CHAPTER TWO
I WANT IT THAT WAY
“Hello, Maxine,” Arabella said, bracing herself for where the conversation would likely lead. She gripped the cell phone tighter and swiveled her chair away from her desk.
“Hello, dear, how are we this morning?” Maxine’s low, melodic tone did little to soothe Arabella’s frayed nerves. “At one with the universe, I hope.”
“Well . . .” Arabella inhaled a deep breath. She didn’t know what it meant to be “one with the universe,” but she was certain that her personal state of the universe was way off-kilter. “Oh definitely,” Arabella replied in a breezy tone that failed to match her dark mood.
“Good, good . . . good. Did you read through the notes I sent in my latest email?”
“I did.” And Arabella despised nearly every suggestion.
“Ah . . . brilliant . . . brilliant! I do hope we’re on the same page,” Maxine said, but failed to pause for Arabella to respond. “Hip, Hop, Health needs quite a few changes before I come on board,” she continued in her low, singsong voice. Arabella had quickly learned that behind Maxine’s Zen-like persona was a total control freak. “Quite. A. Few.”
Kiss. My. Ass. If there were any other way to save her dance studios from financial ruin, Arabella would jump at the chance. But right now, financial help from the famous holistic fitness guru remained her only hope of survival. Arabella remained silent, fearful that all she could manage was a feeble moan.
“No offense, but the whole . . . hip-hop thing is just so . . . wrong.”
Why didn’t people realize that anything that began with no offense was going to be offensive? “Wrong?” Excuse me?
“Completely, I’m afraid.”
She counted to ten before responding. “Maxine, with all due respect, my Hip, Hop, Health brand is popular and doing just fine. Because of the success, I simply expanded too quickly and so I’m in need of financial backing along with your endorsement, but not a complete change.”
“I can only back what I believe in. Hip-hop is so . . . passé.”
“Dancing is and always will be a fun way to stay fit.”
“Ah . . . you millennials all think that everything has to be . . . fun.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Arabella mumbled.
“We need a balanced approach combining the mind, body, and spirit . . . none of this bouncing and hopping all around the studio to loud music. Peace . . . meditation. Eating clean and lean.”
“We promote a healthy lifestyle at Hip, Hop, Health.”
“No . . . no, no.” Maxine made a low clucking sound. “Ah . . . we must cleanse . . . deepen our awareness of . . . self.”
Arabella was aware that she wanted to hang up, eat dark chocolate, and drink some red wine, the latter two of which were proven to be healthy.
Maxine continued. “I’m thinking we can change the name to Hope, Healing, Health. Brilliant, right? It just came to me. . . . Ah, sometimes I surprise myself. What do you think? Oh, and instead of those wild dance routines, we need to have our students create their own freestyle dances . . . more stretching, swaying . . . chanting, setting the soul free! I’m thinking we need drums, bells. The ideas just keep flowing over me like a waterfall. Are you with me? Can you feel the energy?”
Arabella tried to formulate words but nothing came out of her mouth.
“Arabella?”
She swallowed hard.
“Ah, am I overwhelming you?”
“I’m whelmed, but not overwhelmed,” she replied, but failed to get a chuckle.
“I don’t understand.”
“A little overwhelmed,” Arabella replied in a small voice. She picked up a yellow smiley-face stress ball and started squeezing.
“I can do that sometimes. Oh, Arabella, darling, I can feel tension radiating from you. Breathe deep, Arabella. Come on, with me now.”
Arabella obediently inhaled, sneezed, and, oh gosh, passed a tiny bit of gas. Oh God, had Maxine heard that?
“Ah . . . toxins! I knew it! They must go! Go-oooo! Breathe in . . . breathe out. Better, now?”
“Yes,” Arabella said, but her voice sounded like a croak because she was trying so very hard not to laugh. She tended to have fits of giggles at the worst times.
“Are you sure you’re at one with the universe, Arabella? You don’t seem like you’re at one with the flow of change. First you must be at one with yourself before you can be one with the universe and then all that is.”
What the hell? “I’m pretty sure I’m at one with myself,” Arabella said.
“Ah, a start. Now, on to the next level of oneness.”
“I . . . uh, sure, you mean like being super chill, right? I’ve been at one with, like, that universe whatever thing.” Hadn’t she? Yeah, maybe she had been at one with a bottle of wine, which happened to be last night. And she could sure use a glass of chardonnay the size of her head right about now. She gave the ball another hard squeeze.
“ ‘Super chill’? I suppose that’s one way of putting it. So, are we on the same divine wavelength?”
“I don’t know. How long is your wave?”
“Excuse me?”
Arabella cringed. Wow, note to self. Maxine has no sense of humor. No, they were not on the same page or the same wavelength, or remotely in the same universe. Not even close. “Um, well . . . I guess I understand what you’re saying.” She didn’t have a clue. Sometimes she felt as if living in California was like living on another planet and she was an alien. Growing up in the Midwest hadn’t prepared her for this Zen stuff.
“Good, good.” Maxine drew the words out in a near whisper. “You’re with me, then. I feel we’re finally getting somewhere. Are you with me?”
“It’s a lot to swallow. . . . I mean digest.” Arabella bit her bottom lip.
“Sure . . . sure,” Maxine said. Arabella wondered why the guru felt the need to repeat her words so often. “Give the suggestions some time to sink deeply into your soul.”
What does that even mean? “Okay,” Arabella said, but the only sinking she felt was the sensation in the pit of her stomach.
“Well, I have a sold-out seminar to present in just a bit so I must do some deep meditation to prepare. It was so lovely chatting with you. I hope you experience peace and wellness for the rest of your afternoon.”
“I will, as soon as it’s wine o’clock.”
“Pardon?”
Oh . . . shit. “Nine o’clock. My . . . uh, bedtime.” Wincing, Arabella almost laughed. “You know . . . early to bed, early to rise . . . the early bird gets the worm.” Pressing her lips together, she tried hard not to laugh, although laughing and crying were engaged in a tough tug-of-war at the moment.
“Ah, yes, yes, excellent. Rest is such a vital part of complete wellness,” Maxine continued, droning on and on so slowly that Arabella actually started to feel drowsy. “Have you been drinking the corn-silk tea three times a day like I suggested?”
“I haven’t found any yet.” Not that she’d looked.
“I’ll have my assistant send you some. I have my own brand. It’s quite delicious.”
“You don’t—”
“Oh, I want to have you in tip-top mental shape. We have a lot of work to accomplish. This is going to be spectacular, don’t you agree?”
“I think we need—”
“Well, I’m off!” Maxine added with a surprising burst of volume, startling Arabella into emitting a little squeak.
“Okay . . .” After ending the call, Arabella stared at the phone, wondering how Maxine managed to control the entire conversation. She tossed the stress ball and it hit the wall with a solid whack. “Corn-silk tea? Is that really a thing?” She put the phone down and cradled her head in her hands. “Oh . . . I can’t do this. I have to do this.”
Arabella leaned back in the buttery soft leather chair and tried to hold herself together. At this point one would think she would be used to life smacking her upside the head, but optimism always seemed to trump caution where Arabella’s brain was concerned. “Everyone loves to dance,” she mumbled defensively to herself. While she was open to incorporating meditation and at least some holistic health remedies into her programs, she wasn’t ready to completely change her entire brand. “And fitness should be fun,” she grumbled, wishing she’d been more direct in her conversation with Maxine. But she had to tread carefully. Arabella had found out early in her dealings with Maxine that the popular health guru got her yoga pants in a twist real quick if you dared to disagree with her.
“I need to be more assertive,” Arabella reminded herself with a sigh. Having grown up with parents who fought constantly, she’d spent countless hours in her room and immersed herself in music and dance, drowning out the yelling. She’d left home as soon as she landed her first choreography job. Although Arabella presented herself as being feisty, she hated arguing, despised confrontation, and consequently backed away or fled at the first sign of conflict both in business and in social situations. The only person she consistently argued with was herself, not always understanding if she won the arguments or lost. “Not good for the old love life, that’s for sure,” she said, and then rolled her eyes. “Who am I kidding? What love life?” Being an only child, Arabella had developed a habit of talking to herself, something she thought everybody did only to learn later in life that it wasn’t the case.
After another long, drawn-out sigh, Arabella swiveled her chair around and gazed out the picture window, but the cheerful California sunshine failed to lift her spirits. When was the last time she’d hung out with friends or had a date? She tried to blame her lack of dating on her busy lifestyle. In truth, she’d been trying to find the same endless passion she’d once shared with a certain boy-band heartthrob from her past and always came up short. But she didn’t hold Grady Heart accountable for her failed relationships. Arabella took responsibility for her fears, feelings, and failures. After witnessing her parents placing constant blame on each other, Arabella tried not to play that destructive game. Still, she had to wonder: What might have happened if she hadn’t caught Grady cheating that fateful night?
Was it fair to blame Grady for what had happened after she fled? Maybe not . . . but holding him accountable helped to ease the pain that continued to show up in her brain uninvited.
“Oh, damn.” A hot lump of emotion clogged her throat, but she gave her head a determined shake. Nope, feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t solve anything. She’d found that out long ago. Crying buckets of tears also didn’t solve anything, and puffy eyes were not attractive. “Maybe I need some corn-silk tea,” she said, and managed to chuckle.
When times were tough, Arabella tried to find ways to laugh. Without her sense of humor, she didn’t know how she would have gotten through some of the dark days of her childhood. Her mother laughed, but only when her father wasn’t around. When her father walked into the house, usually late, the whole mood instantly changed and the fighting would begin.
Thankfully, when her parents’ fights were too loud to handle, Arabella would escape to Granny York’s house. She and Granny would bake sugar cookies, listen to music, and dance around the small living room. In a time of chaos, Granny York had been the voice of gentle reason, bringing quiet peace into a world way too loud for a scared little girl.
“Ah, Granny, I miss you.” Arabella couldn’t stop a hot tear from sliding down her cheek. Her grandmother was the only person who knew what had happened after Arabella left Grady, and she had taken her granddaughter’s secret to her grave.
Lost in thought, Arabella watched the palm trees swaying in the breeze, wishing she had time to go to the beach. It occurred to her that perhaps she should sell Hip, Hop, Health and go back to choreography so she could pick and choose her jobs and make time for travel . . . and perhaps she could even seek a relationship. But after she’d left Heartbeat, choreography had lost some of its magic. Like her love for Grady, no other job could live up to the fun she’d had with the Heart brothers.
“You can’t move forward by looking back,” Arabella whispered, and then: “Why am I whispering?” With a groan, she wondered where the stress ball had rolled off to.
Arabella’s stomach rumbled in polite protest over missing lunch, but none of the healthy options going through her head sounded appetizing. She finally grinned, thinking she should go for a big slice of deep-dish pizza or a giant double cheeseburger just to defy Queen Vegan, Maxine. Oh, and a soft, chewy sugar cookie with a glass of whole milk for dessert. Ha!
Her stomach growled in earnest this time.
Arabella patted her midsection. “I hear ya.” In all honesty, she believed in healthy eating and encouraged her clients to choose their food with care. But she wasn’t opposed to treating herself to something decadent here and there. She didn’t consider a bit of dessert cheating.
Seriously, who could live without cherry cheesecake?
Arabella’s tummy gave her an are-you-kidding-me rumble that resembled the sound of a motorcycle revving up. Of course, her weak stomach always reacted to her emotions, usually at the most awkward times, like in a crowded elevator. With a sigh, she spun around and searched through her top drawer in the hope of finding her secret stash of chocolate, but only came up with a mangled peanut butter protein bar. Wrinkling her nose, Arabella unwrapped the top. After taking a sniff, she bit into the bar. It was thick and difficult to chew, giving her molars a workout. “Wow, this is gross. Peanut butter? Uh . . . no.” She tossed the bar onto her desk, deciding to walk down the street for takeout of some sort, but her cell phone rang before she could get up.
“Hi Mom,” Arabella said, raising her eyebrows in surprise at the out-of-the-blue call. She didn’t talk to her mother much these days. “How are you?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light.
“You sound weird.”
“I am weird.”
“What is it? Come clean.”
“I showered.”
“Arabella . . .”
“Wait, I’ve got something stuck in my teeth. What’s up?”
“Are you okay, sweetie?”
“Sure, I’m fine, Mom. Just a little stressed with work.”
“Oh. Well, I just wanted to give you a call before Joe and I leave for our cruise.” She didn’t sound convinced but thankfully let the matter rest.
Arabella forced the gooey so-called peanut butter from her teeth with her tongue and smiled. “Oh, right, I forgot that you leave tomorrow. The trip came up fast. Are you packed?”
“You know me. Of course not. Joe, on the other hand, has been packed since the day we booked the trip.”
“That’s Joe for ya.” Arabella laughed. Her mother and Joe were opposites, but the two complemented each other in a way that her mother and father had not. It wasn’t until after their divorce that Arabella had found out her parents’ arguments had stemmed from her father cheating. The infidelity had been difficult for Arabella to forgive, but her mother insisted that they simply weren’t meant for each other and had stayed together for her sake. Arabella didn’t have the heart to tell her mother that she wished she had saved them all the angst and had divorced early on, but instead, she thanked her mother for her sacrifice. Another odd twist was that after the divorce her parents were finally on friendly terms. “We were both at fault,” her mother had explained, and Arabella respected her parents for making peace, but she’d vowed that she would never tolerate cheating nor would she stay in a relationship for the “sake of the children.”
“So, how are things, sweetie?”
“Oh, fine,” Arabella replied in an airy tone. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin her mother’s dream vacation with anything negative.
“That’s so good to hear. You work so hard! I’m proud of you.”
Arabella blinked away hot moisture stinging her eyes, wishing she could pour out her troubles to her mother. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
No! “Yes, just, you know, like I said, working.” Stretched to the limit. Full of anxiety.
“Well, I know it’s really early to ask, but do you think you could break away from business and come to Cincinnati for the Christmas holidays?”
“Early? Mom, it’s August.”
“Right, so time to plan ahead.”
Arabella felt a pang of guilt. “I don’t know. . . .”
“No pressure. I just miss you.”
“I miss you too, Mom.”
“Are you seeing anyone special?” her mother asked with such longing that Arabella almost wanted to fib.
“I’m afraid not,” Arabella replied, knowing how much her mother longed for a grandchild.
“Maybe California isn’t the place for a nice Midwestern girl like you. Ever think of moving back home? We could use a Hip, Hop, Health in Cincinnati. You can run your business from here, couldn’t you?”
“Oh, Mom . . .” Arabella said. Her parents tried hard to make up for the early years from hell. “I’ll look at my calendar and see when I can come for a visit.”
“That’s all I can ask for,” her mother said, but then paused.
“Mom? Is there something else you wanted to tell me?”
“Well, it isn’t really my place to tell you. . . .”
“Mom! You can’t say that and then not explain.” Arabella looked around for the stress ball, certain she was going to need it.
“Your father is getting married again.”
“I know. Cynthia seems . . . okay, I guess. I only met her a couple of times.”
“Well, I thought you might want to know that your father is planning to sell Granny York’s house sometime soon.”
“Oh.” Arabella’s stomach dropped unpleasantly, like she was going over the crest of a roller coaster.
“I’m sure he plans to call you, but just in case he doesn’t, I wanted you to know. I thought you might be interested in buying it. Believe me, I know how much that house means to you.”
Arabella thought of the little brick house with the big front porch and the tiny backyard. “Wow.” She felt an ache settle in her chest. “Why is he selling?” Arabella had vowed to keep Granny’s house in the family.
“Apparently, Cindy doesn’t like it and wants to move out into the suburbs rather than stay in the little house in town.”
“She prefers Cynthia.”
“I know.”
Arabella chuckled, thankful she’d gotten her warped sense of humor from her mother.
“I . . . well, I thought you might consider buying it and moving back here? Anyway, I wanted to give you a heads-up. You might not have until Christmas.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll talk to Dad about it.”
“You didn’t hear it from me!”
“Okay, I understand. Mum’s the word.”
“I thought grease was the word.”
“Great, now I’ve got that song in my head.”
“Me too! Wait, just switched to ‘Greased Lightning.’ ”
“Go, greased lightning!” Arabella laughed again, remembering how she used to love doing the movie’s finger-pointing, heel-tapping dance with Granny York. “Hey, I hope you and Joe have a great time on the cruise. Take lots of pictures, okay?” Arabella forced a heavy dose of false cheerfulness into her tone.
“You know I’m famous for cutting off heads and putting my finger over the lens in photos.”
“True.” Arabella had to laugh.
“But Joe bought a fancy new camera and he’s been playing with it for weeks. Strange that there’s no film involved.” Her mother, a former florist, wasn’t a fan of technology, but Joe, a retired science teacher, loved getting every new gadget on the market. “Did you know that Joe bought me a round robot vacuum sweeper?”
“I didn’t know that,” Arabella said, and had to smile.
“Scares the daylights out of the cat. And I’m perfectly capable of sweeping the rug.”
“Sounds like Joe is just trying to pamper you.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do with my free time?”
“Go on a cruise. Relax and have lots of fun.”
“Joe says that’s the plan.”
“A good one. Tell Joe to take tons of pictures.”
“I will. I love you, Bella.”
“I love you too.” Arabella smiled at her mother’s enthusiasm, but after ending the call she suddenly felt like crying. Oh, maybe she should just chuck it all, buy her granny’s house, and move back to Cincinnati. She could open a small dance studio, spend more time with her mother and good old Joe. Maybe meet someone? Start a family?
The ache in her chest intensified at the thought of holding her child in her arms. Perhaps it was time to make some big changes in her life. . . .
Damn, she needed a hug. She needed lunch. She needed a giant sugar cookie, her grandmother’s house, and an unexpected miracle.