Adrienne was chatting in a friendly way with the red-haired woman standing next to the man. They seemed to know each other. After a few minutes, Adrienne came up to the front. She introduced me, then left to teach her coaching session, with a little wink to me at the door. She’d given me the tags with their names on them, which I’d made earlier in the day because Adrienne believed it made the students feel more comfortable if you used their names. I checked my list and tried to match names to the people.

When I went up to the single man to give him his tag, I hesitated, noticing his work boots. He had the biggest, widest feet I’d ever seen. Despite his plain clothing, he stood proud and straight. “Umm, we allow normal shoes but I’m afraid yours might damage the floor.” It was a part of my receptionist’s duties to screen clients for acceptable shoes, although I’d never had to say anything before.

He smiled, his green eyes crinkling. His face was clean-shaven, with a nose slightly flattened at the top, as if it’d been broken before. “They might damage someone’s toes too. I’m sorry, we were doing a garden paving job, and I didn’t have time to change before coming here. I’ll take them off.”

Then the woman next to him took his arm and said to me, “This is Ryan. He’s a landscaper.” She didn’t look like the sort of woman I would have imagined with this guy. She had straight, shoulder-length dark red hair, a light sprinkling of freckles, completely composed in her navy suit and heels. She extended her hand. “I’m Evelyn, his sister.”

I shook it, still self-conscious about my hands, although I knew the skin had healed by now.

Untying his boots, Ryan said, “I’m just a gardener, Evelyn.”

“No, you’re not. Stop it.”

I almost laughed. They sounded just like me and Lisa. “Glad you could make it, Ryan, Evelyn.”

“And this is my fiancé, Trevor,” Evelyn said, turning to the man on her other side, in a pin-striped shirt and a blue tie, which he’d loosened.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” Trevor said.

I quickly shook his hand, gave them their tags and then moved to the center of the room.

“Welcome, everyone,” I said, trying to speak loudly and clearly. I clasped my hands tightly together to stop their trembling. “Today I’ll be teaching you just a few basic steps. I need a male volunteer.” I’d dreaded this part, but when I scanned the room, I focused on a kind face. “Ryan, since you’re in your socks and I know you won’t be able to hurt my toes, will you come up?” That got a laugh, which made me feel better.

Ryan rolled his shoulders. Could he be nervous too? Then he came to stand next to me. I positioned him across from me and took his forearms in a double hand hold. “We’ll start with a side step. I’ll need the rest of you to grab a partner like this and line up with us.”

We waited while the room shuffled around.

“Now, we’re just going to take little side steps together, toward the door.” I thought about how I remembered the movement myself. “It’s like you’re at the movies and you need to get up to buy some popcorn. You have to squeeze past everyone, so you say, ‘Excuse me,’ then do a little step to the side.”

Evelyn laughed. “It’s an excuse-me step.”

“Yes. Okay, everyone, come along with me and we’ll go ‘Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me.’” I felt more comfortable now that the class had started. It wasn’t so different from what I’d done before after all.

I held on to Ryan’s arms and moved him with me to the side. His strides were so large, he wound up far away from me with every step we took. I ticked him on the wrist. “Stay with me. That’s what a gentleman does.”

There was a teasing light in his eyes. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Ryan stayed up front with me for the rest of the lesson. I’d intended to change partners for every dance, but I was so flustered by being in front of the class that I forgot.

When I had everyone get into dance position and we held hands for the first time, he stared at the floor. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“What?”

He mumbled so that I just managed to hear him say, “My hands are very rough.”

I could feel his calluses, and I saw the knuckles were red and chapped. Warmth flowed through me. I hadn’t expected to find someone like me at the studio. “They don’t bother me at all.”

When I walked around the room to help the other students, Ryan waited until I came back. To my surprise, I was having a good time. The students were all nice and laughing and stumbling over each other’s feet. I taught them some of the things Julian had told me, about dance not being about steps but about feeling. When we did rumba, I told them to draw in the sand with their feet. When we waltzed, we pretended to be ladies and gentlemen. I was afraid it’d seem childish but they seemed to enjoy the games.

“Oh, I’m the clumsiest person,” one woman said and I automatically answered, “You could never be as uncoordinated as me.” The people who could hear us started to laugh. I realized they believed I was graceful and thought I was being modest. They thought I was a real dancer.

At the end, Adrienne came in with her clipboard and started booking lessons for people who wanted to take follow-up private lessons. Most of them stayed around, some thanked me. Evelyn had come up to Adrienne and was asking about planning a dance for her wedding. Ryan grinned at me as he stood by the door, waiting for Evelyn and Trevor.

It was now break time. A few of the dancers started filing through the small ballroom on their way to the teachers’ room. I realized Adrienne had the situation under control and that my feet hurt. I stepped into the teachers’ room, then took off those high heels, placing them carefully by Katerina’s locker.

“How was it?” Nina asked.

“I think all right.”

Simone spoke up, “Though you were playing a waltz while you were counting to foxtrot.”

I hunched my shoulders. “How would you know?”

“We all swung by to see how the class was going,” Mateo said. “You were so busy, you didn’t even notice us.”

“Well, I’m glad I survived my one and only class. Never again.”

Eight

It was early in the morning, and the wintry air was crisp. I stared at the flour sacks piled as high as my shoulder that the delivery truck had dumped in the alleyway behind the noodle shop. A few doorways further, the fishmonger was unloading ice-filled crates from a truck.

Pa grinned. “Just you and me, Charlie, like before.”

When I was working at the restaurant, it had always been an understood part of my job to help Pa and his assistant stack the sacks of flour in the basement. Today, the assistant’s wife was in labor, keeping him away, so Pa needed me more than ever. The assistant before this one had been my secret steady boyfriend for a few months, and Pa never figured it out. It’d been exciting at first to have a hidden relationship but that quickly became stressful, and when he’d left for another restaurant our relationship had ended as well. I felt a bit hurt that he hadn’t wanted to see me afterward, but the truth was, I missed him less as a person than as a distraction. We’d shared an interest in exploring each other’s bodies but not much else.

“Come on.” Pa hoisted a large bag over his shoulder and headed for the stairs.

I bent my knees, grabbed another one and threw it over my shoulder as well. This was no place for ballroom heels. After a few trips, I was warm enough to shed my coat and sweater. One of the bags had a small leak in it, and now my face and shoulders were white with flour. I rubbed my nose and mouth, trying to clear them. My right shoulder ached from the weight of the bags.

“You want to take a break?” Pa asked. “I can do the rest.”