Chapter 12

“Genevieve? Do you dance?”

“Yes, Doctor, I dance,” she said.

The band, a quartette, had begun a waltz.

The small floor was empty. They would be ... exposed. Exposed to the ridicule or approbation of some of Detroit’s upper crust.

He stood, held out his hand, she slid her chair back and took the offered hand. They moved to the floor ... and all the years of lessons proved that she could ... dance. And it was fun. A father daughter ... or so it appeared to the diners.

Soon, a gray headed couple, husband and wife, celebrating the anniversary of their fortieth, joined them.

And then the upper crust ... danced.

The quartette continued the waltz much longer than was the norm.

Detroit ... and its environs ... is manufactories. As is normal ... there was a need for skilled employees. The skills were imported. Artisans from Poland ... Germany ... Switzerland. Some of those imported had ideas and those ideas had made a few of the imported ... wealthy. Wealthy parents were careful that their children married wealth. Detroit ... in 1971.

The quartette broke into a polka. Polish, German, Swiss ... if there is one dance they know ... polka.

In the morning, Genevieve Austin, still bubbling from last night, interrupted her daddy in his office. Daddy was doing ‘nothing,’ Nothing so important as to deny his darling daughter.

“Daddy ... it was sooo much fun,” she said. “One staid matron polka’d so hard her triple strand of pearls broke and scattered. She probably lost half of them to crushing shoes.”

“Fun?”

“Pete ... excuse me ... Pierre, the ... ah ... oh so French Maître d’, is from Oklahoma. In real life he’s a caller ... we square-danced. Almost caused a riot.”

“Square dance?”

“Like ... aliemande left.”

“What?”

“Daddy? You’ve never square danced? Aliemand left is a square dance figure in which two facing dancers take left hands or forearms, turn halfway around to the left, let go, and step forward, the move generally continues around the square until you meet your original partner ... where’s George?”

“George?”

“The chauffeur. Your education is sadly lacking? Where did you go to school? Don’t answer ... rhetorical question. Come on.”

Gen began to drag David away from his ‘nothing’ and hauled him out the back door. On the way through the kitchen she grabbed Gladys the cook and Ellen ... Ellen was the maid but subbing for Gladses helper. Ellen was scraping carrots.

George was washing the Rolls. A fourth was required ... Andrea, the upstairs maid was summoned.

Right there ... in the driveway ... Daddy, bum leg and all, learned the basic square dance figures. Gladys, Ellen, Andrea and George had gone to PUBLIC school and Square Dance was one of the things taught in Gym. Gen knew because she took dance ... AND had refreshed last night. Itchiro, the New Jersey born Japanese gardner, knew the calls and joined in the fun. Mistakes were made, corrected and made again to much laughter. And it was fun.

When one lives at an airfield neighbors are at a premium ... but there was one 24 year old retired New York runway model ... her chest got away from her ... double D’s were not stylishly in demand ... who had retired to Wyandot, south of Detroit, west of East Grosse Ile but east of the River ... who, for her health ... bicycled.

Her bicycle tended to wander onto the airfield ... straight lines. She pedaled past the impromptu dance party and, distracted ... hit a red white and blue painted fire-hydrant. The wheel bent and she crashed. Mostly, she crashed at Daddy’s feet.

Gen took one look at the bent wheel, “I can fix that.”

Leaving Daddy tending damaged beauty, Gen took said wheel to the Eighty ... and got sidetracked. Sidetracked by square tubing, welding and motorcycle wheels.

Admiring her sculpture ... for it was indeed, art ... in the dark, her attention wandered back to her intent.

‘I need to fix that wheel.’

Naturally, fixing included making new spokes. Because one never uses straightened bent spokes ... they fail.

It was a job well done and done well ... she was just finishing when the morning crew of little car builders checked in.

At home ... she assembled wheel to the bike frame and went to bed.

Never once considering Daddy and the injured model.