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Judy had been the director of the center for over twenty-five years and Malcolm had encountered no better human being than the sweet soul standing next to him. She barely came to his chin but was a dynamo of energy with soft chestnut hair that brushed her shoulders, a face well-lined with character, and elegant arms that matched her trim form. She’d been a member of the Dominican order when she was younger, and he had no clue why she’d left, and didn’t know her well enough to ask. What he did know was that each evening or afternoon he shared with her made him feel like a better man.
It kept him volunteering at her center each week.
A slow song started, and the room dimmed a few notches. Several other volunteers appeared, shooing both he and Judy aside so they could mingle with the kids.
Malcolm smiled at several of the boys he often played basketball with. None of them were very good, which made him perfect to teach them the game. He’d always stunk at sports, other than running. He’d been a fine cross-country runner and had been on the Tulane track team back so many years ago it didn’t bear thinking about.
“You gonna dance, Mr. H.?” one of the boys asked mischievously, eyeing a cluster of girls nearby.
“You want to dance with me, Carter?”
“No way. I’m a boy.” Carter laughed, rolling his eyes comically. “You’re supposed to dance with a girl. Like my mother. But she’s not here.”
“Well, there is nothing wrong with dancing with a friend. Or by yourself. You do you, Carter,” Malcolm said.
One of the girls, Bea, smiled shyly at him, obviously overhearing Carter’s remark about dancing. She laughed because Carter laughed but didn’t take her eyes off of the boy. In a true show of male obliviousness, Carter ignored her.
“Shall we?” Malcolm said, holding out his arm to Bea.
She looked confused. “What?”
“Shall we dance, Bea?”
She looked at Carter before nodding like a friendly puppy and taking Malcolm’s arm. He led her onto the floor, complimenting her dress, which had a glittery overlay. Bea wore a floppy red bow pinned against her straight red hair. Malcolm showed her how to hold her arms and then swept her around as best he could. A few Ursuline girls danced with some of the other residents, but most looked to have taken a break.
Bea danced enthusiastically for several minutes then broke away suddenly, abandoning him in the middle of the song. For a moment, Malcolm stood there stupidly.
Until Judy saved him.
“She does that sometimes,” Judy said, placing her hand on his shoulder and swaying to the rhythm of the song. “Too much contact can overwhelm Bea and she just, poof, disappears.”
“Remind me to thank the girl later,” he said, curling Judy into his embrace and waltzing toward the perimeter.
“Why?” she asked, peering up at him with warm brown eyes that reminded him of the walnut cabinets that had lined hisgrand-mère’s kitchen. Judy looked so different in his arms. Better than he’d ever expected.
“A thank-you for leaving me out here by myself. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been rescued by my lady on a white steed.”
Judy glanced down at her shoes. “They’re actually black. And they’re pumps.”
“You are a delightful woman,” Malcolm said, wishing the song would never end. Maybe after the dance, he could ask Judy out for a cup of coffee.
Suddenly he was as nervous as a boy holding a boutonniere and meeting his date’s father for the first time. He wanted Judy to like him, to see beyond his millions in the bank, to see a man worthy of her attention.
Even though he knew he couldn’t hold a candle to her.
“And you are an old fool if you think so.”
Malcolm smiled. “Never enjoyed being called an old fool more.”
Judy laughed and looked pleased at his flirting.
Life felt extraordinarily good at that moment.
Like anything was possible.
* * *
THISWASN’TGOINGto work.
