I stuck the nametag to my borrowed satin dress, hoping it wouldn’t mess up the material, and took a deep, calming breath, pushing away the horny thoughts.
Miss Lenny had whisked me and Delly down to thesalon to get ready after we completed the final touches on the rec room, and a cappuccino with a note had been waiting for me on the vanity alongside a potted purple plant.
Salt water is the cure for anything that ails you—be it the sea, your sweat, or your tears.
Wild indigo for my Indigo Girl.
P.S. Pops says we can grow more in the greenhouse.
P. P. S. I hope my cappuccino ban has finally been lifted? By my count, I owe you dozens
P. P. P. S. Save a dance for me?
-Adair
The cappuccino had been more than welcome and was helping me push through, as was the energy that was already mounting in this room.
Zinnia House had never been so vibrant, so full of life, as people milled around the rec room in their gowns, suits, or Sunday best. Soft piano covers of jazz standards filled the large room as I smoothed my dusky blue gown again, doing another sweep of the room for Adair. I hadn’t seen Dad or Pops yet, either, and I suspected that was where he was, doing whatever he could to get them here.
I hadn’t said it, but I’d bet the world that he knew how much it would mean to me for them to walk through those doors.
The official dancing would start in just a few minutes, and the rented dance floor was assembled and ready. Director Links had worked with us on the gala timeline, and after looking at med schedules, taking input from nurses, and considering travel time for out-of-towners, shedetermined that having the gala right before dinner would work.
I knew better than to question her wisdom.
Miss Lenny was holding court with most of the ballroom class near the dance floor, the excitement and nerves palpable as they cast furtive glances at it. I walked over to them, my heels nearly silent on the floor, and they all straightened when I joined their circle, conversation falling quiet.
“Perfect choice in that dress,” Miss Lenny said proudly. “One of my favorites from days gone by.”
The rest of the group murmured their agreement, and I gave them a small smile, which turned bigger when I caught sight of Miss Lenny’s nametag, which read:
Lenora C. Apworth
I swept my gaze over everyone, meeting each of their eyes. Miss Trish was sitting on the edge of the group, but I didn’t skip her even though she’d been boycotting my classes. Unless she moved away or…. yeah,moved, we would be co-existing for the foreseeable future. I didn’t want to encourage some unspoken feud, no matter her feelings about me.
“You’ve put in the work, which means you are all ready for this,” I told them. “You will dance beautifully. Each and every one of you. You should be proud. I know I am.”
There was a collective sigh, and I calmed right alongside them. This was a role I was comfortable in. They weren’t quite little dancers backstage in their first tutus before their first big recital, but nerves were nerves.
“Remember what I said at the end of our last class?”
“Swaying is still dancing,” they repeated in disjointed unison.
I nodded. “Swaying is still dancing. How it fills you inside is what matters.”
Miss Lenny fluffed her hair and then her skirts. “I am rightly inspired, and someone needs to warm up that dance floor,” she said matter-of-factly. “I suppose it falls to me, as most things do.”
Miss Lenny’s many sequins glimmered as she snatched Nurse Kelly from a nearby table and all but shoved him onto the dance floor.
Well, then.
Nurse Emily pushed a resident in a wheelchair up beside me, looking gorgeous in a pink satin gown, her tablet tucked under her arm and no fruit in sight. Everyone’s dance cards were loaded onto those tablets, so volunteers like Emily could help residents find their dance partners. With Liem’s help, I’d printed and bound memento dance card booklets, designed in a vintage style, with everyone’s glamor shots tucked into a protective sleeve on the front.
Ari had done her own project with the photos Cole had taken, replacing most of the stock wall art that hung in the cafeteria with the professionally printed shots.
“Hey.”
I turned toward the voice, jolting when Cole took a photo, anticipating a flash. I frowned when there wasn’t one, and he took another.
