the production crew arrives, but I’m beginning to think that I won’t want to miss a moment of this . . . adventure.” He glances at Mama and I have to wonder if he is entirely referring to the show.

  “I do have to get back to work,” Mama says with a smile even though the breakfast crowd has cleared out. “It was so nice to make your acquaintance . . . Mitchell.”

  I know that he said to call him Mitch but Mama always calls people by their full name. He must get this, because he doesn’t correct her.

  “Likewise, Sadie. Perhaps we can have dinner one evening.” He stands up and politely shakes her hand.

  Mama quickly withdraws her hand from his grasp and places her palm against her throat. “Oh . . . I . . . I don’t know.” She glances at me.

  “Mama, I think that it would be very hospitable of you to show Mr. Banks around our town.” I shoot her a look that says that I’m fine with her having dinner with him and that it would be entirely proper.

  As if sensing that Mama is a bit flustered, Mitch says, “No pressure. I’ll stop in and we can talk.” He reaches in his leather case and gives her a business card. “Or you can call me.”

  “Why, thank you,” she says and takes the card but I know that I have a better chance of seeing pigs fly than my mama calling up a man for
a date. “Now, I really must get back to work.” She turns on her rubber-soled heel and hurries away.

  Mitch takes a sip of coffee and then says, “I made your mother uncomfortable, didn’t I?”

  “Mmm, a little.”

  “It wasn’t my intention.”

  “Oh, I think she knows that.” I take a deep breath and then give him a slow smile while shaking my head. “Things are gonna get all shook-up around these parts, aren’t they, Mr. Banks?”

  “I think it’s safe to say yes. Are you ready to get all shook-up, Abby Harper?”

  Hell yeah. A little shiver of excitement ripples down my spine and I grab the edge of the table. Jesse was right when he said that my life was in a rut. Well, I’m about to climb right up out of my danged hole that I’ve dug for myself. I give him a grin that’s a bit shaky around the edges. “I think it’s safe to say . . . yes.”

  “Good. Read through the packet of information carefully,” he tells me. “There will be an orientation meeting tonight up at the lodge, but you can move in early today if you want to get settled.”

  “Today?” About a thousand questions pop into my head but I don’t even know where to begin so I just blink at him like a ninny.

  “If you wish,” he says with a nod. “Just make sure that you’re there for orientation. The instructors will arrive the following afternoon.”

  “Good . . . good.” I smile even though my stomach feels as if it’s spinning like a top. “Well, I’d better start packing,” I say and scoot from the booth. Of course, he politely stands up with me and we shake hands.

  “See you tonight, Abby.”

  Since my voice suddenly escapes me I simply nod. I pass Mama, who is bringing a tray laden with the all-American breakfast. She has a smile on her face and color in her cheeks and I’m thinking that I might not be the only one getting all shook-up.

  3

  Movin’ Out

  As I stop for the last red light at the outskirts of Misty Creek I glance in the rearview mirror. It feels so weird to be heading away from town instead of working at the diner. I feel sort of guilty like I’m playing hooky or something. Although I had been prepared to finish out my shift, Mama had insisted that I go up to my apartment and pack. I had argued a bit but when Mama insists on something you might as well just give in, so I did. Not knowing all I might need, I had packed almost every article of clothing that I own and it’s now sliding around in suitcases and duffel bags in the bed of my truck. Luckily, I have a cap on my old pickup because it looks as if it might rain or, heaven forbid, snow. Although it’s late in February and we’ve had some recent mild weather teasing us that spring is around the corner, I know that in these here parts that can change with how the wind blows.

  My old truck climbs the steep and winding road like an old horse, pausing to cough and sputter now and then just to let me know how hard she’s working. Finally, I reach the top of the ridge where the tall pine trees are cleared for Rabbit Run Lodge. While I’ve never been up here to hunt, the lodge doubles for summer camp in June and July and I spent many weeks up here as a kid so I know the layout and surrounding area very well. While other kids went to soccer or basketball or cheerleading camp, I was content to come here to make macaroni necklaces and crafts that always ended up becoming an ashtray and to sing silly songs around the campfire. Yes, I was a geek, not an athlete, and that has me completely worried I will never be able to master the complicated steps in ballroom dancing. I can’t even remember country line-dancing routines.

  Pushing that frightening thought from my mind, I park my truck near the entrance to the big A-frame structure. Weathered and rustic, the lodge blends into the woods like it simply sprang up from the ground. Two wings are attached to the main building and I remember that there’s a huge deck off the back overlooking rolling hills and a deep valley below. To the left is a fishing lake where I used to swim and canoe when camping here as a kid. I lean against the steering wheel taking it all in and thinking that never in a million years would I have guessed that I would be coming to Rabbit Run Lodge to learn ballroom dancing for a reality TV show. “Life is pretty danged weird,” I whisper.

  Finally, I gather up the nerve to open my creaky door and step out of my truck. The cool breeze ruffles my hair and carries the scent of damp earth and pine. I inhale deeply, trying to clear my head and calm my nerves as I walk toward the entrance. A few other cars and trucks are here, so I guess that some of the other contestants have arrived as well.

  But just when I’ve managed to calm myself down a tad with a little you can do this pep talk, I open the big double doors to the lodge and I have to stop dead in my tracks. It’s as if I’ve entered a big beehive and there’s a swarm of worker bees buzzing here, there, and everywhere. People are hanging huge lights, bringing in carts of food and skids of bottled water. The back of the A-frame building is the dining area and there’s a crew polishing the hardwood floor with a big machine. Someone carrying a huge fresh flower arrangement bumps me from behind and after a hastily muttered apology hurries away. Orders are being shouted and even though it looks like utter chaos I’m guessing that the Rabbit Run Lodge will be totally transformed in short order.

  “Wow,” I say under my breath. I’m feeling like I’m in the way but at the same time going pretty much unnoticed by the workers. I’d dearly love to find my room, to unload my gear and read through the giant orientation booklet, but I have no idea who to approach. I’m looking around hoping to see Mitchell Banks when I spot none other than Julia Mayer. She doesn’t have that deer in the headlights look that I’m sure I’m sporting. Oh no, she’s got her sassy little cheerleader walk, big blond hair, and a bigger smile.

  “Hey, Abby!” Julia gushes and hugs me like we’re long-lost friends. “Isn’t this excitin’?”

  “Yes,” I admit and give her a lukewarm smile. I’ve really got to get rid of this chip on my shoulder.

  “Have you gotten your room yet? They’re really, really nice.” She leans in closer, totally invading my personal space. “I had a bowl of fruit, some fancy chocolates . . . Go-di-va, and some heavenly smellin’ lotions.” She waves her hands in front of my face. “Here . . . smell.”

  I don’t want to smell but I take a polite, if very small, sniff and say primly, “Very nice.” I want to know how she got the key to her room but it’s hard to get a word in edgewise.

  “I can’t wait to learn to ballroom dance. Can you? It’s so, so romantic. Can you imagine? In Dancing with the Stars, they looked like they were floating on air.” She sighs dramatically and I remember her doing multiple back flips and impressive round-offs across the gym floor. Jesse was right. Julia is going to be very good at this. I’m going to suck. Well, hell. She’s blinking her big blue eyes at me and I realize that I haven’t answered.

  “Oh yes, I can imagine.” I say this with a bit of a sarcastic bite but she doesn’t get it. Oh, but Lordy, I can imagine and it makes me shudder. We have to step back out of the way when two guys push past us with a cartful of boxes.

  “Wonder what’s in that,” Julia says and clasps her hands together. She gets on her tiptoes and angles her head to read what’s printed on the side and then turns to me with a happy little gasp. “Oh, Abby, it’s dancing shoes! Do you think they’re for us?”

  “That’s a fair assumption,” I tell her and somehow refrain from rolling my eyes. But I have to admit that her excitement is contagious and I’m thinking that maybe she isn’t as bad as I remember in high school. I give her a genuine smile this time but take a step back when it looks as if she might hug me again. It’s not that I’m opposed to hugging but I usually reserve my affection for family, friends, and a really hot guy if given the opportunity.

  “Hey, girls,” says a deep and sexy voice that will forever set my heart a-flutter. Of course I school my features into what I hope is nonchalance and turn to face Danny Becker.

  “Hey there, Danny,” Julia says and I fully expect Danny to fawn all over her but he gives her a brief nod and
then smiles at me.

  “How’s your truck runnin’, Abby?” he asks. “Make it up the mountain roads okay?”

  “She was a little contrary, coughed and sputtered a bit, but made it okay.”

  “Good,” he says rather close to my ear. I know that he’s probably leaning in close because it’s noisy but this feels a little flirtatious. “If she gives you any trouble just give me a holler and I’ll give her a look.” He gives me a wink and a grin and now there’s no doubt that he’s flirting. I flick Julia a glance under my lashes and since she’s frowning I don’t think that she likes this one bit.

  Julia clears her throat, I suppose to get our attention, and says, “Are you excited about the competition, Danny? You always were such a good dancer.” She gives me a look that I’m sure is to remind me that she knows this from personal experience.

  Danny, though, just shrugs and doesn’t give her the time of day and turns back to me. I want to feel superior about Danny’s attention, thinking that this sort of turnabout is fair play, but my female radar tells me that there is something simmering beneath the surface.

  “Well,” Julia says with a breezy smile that seems a little forced, “I’m gonna head on up to my room and catch a nap. See y’all later.”

  “Okay,” I tell Julia, and Danny gives her an absent nod. Suddenly it’s just Danny Becker and me standing in the midst of the chaos.

  “You want to get some fresh air?” Danny asks.

  “Sure.” I nod like I’m not at all nervous but of course I am. Being with Julia Mayer has me feeling like an awkward sixteen-year-old again. Danny grabs my hand (holy cow) and we weave our way through the crew until we’re outside on the back deck.

  “Wow, this is a great view,” he comments as he looks out across the rolling hills dotted with pine trees.

  “I’ve always loved it,” I admit and take a deep breath of the fresh air. “It’s even prettier when everything is all lush and green.”