It took Garret a few minutes to connect the dots and burst out in a single loud laugh. “Never heard it put quite that way.”
“When I was in high school and my mom would let me have a party, her post was usually by the main floor bathroom. I can still see her standing arms crossed, shaking her head, smiling, and repeating, ‘Only one at a time.’”
“Okay. Then I’m off to wander the grounds and the parking lot. Make sure Noah isn’t busy out there either.” Walking away, Garret continued to chuckle to himself.
“The bathroom, huh?” Alice smiled up at him.
He shrugged. “What can I tell you, kids weren’t too bright in my day.”
Her gaze shifted to the kids on the dance floor and she barely shook her head. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
Twenty minutes in, the music shifted to the unofficial anthem of the fifties—“Rock Around the Clock.” A few brave souls ventured onto the dance floor, awkwardly trying steps that hadn’t been popular for decades. Clint found himself tapping his foot, memories of his mother teaching him to dance in their kitchen surfacing unexpectedly. That’s when he spotted them—two boys lingering by the refreshment table, looking around with exaggerated casualness that screamedup to no good. One nudged the other, and a small silver flask appeared from inside a jacket.
Clint moved without hurry, positioning himself beside them before they could make their move. “Evening, gentlemen.”
The boys froze, the flask hastily disappearing back into the jacket.
“Evening,” the taller boy attempted nonchalance. “Great decorations.”
“Thanks. Put those waves together myself.” He nodded toward the boy’s jacket. “That wouldn’t happen to be something you’re planning to add to the punch, would it?”
Their expressions would have been comical if he weren’t genuinely concerned. The shorter boy looked ready to bolt, while the taller one’s face cycled through denial, defiance, and finally, resignation.
“Look,” Clint lowered his voice, “I’m not going to drag you to the principal or call your parents.” He extended his hand, palm up. “But I can’t let you spike the punch.”
After a moment’s hesitation, the flask appeared and with clear reluctance, was paced firmly in Clint’s open hand.
“You ever been drunk, boys?” Clint pocketed the flask.
They exchanged glances, then shook their heads.
“First time’s never as fun as you think it’ll be.” He smiled slightly. “Especially not when you’re surrounded by teachers and parents.”
“You gonna tell our folks?” the shorter boy asked.
Clint considered this. “No. But I expect to see you both at the Sweet Ranch next Saturday morning. I’ve got some fence posts that need painting. Six hours ought to cover it.”
Relief washed over their faces, followed by confusion. “That’s it?” the taller one asked.
“That’s it. Now go ask some girls to dance. That takes more courage than drinking ever will.”
As they walked away, looking chastened but not humiliated, Clint wondered if Jason had ever tried something similar. A familiar pang of loss hit him, sharper than usual. He’d missed so much. He should have been there for his son. To chaperone the dances, coach the ball games, give advice on girls, cheer at graduations, toast his first job, first promotion. Shoulda, coulda, woulda.
“Everything all right?” Alice’s voice broke through his thoughts.
“Fine.” He straightened. “Just preventing a punch bowl disaster.” He held up the confiscated flask. “This’ll stay with me for now. The two culprits will be doing chores at the ranch this Saturday.”
“Well handled.” Her gaze followed the direction he discreetly pointed to two boys hovering along the edge of the dance floor. “I’ll make sure their parents know they’ll be expected at the ranch. Sometimes kids need consequences, but not always public humiliation.”
The song changed, another number that Clint recognized from his grandparents’ record collection—“Earth Angel.” Several couples moved to the center of the floor, arms awkwardly wrapped around each other, swaying more than dancing.
“Would you like to dance?” The question was out before he could think better of it.
Alice’s eyes widened slightly, but her smile never faltered. “I would.”
Holding her hand in his should have been more awkward. His other hand around her waist, and the entire stance felt oddly at home. The first step, and he realized immediately that Alice Sweet, among other things, knew how to dance. They sashayedaround the floor, twirling her out and in a few times, always returning her to the fold of his arms.
“You’re very good. Better than Charlie. Bless that man, so many qualities, dancing wasn’t his best.”
