lifted an eyebrow before he leaned closer. “Miss Jenkins,” he whispered, “was too busy chasing after the older boys to teach anyone anything.”
For some unfathomable reason, heat stung her cheeks. It didn’t have anything to do with Miss Jenkins. She barely remembered the woman. The influenza epidemic had hit shortly after she’d taken over as teacher and school had been closed for months.
“She married Dac’s cousin,” Scooter said. “They live over by St. Cloud and have five or six kids, last I heard.”
The cheering crowd brought her attention back to the dance floor, where Twyla and Forrest were embraced in a rather heated kiss. Along with everyone else, Josie watched, and wondered. Many things had changed in her life. Teachers. The epidemic that had taken her mother, brother and grandparents away in a swoop. She’d missed them terribly at first, still mourned the losses, but not even their deaths had left her with the uncanny sense of dread she felt today.
Perhaps because she’d been too young. She was twenty-one now, an age where she understood cause and effect, and consequences.
After a roaring round of applause, girls started passing out ice cream and cake. Josie once again looked for an escape route, but people were crowding closer, vying for the next bowl. Scooter handed her one that held both cake and ice cream, and a spoon.
“Let’s move over a bit.”
She started to protest, but was cut short when someone bumped into her.
Scooter caught her bowl before it toppled. “This way,” he said.
Josie followed him a few feet, to where he stopped next to Ty and Norma Rose. She’d barely taken a bite when Norma Rose shoved another bowl in her direction.
“Hold this.” Her sister then grabbed Ty’s bowl and Scooter’s. “We have to get those tables off the dance floor.”
“Why?” Josie asked as she took the bowls Norma Rose handed her. Having waited tables plenty of times, balancing all four was easy.
“That’s why,” Norma Rose said.
Josie turned in the direction her sister pointed. Their other newly acquired brother-in-law, Brock Ness, had positioned himself behind the piano that had also been transported outside as another round of applause echoed through the air. Brock was an excellent musician and the locals had missed his performances since he’d left for Chicago.
“Once he starts playing, people will crowd the floor, tables or not,” Norma Rose said.
Ty and Scooter followed Norma Rose. Frustration filled Josie as she glanced down at the four bowls full of untouched cake and ice cream. Spying a waitress nearby now gathering empty plates, Josie wasted no time in getting rid of all four. A touch of guilt ensued, but she ignored it. Scooter, as well as Norma Rose and Ty, could get more cake and ice cream. There was plenty.
She’d made it almost to the far side of the dance floor when a familiar hold once again caught her arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Scooter asked.
“I have things to see to,” she said, twisting her arm.
“No, you don’t,” he said. “I heard Moe tell you everything was under control.”
“In the kitchen,” she said. “But there’s—”
“Nothing you need to see to right now.” Turning her toward him, he said, “Let’s cut a rug.”
“I don’t want to dance,” she said, spinning around. The flash of a camera bulb momentarily blinded her. Newspapermen were everywhere today, hoping to get a picture of Babe Ruth.
“Too bad,” Scooter said. “Whether you want to or not, we’re dancing.”
She truly didn’t have much of a choice. Others were pushing their way onto the dance floor, hurling her and Scooter forward with their momentum.
Brock hit the piano keys and the first notes ripped through the crowd like a buzz saw. People shouted, their hoots and hollers loud enough to frighten the seagulls from the air.
Josie stifled her protest as Scooter glided her into his arms and she allowed him to whisk her across the floor. He was an excellent dancer, especially of the Charleston. The two of them had been paired up in an impromptu dance-off a few weeks ago, which had been more fun than she’d had in ages.
The tempo of the song increased and she and Scooter held hands as they spun forward to rush through the steps of the popular dance. People bumped into her and Scooter pulled her closer before swiftly guiding her around to his other side.
“I don’t want someone to step on your toes,” he shouted above the ruckus. “Your feet have already been damaged enough from wearing those ugly green shoes.”
Josie had to laugh. “Thank you,” she shouted in return. “Your gallantry is outstanding.”
In the middle of his fast dance steps, he gave her a brief bow, which had them both laughing. Having grown up with him, she’d never felt uncomfortable around Scooter, as she’d felt around others, and she’d gone to him, on more than one occasion, when she’d needed things. Mechanical things usually. Having a car she could count on was an important aspect of her life.
They danced through the next two songs Brock played, and when, after striking the final chords as only Brock could, he stood up from behind the piano, Josie was more than a little winded.
Scooter was, as well, or at least he acted that way, and said, “Water, I need water.”
Laughing, Josie led him away from the dance floor, to where a table of nonalcoholic punch and soda was set up. She picked up a soda and drank half of it as Slim Johnson made his way to the piano. Wayne Sears, another musician they’d hired for the night, was somewhere at the resort, too. When the dance-off started, they’d need more than one. A large number of people had signed up for the contest.
Her father was beside Slim and as the musician sat down, her father once again held up a hand, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, as a hush came over the crowd. “I want to thank all of you for attending this first ever Fourth of July barbecue here at Nightingale’s.” Once the applause died, he added, “It’s been so successful, we’ll have to make it a yearly event.” Finding the baseball player amid the crowd, he asked, “What do you say, Babe?”
Babe Ruth held his glass up in salute, and once again the crowd went wild.
“You’ve all met my daughter Twyla,” her father then said, “the girl who got married today, and I want to introduce you to my other daughters.”
Josie’s heart sank. He’d never publically introduced them before. Although she was proud of her father, never being in the limelight suited her. She liked being the mediocre sister. The one no one recognized. It meant she could wear britches and go barefoot when she wanted to.
Scanning the crowd, her father said, “Norma Rose, you and Ty come up here. Twyla, you and Forrest. Ginger? Where’s my baby girl? Aw, there she is. Brock, bring her up here. And Josie...?”
She wanted to slink under the table. Particularly
