Learning to Swim by Cheryl Klam Read Free Book Online Page A

talking about.
    She followed me out onto the freshly waxed dance floor and stood behind me as I gazed into the wall ofmirrors. Suddenly, there were twenty polyester pear girls and twenty tiny black-haired old ladies.
    “I was just curious,” I said, obviously annoyed.
    Twenty Alices raised their eyebrows.
    “Just
curious,” I repeated.
    “Okay, then,” she said finally. “I would be delighted to be your maid of honor.”
    “Traditional cake or nontraditional?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer to that. Barbie and I had discussed wedding cakes in detail (we always discussed wedding stuff when Barbie was in Barbie bliss), and we agreed that weddings and anything associated with them should be traditional. Otherwise, why bother? I always thought that it was sad that Barbie never got a wedding of her own, though. I was sure she and my dad would have gotten hitched if he hadn't been
already married!
    Alice sat down on one of the regal-looking ballroom chairs. “I'll have to think about that one.”
    “All weddings should have white cake.” I emphasized this statement by twirling in front of the mirrors.
    Alice just put her hands over her face in defeat.
    A half hour later, we moved on to the dining room. The staff was prepping for the dinner rush, so the place had been closed off to Tippecanoe members a few minutes before we arrived on the scene. All the tables were empty—except for one. That was the table whereMora's mother was holding court with all her obnoxiously dressed we're-just-as-good-as-the-Hiltons (yeah right!) friends.
    Since Warthog had this dumb rule about us maids not talking in the dining room while club patrons were there, I was determined to wipe the baseboards as quickly as possible so that Alice and I could continue our fascinating bridal discussion.
    She and I split up, each taking a side of the room. I was speeding along, almost to the halfway point, when I heard Mrs. Cooper's friend in the big-brimmed yellow sun hat say, “How's Mora? Is she still dating Ed's son?” (Ed was short for Edward McKnight, Keith's dad.)
    My hand froze in midair—damp dirty cloth and all.
    “Oh yes,” Mrs. Cooper said while playing with her peach-colored Yves Saint Laurent neck scarf. (Mora was truly the spitting image of her mom.) “I have the feeling that in five years I might be planning a wedding.”
    Obviously Alice was aware of my distress and frozen hand, because she came over and whispered, “Why don't you start doing the club room? I'll finish in here.”
    But I couldn't move. My eyes were still fixed on Mora's mother as she gazed at her perfectly manicured nails.
    “Five years? Mora will just be out of college,” the sun-hat friend said. “Isn't that a little young to be getting married?”
    “So?” Mora's mom replied. “Rick and I were college sweethearts. And Keith is a wonderful, responsible boy.”
    Even though Alice was tugging on my frozen hand and I knew I should leave ASAP, I still couldn't move.
    “When do you leave for the beach?” the other stuffy woman with the huge tinted Dior sunglasses asked.
    “Tonight, as soon as Rick gets off work. He's been assigned a case that's had him working night and day.”
    Suddenly Mora's mother glanced at me.
“Perdone, camarera,”
she said, shaking her iced tea glass at me.
“Más té helado, por favor.”
    I was almost certain that I was delusional. “Excuse me?”
    “Oh—you speak English,” she said, giggling. “Well, that's refreshing, isn't it?” Then she grinned and looked around the table, waiting for the applause. Although she didn't get any applause, she did get some laughter.
    “Really, Bitsy. You
are
terrible,” said I-wear-my-ridiculous-sunglasses-inside woman.
    “It's true, though,” said sun-hat lady. “You need to speak Spanish to communicate to any of the help these days. It took twenty minutes to explain to Isabella that I wanted her to dust the blinds in my bedroom!”
    At least the acknowledgment of my