Page 34 of The Harvey Girls

Twenty-Six

The community hall was past the train depot and the Harvey Car garage, and up the hill toward some of the smaller residences of park and railroad workers.

It was built of logs on the outside—as so many buildings in Grand Canyon Village were—and was just one big room on the inside with a stage at the far end.

Chairs had been set up around the edges of the space, and there was a long table on one side with light refreshments.

Someone had popped a huge bowl of popcorn, and there was a jar of jelly beans in every color.

There were also bottles of Coca-Cola and Dr. Pepper.

In the middle was a large punch bowl surrounded by glass cups.

At the moment it was empty, but it wouldn’t be for long.

“Make way! Make way!” called a distinctive brogue that could only belong to Nora.

She was cradling about eight bottles of Royal Crown Ginger Ale in her arms and barely made it to the punch bowl before several slipped and fell the last few inches to the table.

Billie and Charlotte quickly reached out to corral them before they rolled to the floor.

“Well, look at you two early birds! Party girls like you don’t want to miss a minute, now do you?

” she said sarcastically. “All right, since you’re here, make yourselves useful and start uncapping those bottles.

” She pulled a short metal bottle opener out of her pocket and tossed it onto the table before leaving again.

Billie picked up the well-used item and read the writing on the handle.

“?‘Drink Ballantine Ale she was a spirited dancer, so her hand was requested over and over.

Billie got up to do the Charleston when a crowd gathered on the floor—she felt less conspicuous that way.

She’d only done it a few times before, mugging around with friends back in Table Rock, never in public.

But she found she wanted to be part of things, to join the group laughing and pumping their arms. She didn’t want to spend her life sitting next to Charlotte, who declined every request to dance.

“Well, you’re an old sack of flour,” Henny told Charlotte as she collapsed back into her chair, dabbing at the shine on her forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re sitting there as cute as a button, making all the boys weep!”

This was not true. Cute was not really a term that applied to Charlotte, though she was attractive in a dark-eyed, pensive sort of way. Nor had she declined many offers to dance. Once she turned down a few, the fellows seemed to sense that it wasn’t worth the effort of asking.

“Don’t you know how?” asked Henny after a few thirsty gulps of Dr. Pepper.

“I do know,” said Charlotte. “I just don’t really care for it. I’m happy to sit here and watch.”

“Just one dance!” said Henny. “The way the fellas outnumber us, every girl has to do her part.”

Charlotte glanced at Billie, who said, “If you will, I will. And I know you’re a much better dancer than me.”

“How do you know that?” said Henny. “We haven’t seen her so much as tap her feet!”

But now that Billie knew just how wealthy Charlotte had once been, she could guess that she’d had dance lessons—and likely a lot of other sorts of lessons, too.

“Well,” Billie stammered. “She just seems graceful, doesn’t she?”

Henny narrowed her eyes at Charlotte, then nodded shrewdly. “She does at that.”

The door to the community hall opened, and in walked Will.

His thick black hair was neatly combed and recently cut.

He was clean-shaven and wore a light blue shirt with navy serge trousers and suit jacket, both of which were better cut than his Harvey driver’s uniform.

His broad shoulders had room to move, and his sleeves came down over his wrists properly.

It gave him a far more dignified air than the ill-fitting uniform.

Charlotte saw him first and took a moment to absorb this adjusted version. My goodness , she thought, and smiled. He caught her eye and smiled back. He headed across the room toward her just as another song started up.

Henny had waved over a couple of young men, and suddenly one was standing right in front of Charlotte, obstructing her view of Will.

“This is Ernie. He’s a brakeman for the railroad,” said Henny. He was a bit doughy in his tweed jacket and slightly grease-stained shirt, and he grinned at her like she was his next meal.

“Oh… dear,” said Charlotte, shaking her head at his extended hand.

“Now, come on, you promised!” said Henny.

“Just one dance,” murmured Billie. “It’s not a jail sentence.”

Charlotte glanced up at the man with his toothy smile. That’s just what it is , she thought, but her hesitation was becoming uncouth. She took his hand—did it have to be quite so clammy?—and allowed him to lead her onto the floor.

The song was “April Showers,” and whoever had taken over at the piano was belting out a slightly up-tempo version. “Life is not a highway strewn with flowers. Still, it holds a goodly share of bliss,” he crooned.

Well, this highway certainly isn’t strewn with flowers , thought Charlotte as she pasted on a good-sport smile and let Ernie muscle her around the dance floor. It was a simple foxtrot, for goodness’ sake, not a tango. Why was he gripping her so tightly?

A man named Robert—a park ranger, he inserted quickly, as if it were a part of his name—came to claim Billie’s hand for a dance. He was tall and so cleanly shaven as to look almost baby-faced. His smile was warm when she accepted.

“I’m really not very good,” Billie warned as Robert led her to the dance floor. She looked over at Charlotte, who was already dancing quite elegantly with Ernie.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re just fine,” Robert said good-naturedly.

She didn’t know how to tell him that she wasn’t being modest. He figured it out soon enough when her knee slammed into his shin. He let out a stifled yelp of pain.

“I’m so sorry,” whispered Billie. “We can stop.”

“Not at all! Say, would you…”

Like to do anything but dance? she thought. Yes, I’d rather dig ditches, as a matter of fact.

“Would you like me to give you some pointers?” Robert wasn’t dancing so much as shuffling back and forth at this point, avoiding any sudden moves that might result in more bruises.

“You don’t have to,” said Billie.

“I really would like to! That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I could use the help,” she admitted.

“It’s easy. Just look down at your feet and follow what my feet do, only backward. So when I move my left foot forward, you move your right foot back.”

Billie practiced for a few steps. It really wasn’t so hard.

“Hey, you’re good at this!” Robert was a bundle of enthusiasm, despite the fact that a four-year-old could have followed such simple directions.

“Now you’re going to do two slow steps back, one quick step to the side, then feet together, like this.

” He held her firmly at the waist so she could feel which way to go, murmuring “Back, back, side, together. Slow, slow, quick-quick” as he guided her around the dance floor.

After a few minutes she didn’t have to look at her feet anymore, but only had to pay attention to the gentle pressure from his hands to know where to go. She grinned at him. “I’m doing it!”

He beamed. “You’re the next Zelda Fitzgerald!”

Charlotte glanced over at Billie, who was dancing with a boy with slicked-back brown hair.

He’d certainly overdone it with the pomade, but Billie didn’t seem to mind as she smiled and tried to keep up with him.

Charlotte could see he was murmuring to Billie, who kept looking down at her feet as if trying to follow instructions.

They got in step and Billie grinned gratefully.