Dancing in the Dark

“Nothing. I mean, nothing but what’s been troubling me all along. I wonder if Daddy’s ever going to find a way to talk to Dr. Pommier.”

In for a penny, in for a pound, Gina thought. “I know about that. But I think something else is upsetting you. Something more personal.”

Wendy lifted her eyebrows. “What could be more personal than my leg?”

Gina ignored that. It had been offered as a diversion and she wasn’t going to be diverted. Not tonight.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since you had lunch with Alison.” She paused. “I thought seeing her would do you a world of good, but you came home sort of down, and you’re still down.”

“I’m probably just tired. The flight home—”

“That was a week ago.”

“Well, the change, you know? From one place to another—”

“Did you and Alison talk about Seth?” More subtlety, Gina thought unhappily. She couldn’t believe she’d blurted that out, but the idea had popped into her head without warning. One look at her daughter’s face and she knew she’d hit the mark.

“Why on earth would we talk about Seth?”

“Well, you’d just had that...that little blowup with him, so I just thought... I wondered...”

“No need to wonder. We didn’t talk about him. End of story.”

“I’m not prying, sweetie. I’m just worried about you.”

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about. Seth is history. I’m over him. He’s over me. He’s involved with someone, and that’s fine. Oh, don’t look so stricken, Mother.” Wendy rose to her feet and limped across the room. She grabbed a magazine from the small wooden rack, limped back and sat down again. “People in this town know what you eat for breakfast. Did you think I wouldn’t find out about Seth’s girlfriend?”

“Oh, baby. That explains why you’re upset.”

“I am not upset. Why would I be?” Wendy snapped open the magazine. “I don’t want to talk about Seth. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Mother and daughter remained locked in silence, Gina pretending to watch TV, Wendy pretending to read, until Howard returned an hour later. Wendy looked up, her face alive with expectancy, and Gina knew her daughter figured he’d gone to find the doctor.

But Pommier hadn’t been at the bed-and-breakfast, not in the public rooms at any rate. And Gina, though consumed with guilt, kept thinking, Please, please, let the doctor go back to New York.

There was no such thing as risk-free surgery. Besides, despite what Wendy said, Gina wasn’t at all sure that not being able to ski was the heart of the problem. Something more was troubling her daughter, something that wasn’t as visible as her limp but was every bit as disturbing.

Maybe what she and Wendy needed was the chance to spend some time together. Alone. Sort of a girls’ night out, the way they used to when Wendy was in high school. They hadn’t managed to have them often—not anywhere near often enough—because of Wendy’s grueling schedule. But every now and then they’d taken off together, just the two of them, for dinner somewhere special, and they’d talk and laugh and have fun.

A girls’ night out. Definitely. Gina picked up the phone and made reservations. She wasn’t going to give Wendy the chance to say no.

* * *

GINA HAD CHOSEN the restaurant with care. The food at the Purple Panda was delicious, the place itself was charming and it took more than forty minutes to drive there.

She wanted to have lots of time to chat with Wendy. There was something about riding through the night on dark country roads that tended to loosen a person’s tongue.

Wrong, she thought as they sped along the dark roads. Wendy hadn’t said more than half a dozen words during the entire trip. Gina kept up a one-sided conversation, babbling away about nothing in particular and getting back mostly “uh-huh” and “um-hmm” in response.

It was a relief when they finally reached Stockbridge and drove past the big, stately homes that lined both sides of the wide street, which narrowed as it approached the town green.

“Well,” Gina said brightly, “here we are.” She slipped the Volvo into a parking space. “I’m really looking forward to dinner tonight. You’ll love this place, and we can just sit back and relax. Everything’s been so, um, so rushed lately....”

“I can just imagine. Exams are coming up soon, right?”

A complete sentence, at last. But Gina had to stop and think. “Exams?” she said as they got out of the car. “Oh. Oh, you mean at school. Math quizzes and English essays. Right. My kids are all excited.”

Wendy made a face. “They’re terrified, Mom, not excited.”

“Of what? They’ll all do fine. If anybody’s terrified, it should be me.” She took Wendy’s arm as they stepped onto the sidewalk. “Careful. The street’s probably slippery.” The night was cold, the air crisp; a thin skim of frosty snow crackled under their boots. “When I think of the endless hours I’ll have to put in, marking all those tests...”

“I could help you with them.”

“Yes, you could.” Gina laughed. “You don’t really expect me to be polite and turn down such an offer, do you?”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about some kind of job.”

“A job? But—” You won’t be here long enough to hold down a job, Gina thought. Or was her luck turning? Had Wendy changed her mind about what she wanted?

“I know what you’re thinking. I won’t be here very long.” The Purple Panda was just ahead. The door was trimmed with tiny bells that tinkled merrily when Wendy pulled it open. “But Daddy mentioned that the people who own Twin Oaks—”

“Clint and Maureen,” Gina said as the door swung shut behind them.

“That’s it. He said they were thinking about finding someone to help out evenings.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, nothing very complicated.” Wendy peeled off her gloves and put them in her pockets. “Answer the phone, hang around the gathering room to serve coffee or tea or wine. They just got their liquor permit.”

“Well,” Gina said cautiously, “you might enjoy it. You know, getting out, meeting some people from out of town—”

“Meeting Rod Pommier, if I’m lucky.”

“Oh, Wendy.”

“Oh, Mother,” Wendy teased. “Come on, get that look off your face. Mmm, this place is handsome. When did it open?”

Gina knew when she was being taken on a detour. “Last summer,” she said, and sighed.

“And what’s that luscious smell?”

“Cloves. Maybe allspice.”

“Allspice. Isn’t that what you used to put into that incredible beef and beer thingy?”

Detoured and derailed, Gina thought, but that was okay if it meant getting Wendy to think about something other than whatever was making her look so

glum.

“It’s known as boeuf carbonade, if you please, my darling daughter.” Gina took Wendy’s hand as they eased through a knot of people toward the hostess. “After all these years of eating French cooking, you should know there’s a difference between a ‘beef thingy’ and something française. And no, that’s not allspice in carbonade, it’s thyme.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Wendy rolled her eyes. “You just like to remind people you’re a fancy cook.”

“Not me!” Gina laughed and turned to the hostess. “The name’s Monroe. I reserved a table for two.”

“Good evening, Ms. Monroe. Your table will be ready in just a few minutes. Would you like to wait at the bar?”

The bar was crowded, too, but they were lucky and snagged two high-backed stools. Gina ordered a glass of white wine. Wendy ordered merlot.

“Pretty place.” Wendy ran a finger lightly along the top of the bar. “Zinc. Reminds me of Paris.”

“The food will, too. Well, maybe not quite Paris, but it’s good. I convinced your father to come here once, right after it opened.” Gina smiled as the bartender put their glasses of wine in front of them. “Thanks. Where was I? Oh. That time I came here with your father. ‘This is it?’ he asked me when he opened the menu. ‘Soups, salads and homemade bread?’ I pointed out that some of the soups were more like stews, but he wasn’t fooled, not for a minute.”

Wendy grinned. “Not Daddy’s idea of a meal, huh?”

“He was a good sport about it, but as soon as we got home, he went into the kitchen and put together one of those sandwiches of his. Two slabs of rye bread, mustard, mayo—”

“—and whatever isn’t nailed down.” Wendy sipped her wine. “He still eats those things?”

“He does,” Gina said, continuing with their light, breezy chat, even as part of her looked on in delighted surprise. Maybe this girls’ night out hadn’t been such a bad idea. Wendy was smiling; she was animated. Driving here, Gina figured they’d sit through their meal in silence, but it looked as if the evening might turn into a success.

Idly, she twirled the stem of her wineglass in her fingers.

“Have I told you how lovely it is, having you home?”