Music suddenly blared from the speakers-Carrie Underwood’s “Cowboy Casanova”-at decibel levels guaranteed to net complaints from my neighbors. Danielle and I whirled to see that a tipsy Vitaly had plugged his iPod into the stereo system and was now free-dancing to the strong beat. With a laugh, Danielle joined him, doing the same dorky box step she’d been doing since her first middle school dance. Maurice set down the champagne bottle and glided toward me. With a smile, he offered his hand.
“Anastasia?”
“Let’s dance,” I agreed.
ELLA BARRICK
Вы читаете Dead Man Waltzing
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