A lot of it.
“I have connections to dojos around the city. We can work it in.”
Noelle nodded. “But, I can still pay.”
Under the table, Duval reached over and put his hand on her thigh. He wasn’t about to argue with Noelle. He certainly wasn’t going to do it at the table in front of their mothers, and Ciela. “We’re just talking about options, now.” He smiled at her. “Nothing set in stone.”
“Absolutely,” Finola added in. “Katie can tell you about the classes she took and McCrae can tell you about the classes he took.”
The room went silent a moment later.
Duval knew why.
It always did when his mother brought up the fact that he’d taken classes as a boy, people always got curious.
“Classes?”
He turned his head and saw Ciela looking at him, her eyes wide with curiousity.
“You took dance classes?”
He smiled, but it felt brittle. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. He’d kind of hoped they’d never have to talk about it.
But he should have known that with his mother around, this conversation was bound to happen.
Finola was proud of the way that she’d raised her children.
Could he really argue with her success?
“My mother made sure that Katie and I were both enrolled in classes after school and during the summers.”
He could see Noelle’s smile lifting her whole expression and suddenly it didn’t hurt so much to know what was coming.
“I didn’t mind some of the classes,” he explained, “but the one that I ha- The one that was my least favorite wasn’t even a dance class.”
He turned and looked at his mother, knowing that she loved to tell this part of the story.
Finola leaned in closer to Ciela who was sitting between her two ‘grandmothers.’ “I sent McCrae to Charm School just like his sister.”
“Ch-charm school?”
Patricia sounded like she might choke on thin air.
Duval saw Noelle turn to look at him with a soft smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes.
“Charm school?”
His mother beamed from ear to ear. “Believe it or not, it was down at the local Sears department store. I think it was between the key maker concession and the photo studio.”
“That’s the way I remember it.” He shrugged. For the first time in his life it didn’t sting so much. “I had a bit of an aversion to talking in front of people. My father said I’d grow out of it, but my mother,” he looked over at Finola who was gazing at him with her eyes filled with maternal pride, “decided to throw me in the lion’s den.”
His mother frowned at him. “Missus Garvey was not a lion, McCrae.”
He opened his mouth to debunk her words, but he saw Ciela listening intently to him.
Duval could hear his mother’s voice in his head. ‘Little pitchers have big ears, son.’
He knew the truth of it now.
