Been In Love Before: A Novel (9 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Slightly after five p.m., the three Macgregor brothers walked into the Cassini dance studio. It was a huge ballroom with high ceilings, and tables scattered around the outside of the dance floor. The dance hall was filled with instructors and students practicing. Each group was dancing different dances to diverse music, but all of it made a beautiful sound together.

Their instructor was there waiting for them. She was dressed in a leotard dance outfit and was looking at her watch, impatiently tapping her foot. She was tall, with dark hair and penetrating eyes. A gold pendant hung from her neck and was draped just above her chest. She was built like a dancer: tall and firm, with the form-fitting dance outfit she was wearing accentuating her curves. Her long black hair was tied tight into a bun high above her head, and her dark-brown eyes sparkled as they approached her.

“Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Alexi Cassini. My mother was French and my father was from Argentina, and they were both world-champion dancers. I have won three Grand Sport International Dance Championships in Latin, Smooth, and Ballroom, both here and overseas. They are the most prestigious awards anyone can attain in dancing. So, having said that, I’m your instructor for these dance sessions. We have a lot of work to do.”

Eian coughed to make himself noticed.

She glanced in his direction and turned away, taking in a deep breath, looking annoyed. “Gentlemen, I take my work here very seriously, and I would appreciate your full attention and cooperation . . . and I would also ask that for all of your future lessons that you arrive on time, if not fifteen minutes early. So we can start on time. I have specific directions from Ms. Macgregor to teach you to dance some specific steps for her wedding, and I do not plan to let her down.”

“She sounds like Mary Kate,” Eian chuckled to a disinterested Ryan.

“Who here has danced before?”

They all reluctantly raised their hands.

“Good. I only have you for a few sessions, so we must be very diligent in our lessons. I see we are going to be learning different dances, the foxtrot and the waltz. I’m going to put you into two different groups. Which of you are Eian . . . and Robert?”

The two brothers raised their hands.

“Follow me, please. You are going to be taught the foxtrot by one of my associates, Trudy Gonzales.” She motioned for another woman to join them and then introduced her to the two brothers before returning her attention to Ryan.

“So you’re Ryan Macgregor, the father of the bride?”

“Yes.”

“Your daughter wants me to teach you the waltz?”

“Yes.”

“You have danced before?”

“Yes, frequently, when my wife was alive.”

“The waltz?”

“Yes.”

“So, Ryan, this is more of a refresher for you, correct?”

“Yes.”

She liked him from the very first moment—his quiet, shy, but confident manner. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

He didn’t say anything at first, then slowly raised his gaze, and their eyes met. “It’s just that . . . in twenty years I’ve never danced with anyone other than my wife. It’s going to feel a little awkward.”

She stood there looking at him, uncomfortable, not sure if she should embrace him to try to take away the pain he was feeling . . . or try to make him laugh.

“I understand. But let’s at least try . . . for your daughter’s sake. We’ll take it slow. I promise. Just one step at a time.” She turned on the music, “The Last Waltz.”
Maybe not a good choice,
she thought as it began to play.

She apologized, watching him. “I’m sorry. Maybe this is not the right song to play, considering everything.”

“It’s fine,” he said in a low voice.

She watched him closely.
What the hell is going on here?
she asked herself.
Strange.
She had not felt this way in a long time.

“Ready?” They began to glide across the dance floor as she whispered the count to keep him in step, “One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three. Very good. Now turn me, slowly.” He spun her out smoothly, then back again to her original spot. “Good.” He held her at a distance from him all the while they danced.

“Don’t be afraid of me . . . I won’t bite, I promise. And I won’t break,” she said.

He smiled at her attempt to put him at ease.

“Let’s try again. Firm hold, my hand in yours. Now put your right hand on my shoulder blade. Very good. Remember now, walk softly on your toes, with a slight rise and fall of your body, and then begin slowly to turn.” She could feel him as he touched her and held her. His grip was gentle but firm. He began to relax; he had always enjoyed dancing with Grace.

He began to move to the rhythm of the music, and as he got more comfortable, he slowly pulled her closer to him. He was a firm leader, directing her with his hand on her back. She liked this; it was something she could never teach anyone. It was instinctive, and he did it very well. That night the two of them danced as one, close together; he held her in his arms, and he forgot about the world surrounding them. He spun her out in front of him and pulled her back to him.

As he pulled her closer, she began to feel something turning in her soul. A yearning. She was a professional, and he was her student. She pulled away and swallowed deeply. “Good, very good. It’s obvious you’ve done this before,” she said, nearly out of breath. She walked to the table and took a long drink of water.

“Okay, now where were we? Waltz? Right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

He watched her. She was beautiful and so talented. She was like an angel in his arms, so light, like his Gracie.

“Let’s try a different move, called the butterfly. We dance just like before, and then we open up parallel to each other, shoulder to shoulder. I step to one side of you and we open up, looking just like a butterfly. Then we repeat it from side to side. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” He was not normally so lacking words, but around her he just could not get them out of his mouth. “Okay.”
Wow, two words together. Pretty soon I’ll be able to say a whole sentence to her. Great, Ryan. Put a beautiful lady in your arms and you become all tongue-tied.
Then he saw a wedding ring on her finger.

“Good job,” she said as they did five butterflies in a row.

Walking back to where they had started, he asked, “Does your husband also teach dancing?”

“No,” she said abruptly, and then she softened, adding, “He died in an auto accident four years ago.”

“My Gracie died the same way, auto accident, hit-and-run—eighteen months ago.” He paused, then asked, “And you never remarried?”

“No,” she said and then, changing the subject, she added, “Now we’re going to end our lesson with a dip. It’s customary, at the end of the father-and-daughter dance routine, to end with a dip move. Let me show you.”

She pulled him close, holding on tight, and they danced a box step before she spun close. He held her tight as they dipped. His face was only inches from hers, and their lips were nearly touching. They both swallowed hard. Inches away, he could not take his eyes off her.
What the hell is going on here? Does she want me to kiss her? No, idiot, she’s a dance instructor, and she just showed you a dance move. Get over it. You’re not sixteen anymore, far from it. Maybe she wants me to . . . 
He continued to hold her in his arms in that dip position. His lips moved closer to hers, and he closed his eyes.

“Okay, lover boy, dance lesson’s over,” he heard Eian say behind them.

They stood and he said a self-conscious good-bye. As they reached the door, she said, “Oh, Mr. Macgregor . . . Ryan, when did you want to schedule your next lesson?”

“I’ll call you and let you know if I need another one.”

“Okay,” she said, her disappointment obvious in her voice, before she made her way back to her office, closing the door behind her.

“What the hell was that all about?” asked Eian as they walked to the parking lot.

“What?”

“You know what. Here you have a gorgeous woman in your arms, ready to ravish her, she asks you to call her, but instead you say, ‘I’ll have to think about it.’”

“I didn’t say that . . . did I?”

“Just about. I think it was more like, ‘I’ll call you and let you know if I need another lesson.’ Are you nuts?” asked Robert. “You must be nuts, because, man, she’s beautiful.”

“No. It’s just . . . all of a sudden when we finished our lesson and I was there . . . holding her . . . so close, I felt . . . guilty.” He paused and took in a deep breath. “Like I was cheating on Gracie or something,” he whispered.

Robert leaned over to him to say, “Bro, Gracie’s gone, and she would want you to get on with your life. Trust me. Just like you would want her to move on.”

“I don’t know and . . . I don’t care. But I think I’m finished with my dance lessons,” Ryan said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah?” Eian said in disbelief. “And you’re going to tell Mary Kate that? ‘Oh, I’m done with dance lessons, my dear.’ Really?”

“I’ll tell her . . . later.”

As they reached their cars, Robert said, “I must tell you that Alexi is a beautiful woman, and I think she may just have an eye for you. However, if you’re not interested, I’m sure there are plenty of other guys out there who would be, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, she’ll just have to—” he began, but Robert interrupted him.

“Ryan, your only daughter is getting married and has asked you to do one thing—learn some dance steps to be able to dance the waltz with her on her wedding day. That’s the least you can do for her.”

“I’m not sure if . . .”

Robert’s voice rose as he continued, ignoring his brother’s comments, “Yes, you’ll finish your lessons, that I am sure of. Aye?” As the elder in the clan, he turned his dark gaze toward his younger brother.

“I don’t care. I think I’ll . . .” Ryan’s voice trailed off. It sounded hollow because deep down inside he really did care. Feelings that he had thought were gone had now risen to the surface in just the short time he had held Alexi in his arms and danced around the floor holding her. He had felt so alive dancing with her. He kept thinking about her and could not get her out of his mind. Her easy laugh, her engaging smile—he had not felt this way since . . . Grace.
What the hell am I going to do now? Go home and have a drink with my brothers. Yeah. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.

Chapter Eighteen

“Gloria, I don’t know any more information than you do. I’m sorry, but we still have to have a place setting for Mickey’s mom and dad. Mickey said his parents may have to go out of the country on business, but they’re trying to rearrange things since we decided to get married so quickly.”

Mary Kate’s wedding planner interjected, “Has Mickey spoken with them? Or have you?”

“Mickey speaks to him all the time. He works for his dad at the company, remember?”

“What about after your announcement?”

“They called once to congratulate us after our engagement announcement, but I have not heard from them since then. His mom’s very nice, but his dad is hard to figure out. It’s kind of strange. Just leave a seat for both of them and we’ll figure out something.” On Sunday Mickey had promised he would have an answer for her by Monday. Today was Wednesday. He had promised, but still no answer.

She glanced at her watch; she had been on the phone for more than forty-five minutes again. She didn’t have this kind of time to spare at work for her wedding details.

A knock at the door caused her to look up. It was Alison.

“Come on, Mary Kate, we’re going to be late for the meeting,” said her close friend and bridesmaid, who was helping her pack up her things for the weekly Wednesday meeting with the senior partners.

She rushed her wedding planner off the phone. “Gloria, I gotta go. Call me tonight if you need me.”

Her coworker looked at her while grabbing her files. “Come on, MK, hurry. We don’t want to be late.” The two of them nearly ran down the hallway, entering the conference room precisely at nine a.m. “Sorry, Mr. Block, sir.”

From the look on his face, she could tell he was agitated. Tall, distinguished, impeccably dressed, with perfectly groomed white hair, Irwin “Sonny” Block had a reputation for honesty, trustworthiness, and hard work in South Florida. In fact, he was one of the most esteemed attorneys in the region.

“Ladies . . . ,” he began while he stood, looking even taller than his actual six foot five. “Grab some coffee and a bagel before we begin.” He was good to his staff, to all of them. He had been the first attorney in Florida to hire female attorneys, and treated all staff equally, both men and women. The female attorneys with the firm affectionately called him Poppa behind closed doors but never to his face. They could tell him or ask him anything.

Mary Kate sat down quickly and opened her portfolio on the conference table. There were eight male and six female attorneys, and they all worked long and hard hours. They were expected to carry a full workload and still perform public service for the community. For their reward they were well paid and highly recruited. There were more alumni of the Block & Sawyer law firm on the Florida courts than of any other law firm in the state of Florida. It was a good firm to work for—actually, the best.

“Who wants to start?” asked Sonny to start the meeting.

Each attorney presented their casework for input from the other attorneys, and the status of any pro bono work they were involved in for the firm. One by one they briefed their fellow associates, so should anyone need to fill in, they would be familiar with the case.

Mary Kate made a note at the top of her legal pad. Calley Terrell? She had never heard back from her. Was she okay? Was she still staying at the hotel? Calley was supposed to call her.

When it was her turn, she briefed the group on the status of her cases and her pro bono work. Regarding Calley she gave a brief explanation, and moved on to her next case.

As they filed out of the conference room, Sonny asked her to stay behind so they could talk. “Mary Kate, I know you have a wedding to plan and there’s a lot of pressure on you. But please don’t forget there are many people out there who are depending on the work you do here. Like Calley Terrell, for instance. I strongly suggest you check into where she is. Is she all right, and what are the next steps? Did she go back home to him? Just because it’s pro bono work doesn’t mean that we take it any less serious. Do you get my point?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’ll be all. Back to work . . . and Ms. Macgregor . . . next time, if you’re not fifteen minutes early for a conference—you’re late. It’s disrespectful to everyone in the meeting. Their time is valuable too.” No lectures. No yelling. No screaming. No admonishments, just the facts. He turned and walked toward his office. Not another word was ever said. Tough but fair. Out of respect to him, she made a mental note never to be late for one of his meetings again.

Once back at her office, she called the Delray Dunes and spoke to the manager, Robin.

“Hey, Robin, this is Kate Macgregor. Howya doin’?”

“Good, Ms. Macgregor. I want to thank you again for getting me this job. It’s been a lifesaver, in more ways than one.”

“No problem. I’m just calling to check in on one of my new clients I sent over to you, Calley Terrell?”

“You know, that’s funny, she called about getting a room here until she got situated somewhere, but she never showed up. I was just about ready to call you about her. Anything wrong?”

“I’m not sure. Tell you what, call me if she checks in or if you hear from her, and ask her to call me.” The concern was now obvious in her voice. She called Calley’s cell-phone number. No answer. Then she called some of the friends Calley had listed on her contact sheet, but nobody else had seen her. A chill went down her back as she recalled the fear in Calley’s voice when she mentioned the name of her husband, Phil. She did not feel good about this.

She glanced at her watch, then tried to call Mickey, but got his voice mail. When she finally looked up from the piles of paperwork on her desk, she saw it was nearly nine p.m. and the office was deserted.
Give it a break, girl. Time to go home.

Mary Kate grabbed her briefcase and thought about soaking in a warm bath with a glass of chilled chardonnay once she was home. Just the thing after a long day at work, but she still had many phone calls to make tonight.

She pressed the button for the elevator. Damn—it wasn’t working again, off for the evening. She took the stairs, and the motion detector slowly turned on the blinking fluorescent lights to help guide her way. It was only three flights down. At each landing the light came on to greet her.
Where’s Calley? Why hasn’t she called me? Does she have my home number? Why hasn’t she called me to let me know what’s happening?
She had calls to make, then a nice hot bath and a glass of chardonnay.
Yes.
All these thoughts ran through her head as she made her way down the steps. The bottom landing light did not go on as she slowed her descent into the darkness, feeling her way along the wall and the railing.

A hand grabbed her in the dark, and she felt the cold steel of a knife blade pressed against the right side of her throat as the other hand grabbed her around her waist. She was about to scream, but a man’s gruff voice said, “Shut up and don’t scream, you hear me?” She was petrified.

“Y-y-you lawyers are all th-th-the same,” he stammered. His breath was foul; it reeked of stale cigarettes and booze. His clothes smelled of gasoline and diesel fuel. “I’m only going to tell you this o-o-once—you stay away from mmmy Calley. Just st-st-stay away, you hear me? Don’t be filling her head with some strange notion that she can l-l-leave me. She’ll never leave me, at least not alive.”

His hand shifted from her waist and moved up to grab her and hold her tighter. “Nice,” he said cruelly as his hand searched her body. “Real nice. Come here, girlie-girl.” He removed the knife from her neck and began to turn her around to face him while his other hand kept exploring. She turned to face him in the dark, not seeing his face but only his outline in the shadows.

Mary Kate remained calm and then struck back with a vengeance, shoving his nose upward with the heel of her hand, then kneeing him in the groin. Surprised, he screamed in a high-pitched pained voice, cursing her.

She pushed open the exit door and ran. She ran as she had never run before and thanked her father for those self-defense courses she had taken. She kept running, and when she reached her car, her hand was shaking so violently she could not put the key in the ignition.
Calm down, girl. You’re all right.
Finally it worked, and she stepped on the gas pedal and raced home, calling 911 from the car as her hand shook with a nervous tremor.
Calm down, girl,
she told herself. She had to report what had happened to her and then she had to find Calley. He was gone—
but what about Calley
?

When she returned to her apartment, the police met her there and took her report. Mickey called, and when she told him what had happened, she could hear the anger in his voice. He said he was on his way. She was comforted by the thought of him and felt safer. Then the phone rang again. It was Sonny.

“Are you okay?” he asked her in a concerned way. “The night watchman found your briefcase in the stairwell and called me.” It was past ten o’clock. “Is everything all right?” he asked with genuine worry in his voice.

After she told him what had happened, he said, “Maybe you should go to the hospital or call your family physician?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“Do you want Doris to come over? It’s no problem, really. We would both feel better if she did. Please?” Doris had worked as a nurse for many years before becoming his personal assistant.

“No, my fiancé is on his way. And I called 911 and just met with the police. But thanks, Sonny. Thanks for caring.”

“Call me if you need anything, anything at all.”

She lay there on her bed, the room silent. Gone were the thoughts of a warm bath and a cool glass of chardonnay. Instead, she retreated into a darkened corner and stripped off her clothes to rid herself of the lingering gasoline smell. She sat shivering, naked, with a blanket wrapped around her, and waited for Mickey. But the longer she sat in the dark, the angrier she became. Angry with herself—how could she have let her guard down? Angry he had gotten away with it, degrading her, violating her privacy. Fury rose inside her. That would never happen again—never.

She stood and dropped the blanket to the floor. She grabbed the clothes she had worn that day and frantically began to shred them with a pair of scissors. Piece by piece she sliced and cut, feeling liberated with every slash. Soon a pile of rags lay at her feet. Then she began to plan.
Tomorrow is the first day of a new life.
Calley had come to her for help; she trusted her. Tomorrow she would find Calley.