and drew in a deep breath.
“I’ve wanted to ask you about the dance. How was it?”
Her eyes brightened. “Fun. I had a blast, and Dad didn’t go all hyper on me.”
“Did he like the dress?”
“I guess. I showed it to him and he didn’t tell me to take it to the trash barrel and burn it. We don’t actually have a trash barrel, but he says that when he hates whatever I’m wearing.” She paused and then added, “He says that a lot. If he chose my clothes, I’d look like a nun.”
“So if he doesn’t want you to burn something, that’s his stamp of approval?”
“Yeah.”
I grinned. That sounded like Rocco.
Kaylene looked down at her feet. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” I needed to collect Owen from the daycare center, but I could talk.
Once more Kaylene hesitated. “I’ve got a problem with my dad,” she said, “and I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, is he being a dad again?” I meant it as a joke, but she took me seriously.
“I’m in this group of girls around my age that my dad wanted me to join. It’s part of Boys and Girls Club and it’s for daughters being raised by single fathers. We go over things that mothers would normally tell their daughters, and other stuff, too. I’ve made a lot of friends in the group.”
“Cool,” I said. It sounded like a great program.
“The leader decided it would be a good bonding experience to have a dance for fathers and daughters. All of us are excited about it. I have my dress from the school dance, so Dad wouldn’t need to buy me anything new.”
If she told me Rocco wasn’t willing to take his daughter to the dance I would be terribly disappointed in him. “Your dad doesn’t want to go?”
Kaylene’s face tightened and for a moment it looked as if she was struggling to hold back tears. “Dad said he’d go if he had to.”
Such enthusiasm.
“But he said no way was he going to dance.”
“What?”
“Dad says he doesn’t dance.”
“Oh Kaylene, I’m so sorry. What would you like me to do?” I’d try to help her, but I wasn’t sure there was anything I could say that would change Rocco’s mind.
“Would you talk to him?” She folded her hands as if praying. “Please, Nichole, you’re my only hope. Dad thinks you’re classy. He said he never knew a woman who ate pizza with a knife and fork.”
I struggled to hide a smile.
“Will you?”
I hesitated, but not because I wasn’t willing to help; I didn’t know what to say other than that this dance and this group of friends were important to his daughter and he should reconsider.
“I’ll do my best, but I don’t know what I can do other than talk to your dad.”
“You have to, you have to convince him,” she said. “It’d be horrifying if my dad sat through the whole night while all the other girls were dancing with their dads.”
I agreed. Kaylene would be embarrassed in front of her friends and the group leader.
“I don’t know that your father will listen to me,” I told her, “and I don’t know that he’d appreciate me butting into your family business.”
“I’ll tell him I asked you to talk to him, so if he gets mad it’ll be on me.” Her eyes were wide with appeal and hope.
I could see how important this was to her. “All I can do is try,” I said. “I’m not making any promises, but I’ll do my best.”
She smiled and then, catching me by surprise, she tossed her arms around me and gave me a hug. “Thank you, thank you. I knew you’d help. Dad will listen to you.”
I wasn’t nearly as convinced. “Tell your father I’ll be at the dress shop on Saturday and ask him to stop by before four. He knows where it is.”
“Okay,” she said, walking backward. “You don’t want to call him?”
Strategizing, I bit down on the corner of my lip. “It’ll work best if I talked to him in person.”
“Thanks again, Nichole. This means the world to me.”
All I could do was hope that confronting Rocco would make a difference.
—
Saturday afternoon Shawntelle met me at the shop and we left for lunch. “Tell me about the interview,” I said, once we were seated and had placed our orders.
“The interview went good, I thought,” she said, fiddling with the paper napkin. “That woman from human resources asked every single question I’d practiced. I nearly stopped her to say I