Dancing With the Devil Read Free Page A

now.
    â€œMackenzie,” her father said, putting down his fork and knife. “How many times do I have to say it? The housekeeper must have tossed it when she couldn’t get the stains out. Guess you shouldn’t have dropped your food in your lap. It’s your own fault.”
    Mac knew this argument never ended well, but Lily diverted attention before it went any further.
    â€œRAH! RAH! RAH! RAH! RAH!” Lily hollered over everyone.
    Mac glanced at Barb, who gave her a you’re-the-one-who-brought-it-up look and kept at her meatball.
    â€œOkay, Lil, okay! All I meant was that when everyone acts all patriotic the one day of the year it’s because they’re supposed to. Like, why not be that way all the time if you really mean it? If I wasn’t forced to help decorate the stupid clubhouse every year I’d never set foot in there.”
    Lily said, “But when you went to the dance, you were five, like me, right?”
    Mac shrugged.
    Lily looked from her sister to her father and said, “Tell me again the story about when Kenzie was little, Mama.”
    â€œI bet you can tell it better than I can.”
    Lily sat up straight and took a deep breath. She recited, “You and Daddy worked together and you were friends and he was married to another lady but she got sick and then she went to heaven, but you and Daddy were still friends for a long, long, long, long, long time and then you got married. The end.” Lily slumped back in her chair and panted in her best Academy Award dramatic actress way. “Oh wait!” she cried, sitting up straight again. “And you helped him sometimes with his little girl who was Kenzie and then you moved away and when you came back you saw a big girl in a store who you didn’t know was Kenzie all growed up and when you turned around you saw Daddy and then you fell in love and got married and had me!”
    Stan tousled Lily’s hair. “Nice performance, Princess.”
    Mac raised her eyebrows. “Ten or eleven isn’t grown up, Lily.”
    â€œYou don’t even remember your first Father-Daughter Dance?” Lily asked, her eyes wide. “I’m going to remember mine forever and ever.”
    â€œAll I remember is my dress.” Mac grabbed a broccoli tree. Her father rolled his eyes.
    Unable to resist, Lily added, “What did your dress look like, Kenzie?”
    Giving her father a pointed glare, Mac said, “It was red and white, I can tell you that much. And it was the last gift my mom ever gave me.”
    Stan ignored her last comment. “Let’s see, you must’ve just turned six, because you can’t go unless you’re about to start kindergarten.”
    Barb smiled at Mackenzie. “Maybe you were too young to remember, but I can still see you all dressed up in your finery. Do you remember those dress rehearsals we had, and all the practice fixing your hair beforehand? You made me write out the instructions for your dad on exactly how to do it because I was moving the week before the dance.”
    Mac looked at Barb. She didn’t recall Barb ever taking care of her after her mom died, or fussing over her like that. “You fixed my hair?”
    â€œDon’t you remember, honey? You said you wanted curly hair like mine, and I groaned because I always hated my curls, and we both flopped over backwards onto the bed and laughed and laughed until we couldn’t breathe. We went to the store and bought a curling iron and made tons of banana curls until you looked like Shirley Temple.”
    Mackenzie was stunned silent. None of this sounded even remotely familiar.
    â€œOf course,” Barb continued, “you had no idea who Shirley Temple was, so we rented a bunch of her old movies the next weekend. You don’t remember this at all? We made popcorn and your dad got mad because we had just knocked the bowl over and got a grease stain on the sofa. Remember