Free Dead Man Dancing by Marcia Talley Page A

Grandma.’
    â€˜Have you talked to Santa about that?’
    Chloe nodded. ‘Can I ask you something, Grandma?’
    â€˜Sure.’
    â€˜Is there really a Santa Claus?’
    â€˜What do you think, Chloe?’
    â€˜I don’t know. Mommy says that if you don’t believe in him, Santa won’t come.’
    Chloe’s normally smooth brow wrinkled in concentration. ‘I want a purple tutu, too.’
    â€˜Then I think you should write to Santa about that.’
    â€˜OK,’ she agreed. ‘But if Santa doesn’t bring me purple leotards this year, that’s it. I’ll never trust him again. And I’ll tell Jake and Timmy not to believe in him either!’
    The ultimate threat. Exposure! Poor Santa.
    The rest of Chloe’s little classmates began arriving, hanging up coats, flitting in and out of the dressing room, scurrying over to the barre preparing to exercise. A woman I took to be Tessa’s mother fussed over her daughter’s hair for a moment, then shoved the girl in the direction of the barre with the flat of a hand placed squarely on the child’s back. Chloe and I watched as Tessa raised her left leg, rested it on the barre, then slowly lowered her head until it touched her knee, as easily as a contortionist from
Cirque de Soleil
. Little show-off.
    Chloe noticed me watching. ‘I can do that, Grandma.’
    â€˜You can? Show me.’
    Chloe skipped over to the barre, her golden hair flopping. Using both hands, she lifted her leg to the barre, then lowered her head a few inches, missing her knee by a mile. She turned her head slowly toward me, a grin splitting her face.
    I clapped my hands silently.
    â€˜She’s got to keep her leg perfectly straight,’ somebody behind me whined.
    I turned to the speaker. Tessa’s mother.
    â€˜Do you mean Chloe?’
    â€˜Goodness, no, Chloe’s just a beginner. I mean Tessa. If I’ve told her once, I’ve told her a thousand times.’
    â€˜How old is Tessa? Ten?’
    â€˜Nine.’
    â€˜Plenty of time for her to practice, then.’
    Tessa’s mother stared at me as if I’d just told her that President Bush had declared the War on Terror a terrible mistake, and ordered all our troops home from Iraq. ‘For Chloe, maybe, but Tessa is trying out for
Tiny Ballroom
.’
    I’d actually seen promos for
Tiny Ballroom
, an American spin-off of a popular British show featuring eight to eleven-year-old dancers that would make its debut on cable TV in the US this coming summer. When I first saw the ads, I cringed, having a major JonBenet Ramsey moment. ‘Ballroom? I thought we were talking about ballet?’
    â€˜Tessa’s been studying ballet since she was five. She’s been taking ballroom privately from Alicia for about a year. We’re stepping it up a bit, because the
Tiny Ballroom
auditions are in three months.’
    I watched as Tessa, Chloe and several other girls began their barre exercises. ‘Who’s Tessa’s partner, then?’
    â€˜Oh my god, was
that
a production! When Joey retired, we had to put an ad in the paper. That’s how we found Henry. Tessa dances with him twice a week after school. He’s ten.’
    â€˜Tessa’s partner
retired
? At ten?’ I was glad this woman wasn’t my mother.
    â€˜Eleven. Apparently Joey preferred playing Little League.’ She sniffed, as if the child had declared himself a conscientious objector.
    â€˜Tessa must like dancing,’ I said.
    â€˜Loves it! Tessa’s a self-starter. She practices all the time. Link’s built a studio for her in the garage, fully-equipped. We’d schedule lessons three times a week, but Alicia’s only free on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, and Henry has to be with his dad on Saturday. So Saturday Tessa does tap.’
    I watched Tessa exercise and wondered if the little girl ever slept. But then, I didn’t suppose her