Page 88 of Under Pressure

“You’re doing it wrong,” Walt said and stood at Harry’s side. “The steps go like this.”

Don set Sean’s letter down and picked up his stack. Slowly, he removed the plastic band and picked up the first letter. On the back, it read: Read this one first. Amelia had beautiful, looping penmanship.

He ran his fingers over the seal, slowly lifting the corner edge. An overwhelming sense of dread overcame him. This was it. The last first letter Amelia would ever write him. He couldn’t do it, and quickly set it down, closing the lid over the box.

Shaking his head, he stood and looked at Walt and Harry. “You two are doing it all wrong.” He showed them the steps. They followed but still weren’t quite getting it. “We need partners.” He waved Steve off the floor out of his Chero pose. “Dance with Walt. Harry, you’re with me.”

Steve pumped a scrawny fist. “I love the waltz.”

Walt put his hands up. “Whoa, whoa, hold on there!”

“Man up, Walt,” Don said. “You can’t learn the waltz on your own.” He knew he certainly hadn’t been able to. It was only once he’d gotten Amelia in his arms that the steps finally came.

The men paired off, and Don walked them through the steps.

Police Chief Erickson put waltz music over the speakers. “How’s that?” He leaned against the front desk; arms folded over his chest with a big smile on his face.

Don waved. “Thank you.”

They started going through the steps, following the music.

“There you go, Walt, you’re getting it,” Don encouraged. “You’re going to be lighting up the dance floor at the Christmas festival with the best of them.”

Walt hid a smile.

“This is the best time I’ve had in lockup, ever!” Steve proclaimed, wiping what little there was of Walt’s smile right off his face.

“What about me?” Harry asked.

“I’ll be the girl now,” Don said.

He rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder and Harry took the lead.

“Good, good!” Don called.

“Gramps?”

Don’s feet froze in place and Harry ran into him, bouncing off and mumbling something about his muscles. Steve tripped over Walt’s foot and landed face-first in the bench. Walt helped him back up and Steve waved off his concern.

The men all spun toward the bars.

Sean stood with Erickson by the desk, with a smirk on his face, and holding . . . Bluebell’s hand. She was a mess in a wet dress and crazy hair with a big sweater over the top, probably Sean’s, but man, was she a sight for sore eyes!

“What are you doing?” Sean asked.

He pointed to Harry and Walt. “Putting those dance lessons Johnny made me take with him to good use. Got better ways to spend your time in jail?”

Sean snickered and lifted the hand that wasn’t holding Bluebell’s in a surrender motion. “Just askin’.”

“What are you doing here?” Don asked.

“I’m here to spring you out.” He looked from Don to Harry. “Harry, Virginia’s waiting in the car for you.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” Harry said.

Bluebell waved. “Hey, Don.”

“I thought you were getting married today?” Don asked.

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