Escapade (9781301744510) by Susan Carroll Page A

frame structure, the
light and laughter spilling through its open windows on the second
floor. Zeke squared his shoulders like a prizefighter about to
enter the ring.
    He turned to help Rory down, only to discover
she had already leaped from the steps herself and stood at his
side. He wanted to tell her that maybe this wasn't such a good idea
after all. But the lamplight haloed the radiant contours of her
face, her eyes so bright and eager. He hated the thought of
disappointing her. It had been a long time since he had wanted so
badly to please anyone as he did this whimsical girl. He already
felt bad that he hadn't been able to gratify her wish of attending
the theater.
    Most of the plays on Broadway were well into
their third act by now. He had thought of buying out one of the
theaters, hiring the actors to start the show all over again, but
he supposed that too would be showing off. The theater would have
to wait for another night, but for now at least he could give her
her dance.
    Inhaling a deep breath, he offered her his
arm. "I probably should have warned you. It's been a long time
since I did any dancing. I'm likely pretty rusty."
    "That's all right," she confided in a stage
whisper. "I'm not so very good at it either."
    The night breeze tickled the curls alongside
her flushed cheeks. She was a little tipsy from the wine at
Delmonico's. If he had any conscience at all, he would take her
home right now, but the thought of doing so caused him to feel
strangely empty.
    Instead he tucked her arm through his,
tightening his grasp as though she was some wayward Cinderella who
might disappear at the stroke of twelve. He led her beneath the
striped awning and into the dance hall. The restaurant on the lower
floor was already closed up, the waiters upending chairs upon
tables. But up on the second floor the sound of thumping feet could
be heard, a band blaring out a polka.
    As Zeke ascended the stairs with Rory in tow,
he wasn't prepared for the wave of nostalgia that washed over him.
Stepping across the threshold, he felt he could have closed his
eyes and still mapped out that room. He'd been in dozens like it
before with its bare-board floor, a little bar tucked at one end,
the platform for the band. No, they weren't exactly Landers
orchestra, but they could belt out a tune that set Rory's toe to
tapping.
    Beyond the couples prancing across the floor,
making the rafters shake, were a group of young lads lined up along
the wall, trying to look smart in their straw hats, their slickly
shined shoes, their best coats cleaned and pressed. Zeke had held
up the wall in that same fashion himself once, ogling the pretty
girls, casting contemptuous glances at the swells in the black
tailcoats who sometimes came downtown to see how the lower orders
went on.
    Only now, he was one of the stiff-necked
swells and the scornful glances were for him.
    "Zeke?" Rory cut into his reflections.
"Hadn't we better dance before we get trampled?"
    With a start, he realized he had led her out
so far they were interfering with the dancers.
    "Yes, I'd guess we'd better," he agreed with
a laugh, clasping her hand, placing his other at her waist. As they
circled the room, Zeke felt awkward, even though some of the
movements were coming back to him.
    As for Rory, she was poker stiff in his arms.
It amused him to note her intense look of concentration as she
counted out the steps. Amused him and opened the floodgates of
another memory as well, a rainy afternoon in the sitting room of
the old apartment on Pearl Street.
    All gangly arms and legs, he had been trying
to master the polka under the tutelage of his youngest adopted
sister, Agnes. So sweet, so patient, lisping out the count in her
childish treble while the eldest sister, Caddie, plunked out the
song on the old piano, badly out of tune.
    The middle sister, Theresa, had been
reclining on the sofa, critical as always. "Ha. You'll never get
the hang of it, Johnnie. You've got two left feet."
    But Sadie