Rom-Com Collection

The DJ started the song. Mr. and Mrs. Holland stayed put. “This is when you dance, Pops. Goggy.”

They didn’t move.

Suddenly, Lorena Creech lurched to her feet, knocking her chair over. “You’re what?” she screeched, pointing to the woman in the paper-bag dress. “You’re not his date! I’m his date!”

Yep. Definitely getting her keys.

“Wow,” Faith said. “We are certainly entertaining tonight. Uh, enjoy the music, everyone.” She gestured to the DJ, who cranked up the volume, then put the mic down and walked out of the barn.

Poor kid, to have done all this work and have the night ruined by badly behaved adults. Nevertheless, a few couples were going out onto the dance floor.

Levi went over to the Holland table. “What do you mean, we’re not dating?” Lorena was saying to Faith’s dad. “Of course we’re dating!”

“I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding,” John said, wincing. “We’re not dating. I’m sorry.”

“As you should be,” Mrs. Johnson said. “Your children have been telling you what this woman was up to for weeks, but do you listen? No. You don’t.”

“He’s got better taste than you,” murmured the paper-bag woman, which made Lorena swell.

“Do you have a ride home, Mrs. Creech?” Levi asked, trying not to look directly at her. “I don’t want you driving.”

“I’ll call a cab, Mr. Uptight. And don’t worry. I never drink and drive.”

“I never drink at all,” said the other woman, her voice prim.

“No, I bet you don’t!” Lorena said. “Too busy talking about your mucus production! That’s it. I’m leaving. John Holland, you’ve broken my heart.”

“So sorry,” John said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Um, also, Jane, I’m not dating anyone. Sorry.”

“Well, for heaven’s sake,” the bag lady said, tossing her napkin on the table. “Why was I invited, then? I’m leaving, too. What a waste of time.”

“At least you got fed, didn’t you?” Mrs. Johnson said. “Not that it was enjoyable, watching you lay waste to three pounds of raw vegetables, mind you. And, John, you are an idiot when it comes to women. Shameful.”

The two women left, and the clueless DJ started the Perry Como song for the second time. Levi bent down to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Holland. “Listen, you two,” he said. “Faith worked really hard on this party. Why don’t you dance together and show her you appreciate it?” He gave them his sternest police chief stare.

“Who’d want to dance with him?” Mrs. Holland snipped.

“My arthritis is killing me,” said her husband.

“Better move around a little, then,” Levi said. “For Faith, if not for anything else. She adores you two.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“Fine. Let’s get it over with,” Mrs. Holland said. “He’s right. Faith did all this for us, you ingrate.”

“I’m not ungrateful. I love what she’s done.”

“Prove it,” Levi said. “Get up there.”

“Fine. My suffering continues.” Mr. Holland sighed. He stood up and extended his hand. Mrs. Holland took it.

The song started for the third time, and as the old Hollands assumed the position, Levi was almost sure they were smiling.

Faith was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

FAITH HAD FOUND A PLACE under the deck where she was fairly sure she wouldn’t be found. The grass was cool and damp, but who cared? Better to hide here and get grass-stained than go back to the party. If she was found, she might stick a fork in someone’s eye.

She took a long pull from the bottle of wine she’d appropriated.

Though she knew it was pointless, Faith let herself imagine what tonight would’ve been like if her mom were here. That she’d have tilted her head against Dad’s shoulder and whispered something to make him laugh. There’d be no need for Lorenas or vegan zealots, and, somehow, Mom would work her firm magic on Goggy and Pops, would help Honor relax, laugh with Pru, dance with Jack, and maybe, just maybe, have some words for Faith, too.

The grief slipped around her like a heavy cape, enveloping her. She didn’t deserve to miss her mother, but, dear God, she did.

“Hey.”

Faith jumped. “Hi, Levi,” she said, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. Her achy heart sped up.

“Drinking alone?” he asked.

“Yep. Tonight, I think it’s more than justified.”

Levi sat down next to her. “So this has been...” His voice trailed off.

“Terrifying?” she suggested, taking another pull. “Because really, what other word works here?”

“Memorable.” There might’ve been a smile in his voice, but it was too dark to tell.

“Memorable. Your word is better.”

“Were you crying just now?” he asked, his voice quiet.

For some reason, his question made her throat tighten again. “A little.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Didn’t say anything at all, and it was kind of nice, just having him there at her side. She felt chilly all of a sudden. Wondered what he’d do if she leaned her bare shoulder against his.

“They’re dancing, you know,” he said after a minute.

She shot him a look. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“Oh. Good.” She looked back at her hands. The waterproof mascara was not tearproof.

From up above came the shrill and adorable voice of young Michael Jackson. Footsteps thudded more or less in time to the music, indicating that people were dancing.

“This place is beautiful, Faith,” Levi said, and all of a sudden, Faith’s toes curled in her shoes, because...well, because he’d come to find her.