“But that’s not the only thing, Case.” DJ glanced out the window again, then turned to Casey. “It just feels like you’ve pushed me away. Like we’re not even friends anymore.”
“We’re friends.”
“But we never talk.”
“I’ve been busy, DJ. Uber-busy”
“I know. We all are. But that’s never kept us from talking before. It feels like you’re avoiding me.”
“That’s crazy. Why would I avoid you?” Casey looped the handle of her bag over her shoulder, like she was ready to bolt.
“I don’t know. But I just thought it might help to talk.”
“Except that Seth will be here any—”
“I’m watching for him. He’s not here.”
“Yeah, but—”
“What’s going on with you, Casey?” DJ implored. “Is it something between you and Seth? Is he treating you badly?”
“I don’t know why you’re always accusing him of that.”
“I’m not accusing anyone of—”
“You are too. It’s like you hate him, DJ. It’s like you think you’re better than him. And you don’t even know him. Not like I do.”
“Well, obviously.”
“See!” Casey pointed her finger. “There you go, making insinuations.”
“I’m not making—”
“Yes, you are. You think the worst of him. And that means you think the worst of me. And if that’s how you think, how are we supposed to be friends?”
DJ didn’t know what to say.
“Seth loves me, DJ.”
DJ blinked. “He loves you?”
“Yes! Why is that so hard to believe?”
She shrugged. “It just didn’t look very loving when he shook you like that.”
“See, there you go jumping to conclusions again.”
“I know what I saw, Casey. That was not a loving thing to do.”
“Who died and made you the expert on love?”
DJ sighed. This was not going the way she’d planned. “Look, Casey, I don’t claim to be an expert on anything. And maybe I’m all wrong about Seth. In fact, I hope I am. But I still want to be your friend, okay? I want you to be able to talk to me…you know, if you ever need to. That’s all I’m saying. Do you get that?”
Casey nodded, but her expression was doubtful.
“I’m sorry if I stepped on your toes. You know me, Case, I’m not a great diplomat. I usually just call it the way I see it.”
“I know.” Casey sniffed with indignation. “But sometimes the way you call it hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” DJ turned and looked out the window in time to see a car pulling up. “And it looks like Seth’s here anyway.”
Before DJ could even turn around, Casey was gone. DJ stood watching out the window. Casey hadn’t waited for Seth to come up to the house. And for all DJ knew, maybe he never came up to the house. In fact, he didn’t even get out of the car; he just sat there waiting in the driver’s seat. Casey was barely in the car when he took off. How gallant.
DJ sat down in the old leather chair at the desk and considered the situation. Why was it that someone like Casey someone who grew up in a church-going Christian home with a strong father figure, could settle for so little in a guy? And why was it that Casey was willing to be treated the way that DJ suspected Seth treated her? Was it simply a case of low self-esteem? Or was she some sort of masochist? What was going on in Casey’s head?
“Hey,” called Taylor. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you still on for the art walk tonight?”
“Of course.” DJ slowly stood.
“Something wrong?”
“No, I just had a little chat with Casey.” DJ had already told Taylor about the grabbing/shaking incident at school. Taylor hadn’t even been surprised.
“Didn’t go too well?”
“I’m sure you can imagine. I probably said everything you told me not to say.”
“Sometimes people can only see what they want to see. Take it from me, I know this personally.”
“I suppose…but I just wanted Casey to know I’m here for her…if she needs to talk.”
“I’m sure she knows that already, DJ.”
“I’m not so sure. And besides, I think I managed to thoroughly offend her—by dissing her boyfriend.”
“Well, you tried. Anyway, Harry just called and he wanted to know if we were okay to get dinner first. He said that he and Conner are starving and if they don’t eat before the art walk, they will perish.”
DJ grinned. “No problem. I’m with them.”
Taylor called Harry back and within minutes the guys arrived in Harry’s Jeep. But, unlike Seth, both these guys came to the front door and both of them opened the car doors for the girls. And, although DJ knew it was only a gesture, she also knew that it was more than just a surface thing. And she appreciated it.
“You know what still amazes me?” Taylor said as the four of them were strolling down Main Street toward Bradford’s mom’s gallery and their final stop on the art walk.
“No, what?” ventured DJ.
“That we can have fun like this”—Taylor grinned—“without alcohol and stupid partying.”
Harry nodded. “And no worries about getting dragged into City Hall and being booked for underage drinking.”
“And no hangovers.” Conner jabbed Harry with his elbow. “I still remember how wiped out you got on that ski trip to Vermont. You were in bad shape, man.”
Harry laughed. “Yeah, can’t say I miss that.”
“Me neither,” added Taylor.
“As for me,” DJ said, “I never liked the taste of alcohol in the first place. And I always hated what I saw it doing to my friends.”
“Hey, that looks like Seth’s car.” Conner pointed to a small red car crossing an intersection on Main Street.
“I thought they were at a movie.” DJ studied the sports car as it zipped out of sight. “But they’re going the wrong way.”
“Looks like they’re headed for the beach,” Taylor observed as they paused in front of the Mockingbird Gallery.
“Anyone’s guess as to why they’re going there,” Harry said lightly as he opened the plate-glass door, then waited until the girls went inside.
DJ let out a frustrated sigh. She had no doubts about what Harry was insinuating. And, although it made her mad to hear him say it, she knew that it probably was true. And, really, why should it surprise her? Everyone knew what Seth was like. Everyone except Casey, that is. Or maybe DJ was wrong. Maybe Casey knew exactly who Seth was…but maybe she just didn’t care.
“Hey, it’s about time you guys showed up,” said Rhiannon as she held out a platter of cheese and crackers to them. “I’ve been watching for you.”
“We saved the best for last,” Taylor said as she popped a piece of cheese into her mouth.
“Well, move around and act interested,” Rhiannon said quietly. “Gabrielle is feeling a little blue that more people didn’t show up.”
“Maybe I don’t have to act,” Taylor told her. “Maybe I am interested.”
Rhiannon beamed. “Great. And if I show you a piece that you buy, Gabrielle promised me a commission.”
“So show me what you think is good.” Taylor nodded toward Harry and, putting on airs, said, “Come on, dahling, let’s do some art shopping. Perhaps we’ll find a little something for Mother’s Day.”
“Brilliant idea,” agreed Harry in a perfect British accent. “I’m sure my mum would appreciate a nice bit of art.”
Several people in the gallery watched as Rhiannon led the handsome couple around. DJ suppressed a giggle as Harry continued in his Brit accent and Taylor looked at paintings that had to be beyond her budget.
“Serious shoppers, eh?” Bradford chuckled as he joined Conner and DJ.
“For your mom’s sake, let’s hope so,” DJ said.
And, as it turned out, Harry and Taylor each made a purchase. Harry bought a hand-carved wooden bowl and Taylo
r got her mom a beautiful hand-thrown ceramic pitcher. “It’s called raku,” she explained to DJ. “Rhiannon said that means it was fired using an outdoor pit.”
“It’s gorgeous,” DJ told her. “Every time you turn it, I see a different color.”
“I can gift wrap these for you guys,” Rhiannon offered, “if you’re not in a hurry.”
So while they waited, DJ wandered around the gallery again. She wondered what it would feel like to be buying her mom a Mother’s Day gift. She couldn’t actually remember buying a Mother’s Day gift. She remembered her dad got Mom a toaster oven once and said it was from both of them. But when DJ saw Mom’s disappointment in the appliance, she privately confessed that it hadn’t been her choice. After the divorce, money had been tight, so DJ had made homemade cards and served breakfast in bed with flowers from the yard, and her mom had always seemed appreciative. And then she was killed in the car wreck…and DJ never got a chance to get her anything really nice. DJ stood admiring a small seascape painting. It was by a local painter and the scene looked familiar.
“That’s pretty, isn’t it?” Conner said as he came to stand beside her.
DJ nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I was just thinking it’s the kind of thing my mom would’ve loved.”
Conner reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You miss her sometimes, don’t you?”
She nodded again. “Yeah…it usually catches me by surprise.”
“I bet your grandmother misses her too.”
DJ considered this. “Yeah…you’re probably right.” She took in a deep breath. “You know, I’ll bet my grandmother would like this painting.”
“So…” Bradford joined them, rubbing his hands together like a hungry salesman. “Can I interest you in this lovely acrylic? It’s small but well done. And the artist is dead, so it’s probably worth a lot.”
DJ turned and looked at him. “Actually, I think I’d like to buy it.”
“Really?” He blinked. “I mean, I wasn’t seriously trying to get you—”
“I don’t have the cash on me, but if your mom could hold it for a couple of days, I’ll get some money from my savings on Monday.”
“Yeah, sure, if you really want it, DJ.”
“I do.”
He reached out and shook her hand. “It’s a deal.”
DJ had no idea how Grandmother would react to this slightly extravagant gift, not to mention the fact that DJ would have to go into her college savings to purchase it, but DJ knew it was something she wanted to do.
Gabrielle left the older couple she’d been talking with and came over to join DJ and Conner and the others. “You kids,” she said happily. “I’m so glad you came by tonight. And Bradford tells me that you’re not just window-shopping either.”
“You have some beautiful pieces here,” Taylor told her.
“Thank you. It’s so refreshing to see the younger generation with an appreciation for the arts.” She smiled as Rhiannon came out with the wrapped and neatly bagged gifts, handing one to Taylor and one to Harry. “And dear Rhiannon, you’ve been such a help to me tonight.” Gabrielle gave Rhiannon a big hug. “You kids are always welcome in my gallery!”
“And DJ wants to buy the Saltzer seascape,” Bradford proudly informed his mom.
Gabrielle looked genuinely surprised. “Oh, DJ, you have an excellent eye for art. And, really, that piece is a bargain. Andrew Saltzer died a couple of years ago. This is one of the last paintings he did. I only acquired it last week.”
DJ nodded. “That’s what Bradford said.”
“I told DJ we could hold it for her until Monday,” Bradford explained.
“Certainly.” Gabrielle grasped DJ’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m happy to do that. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” DJ told her.
“Are you kids going over to hear the music at the coffeehouse tonight?” Gabrielle asked. “Or maybe it’s not your style of music.”
“Who’s playing?” Taylor asked with interest.
“Ben’s Blue Boys,” Gabrielle told them. “Ben’s an old friend. They play a West Coast style of jazz. Sort of like Coltrane sound.”
“Sounds good to me.” Taylor turned to the others. “I’m in.”
And so the six of them headed down the street to McHen-ry’s Coffee House, where they snagged the last available table and enjoyed jazz and coffee and each other’s company. It was really a great evening. But then DJ noticed a girl with short strawberry-blond hair, and for a moment she thought it was Casey. She felt disappointed when it wasn’t. She wondered what Casey was doing right now. And whatever it was, wouldn’t she be having more fun if she were here with them? Why didn’t she get it?
3
“I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR EVERYONE,” Grandmother announced after the girls quieted down in the third-story ballroom where they had just convened for modeling practice. She looked toward the door behind them, then waved her hand as if to invite someone in. “Our favorite designer—Dylan Marceau is here!”
Everyone turned to see Dylan stride into the room like a celebrity. The girls all stood and clapped as he joined Grandmother in front.
“And I’m happy to see that my favorite models are here.” Dylan smiled as he scanned the group. “As well as some new faces.”
Grandmother smiled. “Yes, we invited a few more of the local girls to join us for the Mother’s Day fashion show. Besides the eight girls at your New York debut, we have an additional four. Will you girls please stand when I say your names?” She glanced at her little cheat sheet. “Ariel Buford…Jolene Kranz…Tina Clark…Madison Dormont. I thought it might be nice to have an even dozen.”
“Very nice.” Dylan nodded.
DJ wasn’t inclined to agree. At least when it came to Madison and Tina. Those two girls still felt like trouble. But DJ was determined to do her best to get along. And if any catfights broke out, she would not be in the middle of them.
Dylan explained that the girls would be modeling the same line that they’d modeled during Fashion Week. “I apologize that it’s not the new spring line, but I must keep that top secret until fall.”
“But at least it will be new to Crescent Cove,” Grandmother pointed out. “And we are so appreciative to have Dylan honor us like this.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Dylan smiled at all the girls, but DJ sensed that his eyes were on Taylor. Not surprising, since Taylor was his favorite.
“And, just like you asked, I’ve found a choreographer who has volunteered to donate her time,” Grandmother told Dylan. “In fact, some of you girls probably know her—Miss Walford is the dance team coach at Crescent Cove High School.” This caused a few of the girls who were dance team members, including Tina and Madison, to clap with enthusiasm.
Grandmother glanced at her watch. “Miss Walford should be here any minute. She had an appointment to attend to first.”
“And I brought the music that I’d like you to use.” Dylan handed Grandmother a CD.
“Why don’t I have the girls do some runs on the catwalk while we wait for Miss Walford to arrive?”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Dylan said.
Grandmother clapped her hands, moving over to the stairs by the makeshift runway that they used for practice. “All right, girls, let’s get you lined up and ready to go.”
“If you don’t mind”—Dylan joined Grandmother—”I’d like to arrange them.”
“Certainly.” Grandmother stepped aside.
“Taylor, you will open the show.” He gave her a broad smile. “You’ll set the pace for everyone else to follow.”
Taylor nodded and went over to stand by him.
Now he scanned the girls. “Daisy I’d like you to be next. Then DJ, followed by Eliza.” Soon he had them lined up. But it seemed clear that he considered the first four to be his starting lineup. And while DJ felt flattered to be in the top four, it also made her a little uneasy. She suspected that some of the others, like Madison and Tina, might be jealous
. But at least they couldn’t blame anyone but Dylan for this.
“Sorry I’m late,” called out Miss Walford as she came into the room. She had on jeans and a sweatshirt—not exactly Grandmother’s favorite sort of attire. But Grandmother was gracious to her, introducing her and explaining that they’d already begun to practice.
Soon the music was playing and Miss Walford coached the girls to move in some new ways and to strike some new poses. Dylan pointed out what he liked and what he didn’t, then eventually sat down and just watched. This was actually the part about modeling that DJ liked. It felt sort of like a sport and, no different from playing basketball or soccer, DJ focused on doing her best, and that meant imitating Taylor.
“You girls look fantastic,” Dylan said when the music ended. “I’m confident that you’ll do my styles honor on Mother’s Day.”
“And everyone is invited downstairs for a light brunch that Clara has prepared for us,” Grandmother announced. “Dylan, I hope you can stay a bit before you rush back to the city.”
“My pleasure.”
Soon they were all down in the dining room, eating and visiting. Madison quickly cornered Dylan, gushing about how much she loved his designs. But DJ wondered if Madison really knew the difference between a Dylan Marceau and a Ralph Lauren. Not that DJ necessarily did. But she didn’t pretend to either.
“Do you want to make a break for it?” she asked Taylor as she set down her empty plate.
“Sure.” Taylor nodded toward Dylan. “But maybe we should tell him good-bye first.”
They went over and thanked Dylan for coming and told him they were leaving, but he wouldn’t hear of it. “You girls can’t go yet,” he said as if he was hurt. “What’s so important that you can’t spend a little more time with your old buddy Dylan?”
“Just prom dress shopping,” DJ admitted.
He nodded. “Well, that is important.”
“But we don’t have to rush off,” Taylor assured him.
He glanced around the room, then back to Taylor. “Is there someplace where we can talk privately?”
“The library,” DJ suggested.
“Thank you.” Dylan smiled. “And you come too, DJ. I know you and Taylor are good friends.”
Last Dance Page 2