Free Dancing in the Dark by Mary Jane Clark

way he was
now. Who was going to love a man without a job, a guy living on the
government dole? Who was going to love a man who spent his nights on a
lumpy mattress in a boardinghouse and his days drinking coffee and
wandering around town?
    Arthur pulled a package from his breast pocket and shook out a
cigarette. Striking a match, he lit up and inhaled deeply, peering down
to the end of the boardwalk, where the old Casino was framed against
the now dove-gray sky. He let out a long stream of smoke through his
nostrils and let his mind wander farther down the torture trail.
    What great times they’d had together. He pictured her petite figure
swirling around on the dance floor, her pretty face beaming up at him.
He remembered the way they’d laughed at the comedy clubs she loved to
go to, the way they’d cheered and hugged each other at those Yankees
games. He still remembered the fun they’d had picking out names for the
children they were going to have someday, after they got married, after
he finished his stint with the Army.
    Arthur rose from the bench and, with an angry flick, threw his
cigarette out onto the beach. Bonnie had promised that she would be
waiting for him when he got back from Desert Storm. Bonnie had lied.

CHAPTER 22
     
    “Mom,” Anthony whined as they stood in the small lobby of the
Dancing Dunes Inn. “You have got to
be kidding.”
    Diane had a sinking feeling as she scanned the space. A sleeping cat
lay curled up on a spindle-legged bench, the only piece of furniture in
the room. The wallpaper featured seagulls and sandpipers, faded, she
suspected, from blue at one time to almost white now. The beige cotton
curtains at the windows had been washed many times, to the point that
they were almost sheers. The gray paint on the wooden floor was scuffed
bare in spots. The lobby was devoid of color, but at least, Diane
consoled herself, it seemed clean.
    “All right, so it’s not the Ritz,” she whispered to her son. “But
quit complaining right now. I mean it, Anthony.”
    Diane stole a look at Emily, who rolled her eyes at her older sister.
    “May I help you?” A good-looking Latino man had taken his place
behind the tiny registration desk. He wore a pale green oxford shirt
with the sleeves carefully rolled up, exposing tanned
and toned forearms. Diane judged him to be in his early thirties.
    “Yes, thank you. I’m Diane Mayfield. We have some rooms reserved?”
    “Ah yes, of course.” The man smiled, exposing a set of even,
dazzling white teeth. “You are with KEY News, right?”
    Diane nodded.
    “I’m sorry I wasn’t right out here to meet you. I was in the back
working at my computer on brochures for the inn. And I hope you can
excuse the decor—or lack thereof,” he apologized, gesturing outward as
Diane noticed the gold band on his left hand. “My partner and I have
just bought this place. We have big plans for it. But the renovations
won’t begin down here until after the summer season.”
    Diane searched for something tactful to say as she looked around the
plain lobby. “Well, I’m sure it will be beautiful.”
    “I know it’s not what you must be used to, Ms. Mayfield, but if
there is anything we can do to make you and your family’s stay here
more comfortable, believe me, we will be all too happy to oblige. My
name is Carlos. Carlos Hernandez.” He reached out across the desk to
shake Diane’s hand.
    “Nice to meet you, Carlos. This is my sister, Emily Abbott, and this
is my son, Anthony. My daughter, Michelle, is getting her things from
the car.”
    Carlos acknowledged his guests and then turned to the Peg-Board
behind the desk. “Three rooms, right?” he asked as he reached for the
keys that hung from the hooks.
     
    “Actually, there should be four.”
    Carlos frowned as he checked his registry. “Well, we do have four
rooms booked for KEY News here, but one has already been taken by Mr.
Gates.”
    “Sammy Gates?” Diane asked.
    “Yes. Samuel