When the Music Stops (16 page)

They shook their heads. “If you love it, we love it too. Would you dance it for us?” Trixie said.

Marta half-expected this request. Her butterflies began doing flips instead of flutters as she stood, put on a filmy skirt, and started the music. “This is my version for you. Let me know what you think.”

Time and place evaporated as Marta moved into the music. She executed the exaggerated
developés
that matched the elongated clarinet slide at the beginning of the selection. She recreated the sweeping steps that led into the
adagio
, followed by graceful steps as she gathered up the hem of her long skirt.

For the ladies she simplified the
relevés
by substituting
balancés
and
arabasques
. Lifting to the balls of their feet then stepping into turns would be too complex; swaying side to side followed by graceful poses on one leg would provide enough motion and interpretation.

As she stopped dancing and curtsied, the ladies clapped.

“Brava, Marta,” Irene said. “That was beautiful. Is it even possible for us to dance like you just did?”

“Absolutely! So stand up and let’s get busy.” Marta reached for the chiffon skirts she’d made. “Slip on a skirt to help you get into the mood. It’s almost too light to feel, but it will change the way you move.”

Marta demonstrated. “Think waltzing. I want you to circle the room moving your entire body. Let your arms and head float. Don’t worry about what steps we might do later. Move your feet any way you wish.”

Marta watched them and made mental notes on how she’d adjust the choreography she’d planned. It didn’t appear she’d need to change much to meet their current skills.

After several repetitions, Marta stopped the
Rhapsody
music and led the class in a cool down. She relaxed, noting how the time had flown. Next time she’d begin teaching the dance movements one by one.

As the women packed up to leave, Lily Rose called across the room, “Marta, would you like to join us for lunch? We thought we’d go home, shower, and head to the country club. We’d love you to join us, our treat.”

Should she go? Did they ask her because they thought they needed to include her? She wanted friends to talk with; these women could provide a starting place. They accepted her as their teacher; potentially being their friend as well was reassuring.

“I’d love to come, thank you.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up in one hour. Give me your home address.”

Marta froze. These women lived on Pill Hill. Their husbands were professionals with lots of money and expensive homes. They’d be fun to get to know and she wanted to go, but should she cancel now and save herself the embarrassment of having them see the tiny old house where she lived and the out of style clothes she wore?

“How about I meet you here in one hour?” Marta said.

h

Marta drove home, showered, and returned to the studio wearing a plain rose-colored sheath under her gray winter coat. October was mild this year, but her other coat was a plaid car coat and totally inappropriate for a country club lunch.

The Kitsap County Country Club restaurant occupied the edge of a woodsy glen. The dining room overlooked the eighteenth hole. Golfers finished their games and stepped inside for a drink or a meal.

When the ladies arrived, a hostess directed them to a table next to the front window and handed them menus. “Nice to see you ladies again. May I get you something to drink before I take your lunch orders?”

The Pill Hill women ordered wine; Marta ordered iced tea.

Trixie looked up. “Don’t you want a glass of wine, Marta?”

She shook her head. When the hostess left she whispered, “Can’t. I’m only eighteen.”

“What?” Frann said. “You’re that young? My sister is older than you.”

Lily Rose set her menu aside. “Tell us about your family.”

“It’s just my mom and me,” Marta said. “My dad died years ago.”

Irene shook her head. “That’s tough. Same with my mother. Your mom is still alone?”

“Yes, but she might get engaged this Christmas.”

“You must have a boyfriend,” Irene said. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Marta felt her face heat up. “His name is Steve. He lives in Montana, works for his dad’s newspaper. He’ll graduate from college in December.”

Trixie clapped her hands together. “Oh, a college guy. Best watch out for him. College men are so full of themselves.”

“Don’t say that,” Frann said. “Her Steve is probably one of the good guys. You’ll need to bring him around so we can check him out.”

“Not if she’s smart, she won’t,” Lily Rose said. “We’d scare the poor guy off.”

“Before Steve you probably had a string of guys waiting for you at the stage door or lurking off stage,” Trixie said.

“No, Trixie,” said Frann. “That only happens in the movies. But what about now? Does Steve have any competition?”

“Keeping things going across two states and two mountain ranges makes it difficult,” Marta said, “but we’re still okay.”

“Sounds like the door is open,” Lily Rose said as she took a sip of her burgundy. “Steve had better get his foot in that door before it closes.”

“Yes, but if the spark is there, it will last,” Trixie said.

Marta smiled. She hoped being with Steve and talking things out would rekindle the flame they’d shared when they saw each other almost daily back in Billings. As the time to see him drew closer and closer, her resolve to figure out their relationship grew stronger, especially in light of her discovery about Dennis.

The waiter arrived with their seafood salads. Conversation raced around the table as they ate, laughed, and talked about their exercise class with Marta.

“I like learning different ballroom steps,” Lily Rose said. “Would you consider teaching our husbands a couple of evenings a week so we can dance with real people? I’d rather pay you than Arthur Murray.”

“I’ll talk with Lindsay,” Marta said, “and let you know at our next class. Are you sure they’ll come?”

“Oh they’ll come,” Trixie said as she pointed her salad fork toward Marta, “if they want happy wives.”

h

That evening Marta set the kitchen table anticipating three for dinner. Her thoughts drifted back to lunch. The Pill Hill women oozed energy and confidence. It must be nice knowing you have enough spending money to take dance classes, go to the country club, and enjoy relaxed afternoons with friends. Some day she hoped to have time to gather a group of friends together to talk and share a meal. Until then she’d continue teaching classes while working to build up her ankle strength. No sense in closing any doors just yet.

Marta wondered how she’d find friends with similar interests. Since she’d been away in Billings, she’d lost what few contacts she’d had in high school. Without a club or a group to belong to, it appeared today represented a first move away from being a loner. Too bad Lynne was so far away; she missed her brash, funny friend. Too bad Bartley had died. Oh, Bartley; she missed her so much.

Her mom had a small cadre of friends, mostly because of Robert. Where did she find time to be social? Marta’s relationship with her mom had noticeably shifted since she’d left thirteen months ago. They loved each other, but using the upstairs dance studio rooms as her own space felt more comfortable than the time she spent at home. Robert naturally took a lot of her mother’s time. One thing was certain: Marta needed to find her own place. She hoped that place would be the little house on Corbett Drive.

9

I
n mid-November Marta created a to-do list as the Holland Dance Studio shifted into preparation mode for winter programs at the local hospitals, service groups, and community events. The
Nutcracker
remained as popular here as in most small towns and cities across the country. Thank heavens orchestrating the nightmare of a dozen winter program commitments belonged to Lindsay and her mother. Marta’s only responsibility centered on recording the performance music onto the tape recorder, helping Paige and Rosalia perfect their solos, and moving to Corbett Drive. On the fifth of December, she’d take the train to attend Steve’s graduation, stay to watch Lynne in the
Nutcracker,
then return home in plenty of time to assist with the last few Christmas shows. Any more jobs and she’d need to take diet pills every day, not just when she needed a last minute boost in energy.

Diet pills. Why didn’t she toss them? She didn’t need them, did she? Lately her dancing and working with students boosted her energy naturally. As soon as the hectic season ended, she’d quit the pills and focus on building her energy through hard work.

Marta sat with Lindsay as she opened the small case that held the tape recording equipment. “It’s really quite easy to transfer the dance selections from our long play records onto the reel of tape,” Lindsay said. “Just be careful to avoid the red erase button.” She connected the record player to the tape machine. “Be absolutely certain both ends of the plug are completely pushed in. Otherwise, you’ll get messed up. I’ve had to re-record dances many times. It’s no fun.

“Here’s the order of the most popular program we dance. Once you have the reel fed through the tape head and connected to the blank reel, set the counter on zero. Record the start time, then push record. When the music ends, stop the recording and write down the ending time. Leave ten seconds between each selection. Any questions?”

Marta shook her head.

“Here’s the order. Start with “Jingle Bells”. I’ll walk you through the first selection.”

Marta watched the process, listened to the music, and wrote down the recording information. Lindsay sat with her as she organized the second tape recording, then left Marta to handle the task on her own.

Two hours later, Lindsay returned to listen to the replay of the recording. “Wow! You’ve done a great job. But, you know what? I’m feeling queasy. I think I have the flu or ate something that didn’t agree with me. I’m heading home. Record program B the same way. Program C recordings are the solos for Rosalia and Paige. We can listen to everything tomorrow.” Lindsay waved and rushed to the bathroom.

As Marta worked on tapings, she drifted into thinking about her performances last year and sharing her dancing with Steve. Not long until she’d enjoy his banter as well as spend time alone with him.

As she refocused on the tapings, she stared at the machine. She’d forgotten to reset the counter. She went back, listened to each piece of music, wrote down start and end times, labeled the tapes, and set them on the shelf. How did Lindsay and her mom manage to accomplish all of this with everything else they handled? She’d need to remember to thank them for making the chores at the dance studio appear effortless.

During their extra classes Rosalia and Paige polished their solos. The
Nutcracker
and popular holiday melodies provided entertaining music for service clubs and hospital visits. Rosalia danced to Tchaikovsky’s “Sugar Plum Fairy” and “Winter Wonderland,” while Paige danced to Tchaikovsky’s “Dance of the Flutes” and “Frosty the Snowman.”
They partnered for “Waltz of the Flowers” creating a memorable finale as well as showcasing their skills as advanced Holland Dance Studio students.

Marta helped the girls refine their movements. “You’ll begin with the Tchaikovsky and end with the popular holiday songs. Think of the composer’s intent as you dance. What is the mood? Does the music suggest tiny flicks of your wrists or sweeping moves? Should your face look serious or playful? Each selection needs to show a different view of your dancing. Any questions?”

“May we borrow the tape recorder to use when we dance at school or for friends and family?” Rosalia said as she packed up her belongings to head home.

“Unfortunately, no,” Marta said. “The tape recorder cost around two hundred dollars, so we can’t lend it out. We need it for the winter performances. I suggest you use a record, or, if you have a portable tape recorder, bring in a tape and we’ll record the music for you.”

“But we can borrow the costumes from storage, right?” Paige asked.

“Of course. Come on, let’s see which ones you might want to borrow. Rosalia, do you want to borrow costumes?”

Rosalia shook her head. “Mom’s buying me my own costumes. She doesn’t want me wearing hand-me-downs. But may I borrow a tiara?”

“No problem.” Marta smiled. “Let’s get it now to make certain it looks good as new.”

The girls looked through everything in the meager closet. They held up costumes and tried on tiaras and a variety of hats and capes until Zandora arrived and whisked Rosalia home.

“Thanks for loaning me the costumes,” Paige said. “Where did Miss Holland get them?”

“A friend of hers found them at an auction. They were in great condition and only needed to be cleaned and minor repairs made. Don’t tell anyone, but the rumor is that a famous ballerina once wore these for her performances in South America.”

Paige’s eyes widened. “Really? Do you know who she was?”