expensive, and I guess all the best local bands are probably booked by now. But I do think we should get a DJ instead of using Max’s CDs.”
“What’s wrong with his CDs?” Mr. Stowe said. “Doesn’t he have good ones?”
Stevie shrugged. “They’re fine. It’s just a DJ is—you know—most dances have a DJ, to change the CDs and introduce the songs.”
Mr. Stowe shook his head. “For a Valentine’s Day dance you want pure romance,” he said.
“Totally,” said Stevie.
“So you don’t want some wisecracking high-school kid interrupting the music every couple of minutes,” he continued. “Where’s the atmosphere in that? What we need to do is find an automaticCD changer and cue up a bunch of music so that it just flows, one romantic love song into another.”
Stevie blinked. “That’d be perfect,” she said. She could imagine herself dancing with Phil, flowing from one song to another.
“There’s nothing wrong with balloons or streamers,” Mr. Stowe continued, “but for atmosphere you need to control the lighting.”
“Max has a few strings of regular lightbulbs,” Lisa said. “We usually use those.”
“But they’re bright, right?” he asked. Carole nodded. “So what if you get some of those little paper lanterns to cover all the bulbs,” Mr. Stowe suggested. “And if you got low-wattage bulbs in the first place, you could have a nice, soft, romantic light. And then—I’ve got the perfect idea! But it’s a surprise. I won’t even tell you girls.” He smiled. “The perfect surprise for a romantic bam dance.”
“What about a strobe light?” Stevie said. “I was really hoping for a strobe light.”
“A strobe light!” Mr. Stowe shook his head. “That’s one of those things that makes everyone look like they’re jerking when they dance, isn’t it?”
“It’s kind of fun,” Carole said. “People look like they stop and then start again.”
“But is it
romantic
?” Mr. Stowe asked, with a sweep of his hands.
“No,” said Carole. “I guess not.”
“The name of this game has to be romance,” he said. “It’s a romantic time of year; we have to create and nourish the proper atmosphere. No strobes. No mouthy DJs. Nothing but pure romance.”
Lisa drew in a breath. For a moment Mr. Stowe was utterly transformed. Lisa had seen actors on stage turn instantly from one character into another, but she had never seen it happen in life before. Suddenly Mr. Stowe seemed younger, more dapper, almost charming. Lisa was dazzled.
“Max!” Mrs. Reg shouted down the aisle. “Did you remember to buy that worm paste?”
Mr. Stowe jumped and suddenly looked sheepish. The dapper gentleman vanished, and in his place was old, kind, helpful Mr. Stowe.
Carole settled Starlight in his stall and gave him a good-bye pat. She, too, had seen something special in Mr. Stowe a moment ago. He had seemed like a man of vision and ideas, instead of aman learning how to ride. She turned to him with friendly pity. “I’m going to check Dime’s pulse again,” she said. “Would you like me to show you how?”
Mr. Stowe half shrugged. “That’s kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” he said.
“It’s no trouble,” Carole said. She went for the stethoscope.
“No, really …,” Mr. Stowe called to her retreating back. He shrugged again to Lisa and Stevie. “You girls don’t need to take so much trouble with me,” he said.
“It’s no trouble at all,” Stevie said sincerely. She was so pleased with Mr. Stowe’s ideas—paper lanterns would be much more romantic than a strobe light. Why hadn’t she realized that? And to think that Phil was excited about his school’s strobe light! He just didn’t know what true romance was. “Besides, Carole really loves to teach people about horses.”
“I can tell.” Mr. Stowe sighed.
Mrs. Reg came down the aisle toward them. “Hello, Howard. I see you found these girls again,” she said, a bit sharply. “What
“What’s wrong with his CDs?” Mr. Stowe said. “Doesn’t he have good ones?”
Stevie shrugged. “They’re fine. It’s just a DJ is—you know—most dances have a DJ, to change the CDs and introduce the songs.”
Mr. Stowe shook his head. “For a Valentine’s Day dance you want pure romance,” he said.
“Totally,” said Stevie.
“So you don’t want some wisecracking high-school kid interrupting the music every couple of minutes,” he continued. “Where’s the atmosphere in that? What we need to do is find an automaticCD changer and cue up a bunch of music so that it just flows, one romantic love song into another.”
Stevie blinked. “That’d be perfect,” she said. She could imagine herself dancing with Phil, flowing from one song to another.
“There’s nothing wrong with balloons or streamers,” Mr. Stowe continued, “but for atmosphere you need to control the lighting.”
“Max has a few strings of regular lightbulbs,” Lisa said. “We usually use those.”
“But they’re bright, right?” he asked. Carole nodded. “So what if you get some of those little paper lanterns to cover all the bulbs,” Mr. Stowe suggested. “And if you got low-wattage bulbs in the first place, you could have a nice, soft, romantic light. And then—I’ve got the perfect idea! But it’s a surprise. I won’t even tell you girls.” He smiled. “The perfect surprise for a romantic bam dance.”
“What about a strobe light?” Stevie said. “I was really hoping for a strobe light.”
“A strobe light!” Mr. Stowe shook his head. “That’s one of those things that makes everyone look like they’re jerking when they dance, isn’t it?”
“It’s kind of fun,” Carole said. “People look like they stop and then start again.”
“But is it
romantic
?” Mr. Stowe asked, with a sweep of his hands.
“No,” said Carole. “I guess not.”
“The name of this game has to be romance,” he said. “It’s a romantic time of year; we have to create and nourish the proper atmosphere. No strobes. No mouthy DJs. Nothing but pure romance.”
Lisa drew in a breath. For a moment Mr. Stowe was utterly transformed. Lisa had seen actors on stage turn instantly from one character into another, but she had never seen it happen in life before. Suddenly Mr. Stowe seemed younger, more dapper, almost charming. Lisa was dazzled.
“Max!” Mrs. Reg shouted down the aisle. “Did you remember to buy that worm paste?”
Mr. Stowe jumped and suddenly looked sheepish. The dapper gentleman vanished, and in his place was old, kind, helpful Mr. Stowe.
Carole settled Starlight in his stall and gave him a good-bye pat. She, too, had seen something special in Mr. Stowe a moment ago. He had seemed like a man of vision and ideas, instead of aman learning how to ride. She turned to him with friendly pity. “I’m going to check Dime’s pulse again,” she said. “Would you like me to show you how?”
Mr. Stowe half shrugged. “That’s kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” he said.
“It’s no trouble,” Carole said. She went for the stethoscope.
“No, really …,” Mr. Stowe called to her retreating back. He shrugged again to Lisa and Stevie. “You girls don’t need to take so much trouble with me,” he said.
“It’s no trouble at all,” Stevie said sincerely. She was so pleased with Mr. Stowe’s ideas—paper lanterns would be much more romantic than a strobe light. Why hadn’t she realized that? And to think that Phil was excited about his school’s strobe light! He just didn’t know what true romance was. “Besides, Carole really loves to teach people about horses.”
“I can tell.” Mr. Stowe sighed.
Mrs. Reg came down the aisle toward them. “Hello, Howard. I see you found these girls again,” she said, a bit sharply. “What
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