Dolly All the Time(73)

“This is fun,” he says, and pulls me closer. “Why haven’t we danced before?”

“We’ve been busy,” I say.

“Terribly busy.” He smiles at me. “When we get back to Boston, let’s figure out where people dance. Or maybe we could just do this in your kitchen.”

“I love you in my kitchen,” I say. I hear it as soon as the words are out and rest my head on his shoulder to regroup. I meant I love being with you in my kitchen, but it sounded like I love you. I know I mean both.

Stewart pulls away and raises my chin with a finger so our eyes meet. “I love you in your kitchen too,” he says.

I laugh as he pulls me tighter. We’ve said it without saying it.

Toward the end of the song Stewart’s body changes. I know his heartbeat and the way his shoulders feel, both when tense and relaxed. He’s gone tense.

I look up at him and he’s staring over my shoulder. “What?” I ask, turning around. He’s staring at Grant, who’s standing on the edge of the dance floor, arms crossed and smug. Henry is pushing through the crowd to get to us. Busy is following him, talking. Time slows, just a little bit, and there is a palpable energy shift. Something horrible has happened, and my first thought is that it’s Christopher. All my instincts are screaming red alert. This was too much, too many people. What have I done?

Henry stops in front of us, fuming. He’s a bit out of breath and is too agitated for his happy yellow seersucker suit.

“What’s happening?” Stewart asks Busy. They lock eyes like people who have been navigating the same terrain forever.

“This is just unbelievable,” Henry says. “You. With a contract. And a call girl.” What have I done?

There’s a swarm of bees in my head. I don’t totally understand what’s happening, but I do know that this is the moment I’ll remember. This is where it’s all coming apart. I look down at the dance floor and catch sight of my gold shoes, a perfect match to my bag. Underneath all of this, I am just Dolly. But Stewart loves me, I remind myself. He would change the world for me.

Stewart steps toward his dad, away from me. “What? Did Grant tell you this?”

“Is it true?” Henry asks, as Grant makes his way toward us, so self-satisfied under his rich-guy hair.

Stewart doesn’t look at me. “Obviously she’s not a call girl. I can explain this. And I was doing it for the company. Grant doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Grant pulls a folded stack of papers from inside his jacket. “Kinda think I do, Stewart. Funny that the combination to your briefcase is the same as Granddad’s. I love the psychic connection, very sweet.”

People are quiet around us, listening. I’m waiting for Stewart to turn to me to see if I’m okay. I’m waiting for him to meet my eyes so that I know this is a thing we’re going to get through together. But he doesn’t.

“Why were you in my briefcase?” Stewart asks.

“Dolly’s weird brother and I had a talk. About you two and a new roof on the house, and I got to wondering if money had changed hands. I mean, she’s not exactly your type.”

“He’s not weird,” I say, in a voice much stronger than I would have thought myself capable of right now. Soon Stewart is going to step up and defend us.

Henry shoots Grant a look. “I think, once again, you’re missing the important part. Why was there a contract to begin with? And the way you two have been carrying on. Grant’s no saint, but you’re the one whose judgment is in question.”

“Grant is such an asshole,” Busy says, to fill the space.

Stewart doesn’t say any of the things I want him to say. That he’s in love with me now. That it’s kind of a funny story. He says, “I did it because of what happened with Audrey. Because Mom’s so worried I wouldn’t make time for something like this.” He gestures to me without looking at me, like I’m “this.”

Grants wears a false look of concern, the look you’d give someone after you tripped them and were gallantly helping them up off the ground. “What a mess,” he says to all of us. “Am I right?”

“You really broke into my briefcase,” Stewart says.

Grant shrugs. “At least I didn’t hire a woman to play house with. I’m thinking that’s not best practices? Uncle Henry, what would the board say?”

Henry ignores Grant and looks directly at Stewart. “Unbelievably poor judgment. And you brought her out with clients.” He looks at me, disappointed, and walks away. Grant follows him, and Stewart turns to me finally. He looks broken. He starts to say something but just shakes his head and leaves to follow them inside.

Everyone is watching me. Stewart walked away. He walked away.

“Grant is the absolute worst,” Busy says.

“Yes,” I say to the ground.

“Stewart cares about you,” she says. “You know that.”

Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I take a breath and let it out. I run a hand over the gigantic skirt of my dress. I look up at her. “I know. Or I hope I know. But technically this is over after tonight. Can you help me get out of here? Everyone’s staring.”

Busy leads me through the crowd, toward the house. I keep my eyes down, which makes me seem shameful. Even though I don’t want to, I am giving this crowd exactly what they want. We go into the kitchen, bustling with caterers, and Gladys crosses the room to me.