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I’m going into town today to sign up for salsa lessons. I keep thinking about how much fun we’d have together. (AKA: How much fun I’d have laughing at your lack of coordination.) I’ll let you know if I see an Antonio Banderas lookalike—which I’m still convinced is the only reason you agreed to learn how to salsa in the first place. For the record, I disagree on your choice of Antonios. I’d prefer an Antonio Sabato Jr. lookalike any day of the week.
I spend the morning by the pool, and when the clouds roll in, Beatrice lets me take her car into town so I can sign up at the dance studio.
A tall brunette woman with long red nails greets me at the counter when I walk in. “Welcome to Soul. How can I help you?”
“Hi. I’d like to sign up for salsa lessons. I looked up the information on your website, and it said you have classes twice a week in the evening.”
She claps, and the gold bangles on her wrists jingle. “Are you a novice, or a seasoned salsa dancer?”
I chew my bottom lip. “I’m a total beginner.”
“Ah. The class you saw posted on our website is for our more seasoned dancers. But we have sign-ups for our beginner class in the fall.”
My shoulders droop. “I won’t be here after August.”
She clicks her tongue. “We do offer a beginner Rumba class.”
My ears perk up. “Oh, that could be fun.”
“It’s very fun. It’s slower and more sensual than salsa. What’s your name, lovely?”
“I’m Charly.”
She extends her hand for me to shake. “I’m Gianna. I own this place. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Charly.” She slides a form across the counter, and hands me a pen. “Will you be joining with a partner?”
I shake my head. “No. Is that ... am I supposed to have a partner?”
“No, of course not. Sometimes couples sign up together. But we have plenty of solo dancers.”
Sadness churns in my gut. “I’m doing this for my mother. She recently passed, and we were supposed to do this together.”
“Oh, Charly. I’m so sorry.” Gianna grips my hands. “You’re going to dance beautifully, and your mother will clap for you in the clouds.”
“Thank you.” Tears blur my vision, and I smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a downer.”
She waves a hand. “Please. You don’t ever have to apologize for grieving. My mother died many moons ago, and I still miss her to this day. She used to love to watch me dance. Every time I step onto the floor, I dance for her.”
“That’s beautiful.”
Gianna goes over the form, and I sign at the bottom. “You don’t need to wear heels, but I always recommend it.” She winks. “Heels make you feel sexier.”
I laugh. “You sound like my friend, Beatrice.”
“Beatrice Holden?”
I nod. “I’m staying at Sunnyside Inn. Do you know her?”
“I love that woman. She’s always referring out-of-towners to my studio.”
“She’s wonderful.”
After Gianna puts me down for the beginner class twice a week, I say goodbye and head over to the coffee shop next door to check in with Jenny.
“Hey, girl! Look how tan you are. I’m so jealous.”
I chuckle as I stick my earbuds into place. “I’ve been taking full advantage of that pool.”
“You look so vibrant and happy.”
