Not many were seated yet. Most people were doing what Goldie and Adrian were, wandering along the tables and admiring the handmade and otherwise-made crafts available for the raffle.
Goldie spotted Mrs. Bear, Chase, and Kimmy moseying along and catching people in conversation around the room. “Would you like to sit with your mom and brother?” she suggested.
“We don’t have to.”
He seemed to find the far back wall rather interesting. Goldie focused her attention on Adrian’s family. They were also joined by a pretty brunette in a white top and a yellow skirt.
“Let me guess. They’re sitting by Danica?”
“You guessed correctly.”
She wanted to ask why he had such an aversion to this woman. Danica seemed nice enough, from this distance anyway, with her smile and poise and lack of sharp or otherwise threatening objects in hand. He’d mentioned knowing her too well to want to date her anymore, but was that all there was to it?
A band was setting up on a makeshift stage at the left side, complete with a drum set and three rows of chairs. Teenagers wearing dress shirts and pants set off by sparkling cummerbunds and matching bowties emerged with saxophones, trombones, and trumpets and were taking their seats, while a girl with short hair settled herself at the piano.
“High school band?”
“Jazz band,” he said. “They’re quite good. It’s a nice way to get their parents here to donate as well.”
Goldie stared in amazement. She loved jazz. “It looks like they’re going to get started.”
“Then I guess we’d better sit down.” He gestured to the nearby table, and Goldie smiled at him and slipped into her seat. Chase and Kimmy sat on the opposite end. Goldie noticed Adrian’s youngest brother, Jordan, led a pretty girl with red hair to a place a few seats down.
Mrs. Bear made her way to the microphone. “Welcome, fellow residents of Two Pines, to our twelfth annual fundraiser event. In honor of Matthew’s death and his life, we acknowledge the effort that went into preparations. We are pleased to have the Two Pines’ high school jazz band providing music, and we encourage you all to take the floor and dance.
“Thank you to those of you who donated prizes. Be sure to purchase raffle tickets at the door. In Matthew’s honor, let’s make sure this is our best year yet. Winners will be drawn toward the end of the evening. We’ll start once everyone is seated, and then your prime rib will be served.”
Polite applause followed, and people strolled along to take their places. Before long, the meals had all been served, delivered to the tables by men and women, both teenaged and middle-aged, garbed in black dress clothes.
Goldie and Adrian ate in polite conversation. She enjoyed the delicious meal and was grateful not to be stranded on the curb of her aunt’s abandoned house. Several times, she glanced around in hope that someone might pronounce themselves to be Bethany Harold, but not only was it dark, lit only by twinkling strands of lights along the folded-in bleachers, fake trees, and latticed scaffolding decorating the space, Goldie still didn’t have a clue what her aunt looked like.
She’d tried searching Facebook for a picture, but apparently, the woman wasn’t on social media. Talk about living in a bubble. She tried picturing a version of her mother’s face, but even that did little good.
“Is something wrong?” Adrian asked. “You look concerned.”
“It’s nothing,” she said. She didn’t want to tell him how uncertain about things she still felt. Had her aunt left town?
“I know what it is.”
She stiffened, her eyes widening. She glanced at the ivory dress to make sure nothing had spilled.
“No one is dancing.” He gestured to the open area before them. The jazz band had played a zippy rendition of Glenn Miller’s Little Brown Jug and was now starting into a bluesy song Goldie didn’t recognize.
“Yes, the lack of dancing is exactly what had me so thrown off.” Goldie hoped he read the teasing in her tone.
“I knew it,” Adrian said. “We’d better fix that. What do you say?” He stood and offered her a hand.
She rose cautiously. “I didn’t know there would be dancing.”
“Is that a problem?”
In the vague lighting, Adrian looked that much more dashing, the way shadows emphasized aspects of light. Her heart began to pound.
“No, no problem.” Trapped in his gaze, she slid her fingers into his.
CHAPTER NINE
ADRIAN LED HER OUT ONTO the dance floor. The band began to serenade at a slower pace, and he slid his arm around her waist, securing her to him. Elephants were tromping in her veins. This is all for show, she told herself. Not because he wanted to hold her close.
The saxophones blended in harmony to the soft shade of drums and singing trumpets. Adrian’s feet knew right where to step, and though Goldie didn’t have the first clue about the moves, his firm hand at her back, the way he turned her and then held her to him again, made her feel like an aficionado.
“You know what you’re doing, I’ll give you that,” Goldie said. “Dancing lessons?”
“For a few years,” he said, swaying her to the sound of crooning trumpets. “You?”
“If you count goofing around in the kitchen with my dad, then yes.”
“That definitely counts. What does your dad do?”
“He’s a bus driver,” she said. The admission had never brought such embarrassment to her cheeks before. There was nothing wrong with that, but here in this company, in this dress, seeing how Adrian lived, the thought made her the slightest bit ashamed. And then she felt ashamed for being ashamed. She loved her dad. He’d been the tender one in her childhood, while her mom had been the exacting one, demanding perfection at every turn.
“That’s cool,” Adrian said.
“It is?”
“Sure.”
The song ended, but Goldie hardly noticed, ensnared in Adrian’s regard as she was. A few other couples had entered the scene as well. She wasn’t entirely sure when that had happened.
“Looks like
