Calculated Risk (11 page)

She squinted, focusing on the ball.

He served to her in his usual easy-going speed and she hit the ball off the table. She dropped her arms to her side. She'd let Nick intimidate her. Nancy and Nick performed fist bumps with both fists.

Tony put his arm around Cisney and hugged her sideways. “There's always next year, partner.”

Sweet Tony bore the loss well. At least she was saved from doing the victory dance. Ready for a soda, a chair, and the show, she pulled her phone from her pocket. A photo of Nick performing the victory dance might come in handy at work.

Fran dismounted her bar stool and extended her hand toward Tony, snapping her fingers. He retrieved a CD from the counter over the refrigerator and gave it to her.

Fannie backed toward the staircase while her sister put the CD in the player. “For the victory dance, Cisney, the runners-up get to pick the dance and the music, and the winners have to be their partners. It's the reward for us losers, who get to watch their performance.”

What? She had to perform some crazy dance with Nick? What kind of victory dance was that? “I don't see how this constitutes a reward for the winners.”

Tony handed her a soda and popped the top of his. “Just be thankful you don't have to do the chicken dance Nancy chose last year for Nick and Allison.”

Cisney chortled. She couldn't help it. She'd have paid good money to witness Nick flapping his elbows.

“What's the dance this year, Tony?” Nancy asked.

“You and Nick have to roll up your pant legs and dance the polka with us.” Tony turned to Cisney. “That part—rolling up pants—we don't have to do.”

“Do you need a lesson, Nick?” Nancy asked, laughing.

Nick rolled up his pant legs. “No, I think I can handle the polka.”

Surprise, surprise. Nick LeCrone had well-shaped legs. After today, it would be hard to have a blasé financial discussion with Nick without thinking of this moment.

Nick straightened, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to the dance floor. This hand-grasping thing was becoming a habit. A dangerous habit, according to the flutters ping-ponging in the fleshy keeper of her emotions.

Clamping her hand in his and stretching out her right arm, he planted his other hand against her back. She giggled—the nervous kind. Did she remember how to polka?

Nancy finished rolling up her pants and accepted Tony's hand.

When Fran started the music, Nick launched Cisney forward. They stomped around the room to the vigorous Vejvoda's “Beer Barrel Polka.” She laughed so hard she had to trust Nick to keep them from plowing into Nancy and Tony.

As Nick whirled her on the last refrain, a blur of faces whipped into her quickly changing field of vision. She wrenched her head past Nick's shoulder. That scamp, Fannie. The twin had lured the family down to witness the victory dance.

The music stopped and Nick removed his guiding hand from her back and spun her out so that their outer arms were extended in a theatrical finish. They both gasped for breaths. Applause sounded from the gallery, except from Ellie. Her hands were clasped under her chin, her ear-to-ear smile a speed bump for her tears. A hundred to one, it wasn't their dancing expertise that had elicited her strong emotions.

Nick dropped her hand as if she had cooties. She stumbled to catch herself as he bent to roll down his pant legs. He must have spotted Ellie. OK, so he wouldn't want his mother to get any ideas about their relationship, but with her own heart already shot full of holes, his abruptness spelled rejection. Even Grandpa had blinked in surprise at Nick's briskness, proving she hadn't overreacted.

Lord, please. I need your strength. Lead me not into rejection.

 

 

 

 

7

 

Nick stood before his bedroom mirror and buttoned on a clean shirt. He could strangle Fannie. They never invited the older generations to witness the victory dance. Mom's tear-stained face had left no doubt she thought he'd one day add Cisney to the family. But Mom had missed Cisney's coolness toward him on the trip up the basement stairs. Before he could make amends for dropping her hand as if she had the flu, she'd excused herself to take a call.

They needed to talk. If he was honest with her, maybe she'd…she'd what? Stop being herself? At least he could explain how Mom was collecting gems to support her cockamamie idea that he and Cisney belonged together. Hopefully, Cisney didn't have similar ridiculous ideas about their relationship. That would top off the weekend.

Tony entered, stripping off his shirt. “Fannie says we have to leave in twenty minutes. Grandma Thelma, Mom, and Aunt Ellie are working like crazy in the kitchen to have everything ready for the Holiday Blast. Should I head upstairs and let Cisney know?”

“No. I think she's on the phone with her parents. I'll go up in a minute.”

Tony went into the bathroom.

Nick combed his hair. How should he approach Cisney? Why was he constantly feeling guilty when he'd done nothing wrong? Well, except for dropping Cisney's hand. But why wouldn't he act that way, when he had no control over false engagements, everyone loving Cisney, and Mom's tears? At least, Dad seemed to understand boundaries. Why couldn't they all be like Dad?

Was he rationalizing? What was the real reason he'd reacted so rashly with Cisney? So unlike himself. Even shocked Grandpa.

Nick sat on the bed. First off, the family's expectations were pressuring him. But he probably added to the problem, disliking that Cisney's laughter during the polka threatened his resolve to swear off relationships. He sighed. Better get upstairs and grovel.

While he climbed the stairs to Cisney's room, no concrete way to smooth things over formed in his mind. He knocked gently.

She opened the door an inch, her head bowed against the low ceiling. Was the terrycloth material he glimpsed a towel, or a bathrobe?

He leaned a hand against the wall and bent over so she could see him better. “We leave for the traditional Holiday Blast and movie in fifteen minutes. I know how you like family traditions, so…”

She stared at him as if he were a door-to-door salesman. He held his ground and gave her what he hoped was a contrite expression.

She returned a weak smile. “I think I'll pass.”

“Was that your parents who called?”

“Yes. We didn't talk long. It's after midnight in Germany.”

“Can we talk?”

“I thought we were.”

She was going to make this hard. “I mean, can you put on some clothes and either come out here, or let me in?”

“I'm decent.” She drew the door open and stood aside for him to enter.

Her yellow terrycloth bathrobe nearly reached the floor.

He stooped and moved to a place where he could stand. She did the same.

He motioned her toward a window chair, and then sat in the other. “You don't know my mother. She worries I'm going to be a bachelor forever.”

Pulling her robe tighter around her, she sat. “She sees me as a last chance.”

She understood.
Thank you, Lord.
He plowed on, braver. “She and my whole family love you…”

“But you don't.”

He gaped, searching for a response. None came.

“I'm teasing you.”

He shut his mouth. “I was a jerk down there—”

“I know.”

“Then why are you so forgiving?”

“Because you crawling up here to “talk” is balm to my hurt ego.”

He extended his hand toward her. “So come with us—”

She tightened her grip on her bathrobe. “Don't you dare grab my hand and pull me. I need to put some clothes on.”

“You'll come with us?” Why did he hope she'd say yes? Maybe he was tired of feeling guilty.

“I wouldn't be getting dressed to mope alone in my room, would I?”

He stood, hunched over, and walked to the door. “Hurry downstairs. We'll want to have lots of time for the Holiday Blast so we can make it to the movie in plenty of time. Fran and Fannie picked the show, so the previews may be the best part. And we're picking up Allison.”

 

****

 

Cisney scrambled to the seat in the rear of Roger's van. Grandpa, Roger, and Bill hurried from the house carrying large paper sacks that they handed off to Tony and Nick, who packed them in the back of the van. Fannie and Fran piled in and sat next to Cisney while Nancy scooted into the middle seat.

Cisney set her handbag on the floor to give the twins more room. “What's going on?”

Fran held a box the size of a medium-sized sheet cake on her lap. “It's our turn to do the Holiday Blast.”

Would wonders never cease? The silent twin had uttered words. And her information was about as useful as Nick's normal fare. “What's the Holiday Blast?”

Fannie jumped in. “Many of the elderly in Aunt Ellie, Uncle Roger, and Nancy's church would like to decorate for the holidays, but find it's too hard or exhausting or dangerous. A lot of them have cherished ornaments and other decorations that sit in boxes in attics or basements. So different teams from the church go out and decorate their houses or apartments with their ornaments.” She pointed to the box on Fran's lap. “Every year, we add a new ornament to each household.”

“That's awesome.” Cisney risked Fran slapping her hand and lifted the lid. Colorful Christmas tree ornaments covered the bottom of the box. “I'm glad to see you're decorating for Christmas and not Thanksgiving.”

Nancy leaned against the window. “Although, Easter and other holidays are available, our family always does Christmas while we're all here to participate. We go out late like this on Thanksgiving Day so we can take fresh turkey sandwiches, tossed salads, and pie slices to each household. You may not have noticed that Mom had two turkeys cooking this morning. And right before we sit down to eat, Grandma Thelma slides more pies into the oven.“

“I wondered why there were so many pies and vegetables.” What a good use of the LeCrone's two ovens. “This whole idea is amazing.”

“Yeah,” Fannie said. “At the homes, we take down and pack away Thanksgiving decorations that another team put up, and then decorate for Christmas. It's been part of our Thanksgiving Day tradition for five years.”

“Six,” Fran said.

Nick climbed into the driver's seat and power closed the lift-gate. Tony rode shotgun in the front passenger seat.

A few blocks away, if the winding road could be said to have blocks, Nick stopped at a large Tudor-like house and picked up waiting Allison. She offered greetings around and sat next to Nancy.

As Nick drove on, Tony consulted a sheet of paper. “We'll need to split up into three teams. Fan and Fran, do you guys want to take the apartments like always?”

“Yes.” Fran spoke over his last words.

Tony turned in his seat. “Who do you want to go with, Cisney?”

She startled. “Whomever. It doesn't matter.” But it did. She'd assumed she'd be sticking with Nick. And wanted to. But Nick failed to jump in and claim her. He remained silent. She felt like the last person standing by herself when team captains took turns calling players from the group to join their teams. She'd never had that experience, but now she could identify.

Nancy snatched the paper from Tony's hand and studied it. “Three of us have to go to the neighborhood near the church, because we have three houses there and need the manpower to get them all done in time.”

Tony seized the paper back. “OK. So, Cisney, why don't you come with Allison and me there.”

Cisney forced out a cheerful, “Sure.”

Was Nick jumping joyously inwardly?

Nancy held up her hand. “Stop. Wait a minute. As much as I love my brother, I think Cisney should go with Nick.”

Tony stared at her. “Why?”

“Let's take a vote,” Allison said, laughing.

All, except Nick, agreed.

Were they joking? Obviously, yes, but who was the joke on. Nick, or her, or both? Was this payback for leading the family astray with the engagement false alarm?

Head-in-the-sand Nick kept driving as if he were merely a chauffeur surrounded by soundproof glass.

“All in favor of Cisney going with Tony and Allison raise your hand,” Nancy said.

Tony's hand shot up. Snickers emitted from the women on all sides, but no arms went up.

“All in favor of Cisney going with Nick raise your hand.”

Every woman's hand rose, except Cisney's. Nick hadn't voted this time, either. More snickering from the women. It hit her. They were cupids wielding their votes like arrows in their bows. They were for her, not against her. She should be honored.

Her lips trembled as she held back from laughing. “I'd be honored to join my gracious weekend host.”

Nick spoke over his shoulder. “Nice to hear there's one adult in this sorry gang.”

That had been a vote of confidence, of sorts. She'd be satisfied with it.

Nick dropped Tony, Nancy, and Allison in the neighborhood near the church, where their three elderly participants, all widows, lived in homes within walking distance.

Nick lowered his window. “I'll pick you up here in three hours, so we can make the eight o'clock show.”

At an apartment complex, the twins scrambled out, collected two ornaments from the box and three paper bags from the back of the van, and headed toward a ground-floor apartment. Cisney switched to the front passenger seat, riding shotgun.

Nick pulled out of the complex lot. “Fran and Fannie will decorate two apartments, one for a couple married sixty years and the other for a widow in her nineties. Are you ready for this?”

Cisney nodded. “I love this ministry.”

He looked over at her. “I apologize for my family.”

“Not a problem. They're fun. Who's on our list?”