Dancing With the Devil (2 page)

“Don't you want any pasketti, Kenzie?”

Mac looked at Lily and said, “Spa.”

As usual, Lily repeated, “Spa.”

“Get.”

“Get,” Lily said.

“Tee,” Mac finished. “Spa-get-tee.”

“Pasketti,” Lily said, and frowned.

“I found a new route back from my clients in Jersey today,” Stan said. “Completely avoided all the rush hour traffic. And guess what else I got today?”

“Bunions, from so much dance practice?” Mac responded without raising her eyes from her plate.

“I hate onions,” Lily said, wrinkling her nose. Mac couldn't help but smile at her sister. Barb burst out laughing.

Mackenzie pulled the ribbon on the case in her lap and out slid her chopsticks, satisfied to note her father's chiseled face pinch into a grimace. She retied the bow and placed the case back under her napkin. She then counted out thirty-two strands of pasta as she placed them in a neat pile on her plate and cut one meatball into perfect quarters.

“Um,” said Barb, wiping her mouth and putting her napkin down. “Isn't anyone going to ask me how
my
day was?”

Lily looked up at her mom. “Yes, Mama! I will! How was your day flying on the airplane two times? How far away is—is—what is that town called again, Mama?”

“Canada. It's a whole entire country, sweetheart.” Barb folded her arms and smiled. “I got the promotion!”

Lily clapped her hands and kneeled on the chair to kiss her mom. Then she burst into tears.

“Oh, sweetie, what's wrong? Aren't you happy Mama's got a big new job?” Barb said, comforting Lily.

“But you won't be here anymore! Who's gonna take care of me?”

“I won't travel much more than I do now. And I'll be home after school most days. Don't you remember you're going to help me decorate my home office?” Barb said. “I'll only go to Canada sometimes, and Kenzie will be here, and Daddy. You're going to be a big kindergarten girl next year, and go to school for the whole day!”

Stan mumbled a congratulations and something about how they could use more income to pay for the higher fees at the country club.

“Congrats, Barb,” Mac said. “When do you start?”

Barb nodded her head toward Lily and suggested they talk about something less dramatic for now.

Stan made a big deal of clearing his throat and said, “As I was trying to tell you before I was interrupted, I got a new name for my collection. There was a little salon in the town where I stopped for gas on my way back. And this one's a doozy: A Breath of Fresh Hair. I mean, I thought Shear Delight was bad, if only for the sappy factor. But A Breath of Fresh Hair has
got
to be the worst. I love it.”

Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “Whoever heard of collecting bad hair salon puns, anyway?”

Her father frowned. “How about everyone who is a member of Shairpuns.com, that's who,” he said.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Mac said. “Why don't you collect something normal, like stamps, or, hey, I know—better dance moves.”

He said, “I don't know what you have against practicing for the dance, honey. Unless you're jealous. But Lily and I are going to practice just as much as we did when it was your turn.” He took a swig of his beer, the foam collecting on his upper lip. He licked it off and gave Mac a look. “You loved it. You loved the fireworks, and the barbecue, and the whole thing.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,” Mac said. “I hated that dance, and you know why.”

Stan shook his head and sighed. “Oh, here we go.” He clenched his fist, then slowly spread his fingers out, his palm down on the table. “Like I've told you,
I
wasn't the one who lost your dress.”

“You're so silly, Kenzie,” Lily said in her best imitation of exasperation. “You can't hate the Father-Daughter Dance! Everyone in the whole wide world loves it!”

“Well, I don't, Lilybean. In fact, I totally hate the Fourth of July.”

Barb looked up from the meatball she was cutting with her fork. “Really? I mean, I know losing your dress was hard, but what's to hate about the Fourth of July?”

Mac shrugged. “I can only take so much fake rah-rah.”

Lily asked, “What's ‘fake rah-rah,' Kenzie?”

“I said,
I
wasn't the one who lost it,” Stan insisted.

“Yeah, right, Dad.”

“What is ‘fake rah-rah'?” Lily asked, louder now.

“Mackenzie,” her father said, putting down his fork and knife. “How many times do I have to say it? The housekeeper must have tossed it when she couldn't get the stains out. Guess you shouldn't have dropped your food in your lap. It's your own fault.”

Mac knew this argument never ended well, but Lily diverted attention before it went any further.

“RAH! RAH! RAH! RAH! RAH!” Lily hollered over everyone.

Mac glanced at Barb, who gave her a you're-the-one-who-brought-it-up look and kept at her meatball.

“Okay, Lil, okay! All I meant was that when everyone acts all patriotic the one day of the year it's because they're
supposed
to. Like, why not be that way all the time if you really mean it? If I wasn't forced to help decorate the stupid clubhouse every year I'd never set foot in there.”

Lily said, “But when you went to the dance, you were five, like me, right?”

Mac shrugged.

Lily looked from her sister to her father and said, “Tell me again the story about when Kenzie was little, Mama.”

“I bet you can tell it better than I can.”

Lily sat up straight and took a deep breath. She recited, “You and Daddy worked together and you were friends and he was married to another lady but she got sick and then she went to heaven, but you and Daddy were still friends for a long, long, long, long, long time and then you got married. The end.” Lily slumped back in her chair and panted in her best Academy Award dramatic actress way. “Oh wait!” she cried, sitting up straight again. “And you helped him sometimes with his little girl who was Kenzie and then you moved away and when you came back you saw a big girl in a store who you didn't know was Kenzie all growed up and when you turned around you saw Daddy and then you fell in love and got married and had me!”

Stan tousled Lily's hair. “Nice performance, Princess.”

Mac raised her eyebrows. “Ten or eleven isn't grown up, Lily.”

“You don't even remember your first Father-Daughter Dance?” Lily asked, her eyes wide. “I'm going to remember mine forever and ever.”

“All I remember is my dress.” Mac grabbed a broccoli tree. Her father rolled his eyes.

Unable to resist, Lily added, “What did your dress look like, Kenzie?”

Giving her father a pointed glare, Mac said, “It was red and white, I can tell you that much. And it was the last gift my mom ever gave me.”

Stan ignored her last comment. “Let's see, you must've just turned six, because you can't go unless you're about to start kindergarten.”

Barb smiled at Mackenzie. “Maybe you were too young to remember, but I can still see you all dressed up in your finery. Do you remember those dress rehearsals we had, and all the practice fixing your hair beforehand? You made me write out the instructions for your dad on exactly how to do it because I was moving the week before the dance.”

Mac looked at Barb. She didn't recall Barb ever taking care of her after her mom died, or fussing over her like that. “You fixed my hair?”

“Don't you remember, honey? You said you wanted curly hair like mine, and I groaned because I always hated my curls, and we both flopped over backwards onto the bed and laughed and laughed until we couldn't breathe. We went to the store and bought a curling iron and made tons of banana curls until you looked like Shirley Temple.”

Mackenzie was stunned silent. None of this sounded even remotely familiar.

“Of course,” Barb continued, “you had no idea who Shirley Temple was, so we rented a bunch of her old movies the next weekend. You don't remember this at all? We made popcorn and your dad got mad because we had just knocked the bowl over and got a grease stain on the sofa. Remember that?”

Mackenzie shook her head, more to rattle the memories loose than to answer. It didn't work.

Barb said, “Actually, I was going to go. I'd just gotten the job and figured I'd just move
after
the Fourth of July holiday.” She lowered her voice and, imitating her old boss, said, “We don't celebrate
America's
Independence Day. This is
Canada.
We work on July fourth up here, Barbara. And so will you.” She smiled. “There's something very satisfying about getting promoted into his old job. Thank goodness they opened the local office.”

Lily said, “How many dances have you been to, Kenzie?”

Before Mac could answer, Stan said, “That one was her first and her last. She refused to go again. All because of that stupid dress. And I doubt that was the last gift your mother gave you, by the way.” Stan looked at Mac and shook his head. “Women.”

Barb took a bite of a meatball, pointed her fork at Mac, and sighed. “Oh, that dress … those ruffled sleeves and big red polka dots. It was
so
sweet.”

“What kind of dress am I going to have, Mama?” Lily asked.

“We'll get you one as beautiful as your big sister's.” Turning to Stan, Barb asked, “You're sure you didn't store Mackenzie's somewhere at the beach house?”

Stan shrugged.

Barb said to Lily, “Well, maybe we can find one just like it.”

“Really?” Lily jumped off her seat and ran around the table to Mac. She slung her arms around her shoulders, nuzzling Mackenzie's cheek. She whispered, “I could be just like you, Kenzie.”

“You have it way better than me, Lilypie,” Mac whispered back. She gave her a squeeze and pointed her chin toward her own chair so she'd sit before Stan got angry.

After she settled in again, Lily asked, “Mama, when are we going to the dance? It's practically almost time, right?” She bounced in her chair, clicking her shoes together under the table.

“Don't worry, you'll get to the Cape in time for the dance, Lily.”

“When the fireworks are, right? And the band will play at the same time as the booms, and this year I get to stay up late and watch?”

“Right. The dance is on the Fourth of July.”

“Actually, I think it may be on the seventh, since Independence Day is that Wednesday,” Stan said.

Lily scrunched up her nose. “The Fourth of July is on the seventh?”

Barb explained, “Independence Day is celebrated on the fourth of July. But sometimes, if the fourth lands in the middle of the week, like this year, one town might have their parade the weekend before, and another might have their fireworks—”

“—or Father-Daughter Dance?”

“—or Father-Daughter Dance the weekend after. I sure hope I don't have to work,” Barb added. “If I can, maybe I'll take the whole week off so you and I can play together and shop around for a dress just like Mac's old one.”

“Kenzie, will you come and help me find my dress so I can wear it to my dance and be just like you?”

Mac looked at her sister sitting across from her. “Believe me, Brat, you do not want to be like me,” she said. “Anyway, that dance sucks, Lily. You'll hate it.”

“Mackenzie!” Barb wiped her mouth on her napkin and threw it on the table. “How could you say such a thing?”

“I'll handle this, Barbara,” Stan said, turning to his oldest daughter. “Let me assure you, you had a great time. As I recall, you even asked if you could take the music home. You were eating too fast and dropped everything in your lap. It was just a stupid piece of clothing when everything else was perfect, but if that's what you choose to remember, that is your own fault, not mine.” Stan started eating again, but looked up at Mac and added, “Now finish your dinner.”

“I'm done. I have homework to do.” Mackenzie cleared her place and went to her room.

As she finished the conclusion on her English paper, she heard her phone buzzing, and dug it out of her bag. She smiled when she saw the number. “Hi, Grady.”

“Hey, Mackenz.”

“When'd you get back from the meet?”

“Just now. We won. Tight competition, though. I wish you could've been there.”

“Me too,” Mac said, looking in the mirror. She flipped her hair over and brushed it from underneath. “Who was there?”

“You know. The usual swim fans,” Grady said. “You want to go somewhere?”

Mac stopped brushing and stood, flipping her hair back like a girl in a shampoo commercial. “Like where?”

“Why don't I pick you up, and we can go to the dam? Take the boat out for a little moonlight row?”

“Sure.” She looked in the mirror, turned sideways, and decided to leave her shirt untucked. “Lily's going to bed, so don't honk or anything. Just wait at the corner, okay?”

“Awesome. I can't wait to see you,” he said. His voice was low, like he was telling her a secret.

Mac's face burned.

“I'll be there in five.” They hung up, and after swishing some minty mouthwash, Mac sat at her vanity and slicked cherry gloss over her lips. Without warning, her door opened wide and banged against the wall. She saw her sister's reflection in the mirror.

“I've told you a million times, Lily.
Knock
before you come in here.”

She came in and leaned against Mac's arm and rested her head on her shoulder. “Kenzie, why can't I be just like you?” They looked at each other in the mirror.

Mac scrunched up her nose at her sister's reflection. Lily scrunched up her nose at Mac's reflection. Mackenzie stuck out her tongue. Lily did the same. Mac crossed her eyes. Lily tried to copy her but just looked up.