Waltz of Her Life - Page 147/229

"Yes," she told him. "They all do. They get coaching sessions and choreographing sessions all the time.

Stephen shook his head.

They spent the next few minutes talking about themselves and their lives. Stephen had grown up in Cincinnati. He had received his engineering degree from Ohio State. He kept asking Linda questions about life in a rural community, and how she'd come to decide to be a nurse. She told him all about candy-striping at County General during the summers, leaving out the parts about scrambling to get emesis pans beneath the mouths of vomiting patients.

Stephen told Linda all about playing Little League baseball, about meeting Pete Rose when he was twelve years old, and how he'd half frozen to death at a Bengal's playoff game a few years ago. Halfway through his discussion about that he stopped himself. "My god," he said. "I must be boring you half to death. Women aren't used to that kind of thing."

"Actually, I remember that day," she said. "I had to work. I put on hose and cable tights under my nurse pantsuit and still wore a sweater under my heaviest coat. The bus was late. They couldn't start it! But I made it. I can't imagine people sitting outside in the cold like that, for hours. The emergency room was all set to take in dozens of people with frostbite."

Daisy suddenly strode up to their table, when "Les Bicyclettes d'Enfant," a waltz, started to play. "Can I kidnap him from you for a waltz?" she asked. Linda nodded, and off they went. She started to watch them, noting how Stephen looked down at his feet too much until Daisy put a delicately manicured finger underneath his chin and turned his gaze upward. Daisy spoke to him continually while they danced. Linda realized that she must be his teacher.

Someone tapped her shoulder from behind. She turned around to see a tall man with chiseled features and smooth skin. He wore a nice dress shirt and slacks, just like all the men students in the studio. In formal, measured tones he said "May I have this waltz?"

Linda turned herself to him. "Sure," she said, wondering when she'd ever seen him in the studio. He reached down to her with a strong, gentlemanly hand and she placed her fingertips into it daintily, allowing him to help her out of her chair. Once they were on the floor, facing each other, he took her into dance position masterfully and gracefully, as if they'd danced before. But she swore she'd never seen him before.