Free Dead Man Dancing by Marcia Talley Page B

schedule was any more taxing than that of any Little League or Youth Soccer fanatic. I pictured Henry as a serious kid with wire-rimmed glasses; a child of divorce, struggling to please. I wondered if he had a life, either.
    Tessa spun away from the barre in a series of spot spins that made me dizzy just watching. She staggered to a halt in front of her mother. ‘What do you think about that? Good, huh?’
    I hated seeing a little girl sweat.
    Before her mother could answer, Alicia appeared, clapped her hands and said, ‘C’mon little sugarplum fairies! Time for your exercises!’
    Ten little figures scrambled to the barre, rested their left hands lightly upon it, lined up like sparrows on a telephone wire. ‘Position one!’ Alicia shouted as the music began. ‘Plié. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.’
    â€˜That’s so sad.’
    Tessa’s mother couldn’t have been talking about the barre exercise. ‘What’s sad?’ I asked.
    â€˜Tessa was going to dance a sugarplum fairy in
The Nutcracker
this year, but Annapolis Ballet Theater decided to team up with another studio. Idiots! Tessa was
so
disappointed.’
    â€˜Demi plié!’ cried Alicia. ‘One, two . . .’
    Across the room, Tessa raised a graceful arm and bent her knees, stealing a moment to glance at her mother who nodded in approval.
    â€˜I was disappointed, too,’ Tessa’s mom continued. ‘I even considered taking Tessa out of class, but in the end, I just couldn’t do it. I’ve always been loyal to Jay and Kay.’ She turned to me and beamed. ‘But it’s just as well, isn’t it, because now there’s nothing to conflict with preparing Tessa and Henry for
Tiny Ballroom
!’
    â€˜I guess not,’ I said, disliking the woman intensely. I’d taken dancing lessons as a kid, too, but prancing around the Rec Center – step, together, step, kick – to the Beatles’ ‘Yellow Submarine’ at one dollar a lesson was just plain fun. Nobody expected to turn me into Ginger Rogers. And when I said I’d rather swim, please, my parents just smiled and said, sure, no problem. Maybe if they’d cajoled and wheedled and bribed me a bit, I’d have been just as accomplished as Tessa at nine.
    But without the fake tan and hair extensions.
    â€˜If you’ll excuse me, now,’ I said, ‘I need to go powder my nose.’
    It wasn’t until I got into the dressing room, and locked the door of the toilet stall behind me, that I realized I never asked Tessa’s mother her name.
    But, since I never planned to talk to her again if I could help it, what did it matter?

Nine
    F our days before Christmas, Ruth left a message on my cell, asking if I’d stop by J & K to critique the routine she and Hutch had been practicing for
Shall We Dance?
Paul was working late at the Academy, getting finals marked and end of semester grades turned in to the academic dean, so I thought, why not.
    On the way, I braved the icy roads, stopped off at Graul’s Market to buy a pound of coffee and a pint of half and half, so I got to J & K a little late, only to discover that Hutch had beaten both me and Ruth to the studio. ‘How’s it going, Hutch?’ I asked, peeling off my hat, gloves and scarf as I entered the studio and the air enveloped me in a superheated wave.
    Hutch tapped his watch, as if it might be broken. ‘Ruth’s late, and she didn’t call. With the icy roads and all, I’m a little worried.’
    I shrugged out of my coat. ‘She’s probably delayed in traffic.’ I hoped I sounded more reassuring than I felt. In point of fact, Ruth would be coming from downtown and using the same roads I had, and there had been absolutely no traffic problems for me. ‘She’ll be along.’
    â€˜I tried her cell phone,’ Hutch said, ‘but it goes straight to her