When the Music Stops (32 page)

"Good,” Marta said. “Maybe more good news will float down at the goodbye luncheon tomorrow."

h

Lily Rose greeted everyone on the wide veranda of the Kitsap County Country Club wearing a flowing green shirtwaist dress with matching heels and gloves. "I'm so glad you're here. Trixie and Frann are modeling. They'll join us for lunch after the show. Irene saved our table for ten up front."

Bremer’s department store provided an informal summer fashion show while the ladies sat at luncheon tables sipping cocktails and nibbling on tiny canapés. Club members wearing capri pants, summer shirtwaist dresses, and chiffon baby doll nighties walked among the guests, offering closer views and glimpses of the price tags. The one-piece hot pink strapless Catalina and the polka dot Jantzen swimwear caused the most stir.

Lindsay turned to Marta. “How could anyone swim without a strap to hold up the top?”

Marta laughed. “I don’t think the people who wear those suits plan to get even their painted toes wet.”

After Trixie and Frann finished modeling, they joined the ladies for lunch. Waiters in white shirts with black bow ties and black slacks served salmon with dill sauce and green salads with artichoke hearts, then offered dainty rolls with pats of butter.

“Trixie, you looked great in that teal green Jantzen swimsuit,” Irene said. “I loved the empire detail. Of course it wouldn’t look good unless we had your curvy figure.”

Trixie laughed. “I tell everyone I’m keeping my curves because of Marta’s exercise class. Expect a few women to call you.”

“There’s always room for more classes when we hire more instructors.”

“Hope he’s a cute guy with strong shoulders who wears tight shorts,” said Irene.

“Speaking of shorts, I can’t believe boy shorts are still in style,” Frann said. “They camouflage my thighs, but how long are we expected to wear unflattering patterns?”

“Did you notice all the shirtwaists?” Lindsay said. “I am so sick and tired of all the flouncing material and the petticoats. I’m glad sheaths are becoming popular. Of course right now I’d be happy to wear either.”

The ladies laughed.

“I saw a lovely sheath in Seattle at I. Magnin,” said Sally from the exercise class. “I loved the polka dot tie. Can you believe they wanted thirty dollars for one dress?”

“Check out the Montgomery Ward catalog,” suggested Miriam. “They’re showing several at $4.98. Unfortunately the fabric looks like colored flour sacks.”

“You know, my mom and I sew,” Marta said. “We’d make you ladies dresses or capris any time you want. Just find the fabric and pattern you like.”

“I doubt you’ll have time to sew,” Lindsay said. “The studio will take all your time and energy. Assuming you still find a way to buy it.

“Wait. What do you mean?” Lily Rose said. “We thought this was settled.”

“It was,” Marta’s mom said. “But there’s a technicality. We’re going in later this week to straighten it out. But let’s forget about that for now and toast Lindsay and her baby.”

“Cheers,” the ladies said as they raised their glasses.

While the conversation circled the table, Marta excused herself and headed to the ladies room. On the way back to the table, she heard a familiar voice and saw Zandora Marcus seated at the bar near the banquet room. Miss Elliott sat next to her. Marta stepped behind a post to try to listen to what they said.

“I knew if I shared that information with you, the loan might be rejected,” Zandora said. “I’d have loved to see Elle’s and Marta’s faces when you turned them down. My friend is excited to know she has an even better chance to buy the building now. There’s no way any agent will turn down a hefty commission and an offer higher than the asking price, unless he’s a fool. Of course it will need to be repainted. You should see the colors Marta selected. So passé; certainly not appropriate colors for an Arthur Murray dance studio.”

Marta leaned against the wall, catching her breath, waiting for her body to stop shaking. She backed away, returned to her luncheon table following a different route, and sat down. “I think I know who helped the loan get rejected.” She explained the conversation she’d overheard.

“That woman!” Lily Rose said, then looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper. “We’ve got to stop Zandora and her friend.”

“Let’s not talk here,” Frann said.

Lily Rose stood. “Meet me at my home in thirty minutes. There must be something we can do to save the studio.”

The women sat in a circle of chairs in Lily Rose’s living room ignoring the amazing view. Lindsay sat in a club chair and took in deep, ragged breaths. “I think you need to forget your bank and go to mine. Northwest Merchants Bank may be more willing to work with you since they’ve handled my business for years.”

Heads nodded.

She continued. “I paid $4,500 as a down payment, and the monthly loan costs $175. With taxes, insurance, and utilities for the studio, I’m paying out $225 a month. There isn’t time to apply for a small business loan, so we’ll need a different solution.”

“Would your bank transfer the loan to Elle?” Irene asked.

“Probably.” Lindsay’s face contorted and she closed her eyes. “Oh, ah, I need to go home. This baby is dancing around and telling me to rest. I trust you ladies to sort this out.” Frann drove her home, promising to agree to any action they decided.

Lily Rose stood behind a chair and looked around the circle. “We can sit here all day and talk, but we need a plan as soon as possible.”

Marta cleared her throat and inhaled deeply before she spoke. “Would you ladies consider becoming partners in the dance studio? If my mom and I talk with Lindsay’s bank and they transfer the loan and we sell our home, we’ll have a large part of the expenses handled. If we could tell them we had partners supporting the studio, they might take a chance on a loan for us.”

All heads nodded.

“I like that idea,” Trixie said. “My husband will draw up legal papers if we can work out how much each of us is able to contribute.”

Marta’s mom frowned. “I don’t want anyone to feel pressured to help financially. Perhaps people will consider donating services as a way to support the studio.”

Lily Rose smiled and tapped her hands on the back of the chair where she stood. “That’s a great idea. Let’s all go home, talk with our families, and decide what we feel comfortable contributing: money, time, whatever. Call me tomorrow and I’ll compile our information. I’ll keep it confidential and only share details for legal purposes.”

The women stood, gathered their belongings, and started to leave. “One more thing, ladies,” Lily Rose said. “Don’t tell
anyone
about this. We don’t want Zandora Marcus to get wind of our plans.”

On the drive home, Marta sat deep in thought. “Mom, would it help if I stayed? I have no plans so I could stay on.”

Her mom smiled. “It would make things easier. How long would you stay?”

Marta shrugged.

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Two days later the ladies met again, without Lindsay since she had a doctor’s appointment. Lily Rose’s living room buzzed with energy as she shared the results of their efforts. “Lindsay transferred the loan to Elle. The bank allowed Elle to assume the loan payments, and with our merged resources we have enough for two months of loan payments. We’ll send Lindsay and Adam, and the baby, to San Diego with their down payment money in their pockets, plus Lindsay will allow Elle to buy the business of the dance studio over time.”

Applause and smiles circled the group.

“Tell them the rest of the news,” Irene said.

Lily Rose smiled. “With our merged resources, the studio has people to provide legal help, inventory studio assets, design advertising, studio cleaning and maintenance, holiday sewing, provide hair cuts and perm services with part of their proceeds benefiting the studio. Even though we tried to keep this quiet, several dance families have called me. House cleaners and adult babysitters, holiday bakers, and even a yard cleaning service have offered to split their profits with the studio for one year. As new issues and problems arise, we’ll have most everything covered.

“Each person will receive a written contract listing their contributions, the value of those contributions, and the anticipated payback schedule if money was loaned. The best part of this higher level finance scheme is that Elle will still have enough for her wedding and a brief honeymoon.”

Marta watched her mom blush at the mention of a honeymoon. When her mom and Robert talked last night, they’d scaled down the already simple wedding to family and close friends in Robert’s backyard. By mutual consent, their honeymoon shrank from a ten-day trip to the Oregon coast down to a day at the ocean with the money saved going to help with dance studio expenses.

Marta emptied her savings for a car into the studio fund and signed on to sew for the community theatre productions to increase her contribution. She offered reduced fees on lessons to all the contributing families to repay their generosity in saving the dance studio. Next came another hard decision. How long was she willing to put her personal life on hold?

The tide was low on the beach along Corbett Drive as Marta took off her shoes and stood in the chilly water. She watched the shore crabs circle her feet then scoot away when she wiggled her toes. She couldn’t scoot away from her decision much longer. It wasn’t fair to Sam or Steve if she wavered about getting serious with one of them. As she returned to her little house, she gave herself an ultimatum—two weeks.

The phone was ringing as she stepped into the house. It was her mom.

“It’s happened. Lindsay had their baby boy this afternoon. Jeffrey Rahe Holland. Six pounds, seven ounces. Adam said both were doing well and we’re on the list to visit this evening.”

Marta laughed. “I’II bet she’s happy. Did you wrap our gift to her yet?”

“No, I wanted to call you, but I’ll add his name, wrap it, and pick you up at seven.”

The maternity ward had two rows of beds; all were full. Marta and her mom spotted Lindsay holding a small bundle to her breast with a nervous Adam standing beside her. They clapped silently as they approached Lindsay’s bed.

“Brava,” Marta said. “How are you three feeling?”

“Like we waited too long to do this,” Adam said. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

Lindsay handed the sleeping baby boy to Adam, who handed him over to Marta’s mom.

“I remember Marta as a baby,” her mom said as she swayed with the baby in her arms. “Seems like yesterday. Where did this handsome boy’s name come from?”

“He’s named after our fathers,” Lindsay said. “I’m sorry you won’t get to see him grow up. I hope he loves music and wants to dance.”

“Wait, Linds,” Adam said. “We also want him to be an athlete, love boats, and be a good student.”

Marta laughed. “This will be one busy boy.” She handed the gift from her mom and herself to Lindsay. “We hope you will think of us when you use it.”

When Lindsay opened the package, tears formed in her eyes. “Oh-h-h. This quilt is gorgeous. You even wrote his name on it. Thank you so much. Some of these squares look familiar. Are they…?”

Marta’s mom nodded. “They’re squares from various costumes we’ve made for the studio over the years, plus colors we knew you loved. You know us, we never throw anything away.”

When they left the hospital, Marta and her mom drove to Rhododendron Drive and sat in the backyard. “It’s been quite a month, hasn’t it?” Marta said. “The Hollands will soon be gone, and we’ll be on our own. It’s exciting and kind of scary as well.”

Her mom nodded. “But since we got our feet wet taking over the recital, I think we’re in good shape. We’ve received amazing support. I think we’ll be okay.”

Her mom was right. The studio business was handled. Time for handling her personal life decisions, like sending a letter for Lynne to her family home before she scooted off the Europe.

Dear Lynne,

Lindsay had her baby. It’s a boy, Jeffrey Rahe Holland. The new family will drive to San Diego this next week, stopping to show off the baby to friends along the way. Please call to say good bye. I’m glad for you and sad for me.

You never made it to the northwest. I had so many places I wanted to show you. I might have found a handsome guy you’d like, but too late. It’s becoming the story of your life, unless Mr. Almost is hanging in.

I’m teetering on how I feel about Sam and Steve. It’s like having two doors with no windows, so I can’t peek inside. No matter which one I select I’ll be happy. It’s just that they’ll be different kinds of happiness.

Write letters or send me postcards. I’m excited for your up-coming adventure. Try to stay out of trouble. Ha, ha.

Love and hugs,

Marta

Marta stood in the dance studio office sorting the boxes delivered that morning. It felt strange opening boxes addressed to Lindsay; she’d need to change the addressee name with all the accounts as well as the post office to keep things current.

The door to the dance studio opened, but no one entered immediately.
Thump
. Something bumped against the door, then it closed. A tiny fussy sound followed.