Miss Oliver At Home

Chapter Eight

The next afternoon, at four o'clock sharp, Olivia and Lillian went upstairs to see Alan's home and studio. He rented both the small apartments on the third floor, with the first being his living space. It was a bit untidy and lacked simple comforts. Lillian raised her eyebrows at Olivia as if to telegraph, "Bachelors!"

The second apartment had been transformed into the neatest little studio imaginable. The rooms were opened into one large space, with a small bench and cubbyhole in the corner where Alan stored dance shoes and equipment. If his apartment had been untidy, the studio was immaculate. The dark wood floor was stylishly new, and the full-length mirrors that graced every wall showed no signs of dust or fingerprints. Along one wall ran a barre, and the large windows looked out on the backyard, which was quite pretty from so high up.

Alan beamed with pride at the girls' complements, and brought out half a dozen records. Turning up the music, he offered his hand to Olivia.

"Let's see what you can do," he said.

Off they went.

The next hour flew by. First, they danced the Foxtrot, then the Viennese Waltz, a Quickstep and a Tango. From one to the next they went, moving in near perfect time. Alan was thrilled at how easily Olivia matched his footwork and adjusted quickly when she did not know the steps. For her part, she was surprised at how graceful Alan was. His long arms and legs seemed to aid rather than hinder him, and he kept her skimming along so that her feet hardly touched the floor.

Never had Olivia danced with anyone so well. The boys she had partnered over the years usually had no idea what to do with their feet and left her to push and pull them about. Now, dancing with Alan, it was easy.

When they'd finally gone through the basic dances, Alan took Lillian onto the floor and gave her a lesson. She might have argued that she needed help to appear "presentable" at Aunt Phyllis's Christmas party, but she was quite good herself.

"I'm impressed," said Alan, after they'd collapsed on the bench in the corner, and he'd made them laugh with jokes and stories about his students and partners. "Miss Oliver, you will be ready to start teaching immediately, and Miss Lillian will be 'presentable' in no time." He gave Olivia a schedule to look over. "I've got a student coming up now, but look over at this and let me know your decision."

"Thank you," said Olivia, out of breath and beaming. Lillian pinched her helpfully. It seemed that both of them had already made up their minds.

The door opened suddenly as Alan's student entered, giving Olivia and Lillian a bit of a shock. Seraphina Anthony strode in as if she owned the place, her blue eyes dazzlingly bright and every coal-black hair on her head in perfect place.

"Olivia Oliver! What a surprise!" Seraphina darted forward and clasped Olivia in a tight embrace. "I didn't know that you were taking lessons from Mr. Carey! How delightful!"

Seraphina Anthony was the daughter of Reverend Charles Anthony, the minister at Beverly Presbyterian, where the Olivers had attended church for generations. She seemed full of ceaseless energy and was always bustling about doing "church work" while also managing to keep up quite a string of beaux. Seraphina always sat in the front row at church, wearing tall and vibrantly plumed hats to make up for her small stature and, for some reason, Olivia had never been able to decide if she liked her or not. She thought that maybe she would have liked her, if it were not for the strange glint in the Seraphina's eyes when she looked her way.

"Hello, Seraphina! How do you do? We weren't taking lessons, exactly." Olivia drew a breath. "Mr. Carey is our neighbor now. We live just downstairs."

Seraphina's unnaturally large, bright eyes grew larger still. "My goodness! I'd heard that you were moving house, of course, but I never thought - that is, I didn't realize..." She seemed unusually at a loss for words.