Free The Dance by Barbara Steiner Page B

I’m not prying.”
    â€œOh, no. Leona’s apartment is brimming over. She asked us to keep some things in our spare room.”
    â€œOh—Hank—she must see these.” Melanie wanted Hank’s opinion of how much the tapestries were worth. There was money here someplace. Of course, having a dance school didn’t automatically mean you were poverty stricken, but it was usually the norm. Her mom had told her once that Ilene was struggling to keep the school going. That might have been why she sold it; it was going under anyway.
    Nicol grabbed Melanie’s arm when she would have gone after Hank. “I know Hannah is your friend, Melanie, but—”
    Suddenly, for some reason, Melanie felt awkward alone with Nicol. She turned and headed down the stairs and Nicol followed. Hank leaned against a counter in the kitchen, sipping a Diet Pepsi.
    â€œHank, you missed some gorgeous tapestries.”
    Hank didn’t appear impressed. She waited, then watched as Nicol hugged Melanie. “Think warm thoughts,” Nicol said. “And always think of the dance.”
    Melanie felt as though she was being dismissed. She followed Hank toward the entryway, assuming they’d find their coats, but she was disappointed that the party was already breaking up. “Say you have to go to the bathroom,” whispered Hank.
    Anne was holding the coats. Melanie took hers. “Oh, Anne, do you mind if I use the bathroom? It’s a long drive to my house.”
    â€œThanks, Anne.” Hank took her coat. “Go back to the party. We’ll let ourselves out.”
    Anne hesitated but turned and disappeared. The second she had, Hank grabbed Melanie’s arm. “Come on.” She tugged Melanie down the hall and into the bathroom quickly.
    Melanie couldn’t help but giggle. “I hope no one saw us. They’ll think we’re some kind of weirdos.”
    â€œSomebody here is. Look at this, Melanie.” Hank pulled open a drawer under the counter where two light green sinks sparkled. There was a book in the drawer. “Doesn’t this look like a cross between the great book at Judgement Day and Lady MacBeth’s sketchpad?” Hank lifted out the book. “It weighs about a ton, and here, take a sniff.”
    Melanie did, wrinkling her nose. “Smells like Carlsbad Caverns.”
    â€œDoes this qualify as something out of the ordinary or doesn’t it? I can’t read a word of it, either.”
    Hank flipped the book open. The printing looked hand lettered, but it wasn’t any language Melanie had ever seen.
    â€œMaybe it’s a theater prop. Remember Leona remodeled part of the theater for that antique store. She might have found it then.” Melanie hugged herself, feeling suddenly cold. She slipped on her coat. “Considering everything else Madame Leona collects, she probably collects old books, too.” Melanie remembered the old books in the antique shop, and Bryan’s teasing that he’d read them. “Yeah, that’s it. There were old books in the shop.”
    â€œI never saw anything like this before—in a theater or an antique store. The Book of Raziel .” Hank read the title. “At least the title is in English.”
    â€œMaybe it was their recipe book. I didn’t like any of the hors d’oeuvres they were serving. I’m still hungry. Let’s get out of here. Want to stop and get something to eat before we go home?”
    Suddenly Melanie needed to escape the posh apartment. She wanted to go back to her normal little house with its worn furniture, even to her mother’s questions.
    â€œDo you think Bryan would forgive me if I called him? Confess that we got kicked out of the party early. Asked him to eat with us?”
    â€œMaybe he’d bring Seth,” Hank suggested. “If we all went together, you and Bryan couldn’t fight.”
    â€œIs that your only reason for inviting