“I suppose Wyatt thought of it because he’s fixing up Hank’s car to make him more independent. I did mention earlier that I wished he could come, but we were too busy setting up for me to get him, and even if I had, he would have tired out quickly, staying here so long.”

“See? This works out better. I’m glad Wyatt got him, Carly,” he said earnestly. “I’m just sayin’ I feel like a heel for not thinkin’ of it myself. I could have gone and picked him up before I came.”

“We’re not used to the idea of him coming into town for things. We’ll both think of it next time.” I lifted the bottle of water. “I’m gonna take this to Hank.”

“Okay. Have you seen Max? I don’t see him anywhere, and we’re going to need to change the keg soon.”

“Maybe he went inside. I have to go to the bathroom, anyway, so I can look for him.”

“Sounds good.”

Wyatt had moved a chair to the parking lot, next to the grassy back edge, and Hank was sitting in it with his crutches lying on the ground next to him. He was watching the dancers with a wistfulness I’d never seen on his face.

I handed him the bottle, then squatted next to him. “Are you thinking of Mary right now?”

He released a soft laugh. “That woman loved to dance. The town used to put on monthly dances in the summer, and Mary always wanted to go. She would dance all night, leavin’ me utterly exhausted, but she’d still be dancing through the front door when we got home. This makes me think of happier times.”

I reached up and grabbed his hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Did Bart come too? And Floyd Bingham?”

“Yep. The dance was considered neutral ground. No nonsense allowed.” He cast a glance down at me. “It was for the town’s sake. So people would feel safe, and they wouldn’t worry about gettin’ caught in any cross-fire.”

“Literal?” I asked, wide-eyed.

He shrugged as though it was no big deal. “That too. There was a lot of divisiveness, and even though a good portion of the people in town had nothing to do with anything underhanded, they could still feel the tension. Drummond ran the town, so he started the dances and proposed they be Switzerland. Mary convinced me it was a good idea.” He shot me a wink. “I teased her she wanted it to work for selfish reasons. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when she lifted her chin and said defiantly, ‘Suppose I do. You know I’m not the only one.’ And she was right, so I swallowed a lump of pride and accepted the terms, but the deal was he provided the moonshine and I provided the bands.”

“And what did Floyd Bingham provide?”

Releasing a snort, he said, “Not a damn thing. He didn’t come most of the time, but eventually his son did.”

“Say, Hank,” I said, feeling awkward about what I was about to ask. But I’d feel unsettled until I said something. “Is there bad blood between you and Jerry Nelson?”

His brow shot up. “What makes you ask?”

“I told Jerry to let me know if things turn sour out at the Drummonds’. I said I’d help him get resettled, and he told me that he doubted you’d want him stayin’ with us for any length of time.”

He snorted. “Two old men livin’ with a young woman? Sounds like one of them sitcoms. That’s what he probably meant.”

Only I didn’t think that was what he meant at all. Had Hank just lied to me, or had he forgotten some grievance that Jerry remembered? I was having too much fun to put a pall over it.

“So they used to have dances?” I said. “How many years did they go on?”

He pushed out a sigh. “I don’t recall. Ten years? Maybe twelve? They stopped when the lumber mill went under. People didn’t feel much like celebratin’ when they’d just lost their jobs and the man hostin’ the parties was the one who’d ruined ’em.” He motioned to the dancers. “Max did a good thing. The town needed this.”

“Speaking of Max…” I got to my feet. “I’m supposed to ask him about changing the keg. Save me a spot on your dance card, Hank. You’re gonna dance with me.”

He snorted again. “The hell I am.”

I pointed a finger at him. “Just like your Mary, I know when to dig in my feet. I will get my way, and you know it, so you might as well accept it.”

He shot me a dark glare. It might have scared someone else, but I just grinned and waited with a hand propped on my hip.

“Fine. Go.” He made a shooing motion, and I laughed as I turned around and headed for the back door.

There was still no sign of Bart or Emily. I hoped that meant they’d gotten bored and left.

The back hall was illuminated with an overhead light. One of the generators was hooked up to the tavern to keep the refrigerators and freezer running, and Max had left the hall light on so people could see when they went in to use the bathroom. Since the tavern only had two restrooms with one toilet each, there’d been a line most of the night, so I was fortunate that there was only one person ahead of me. I got to the restroom quicker than I’d expected—the woman in front me had gone in to reapply some makeup—and when I got out, the hall was empty.

I walked around the table Max and Tiny had turned on its side to block the end of the hall and the entrance to the dining room, and headed to Max’s office. It was locked.

Where was he?

I started to head back outside when I heard a loud thud on the ceiling above my head, coming from Max’s apartment.

He’d seemed eager to enjoy the night, but maybe he’d gone up there for a break. Or to use his own bathroom. I considered finding Ruth and making an executive decision about the keg, but I decided Max would want some input. I headed up the dark stairwell and stood in front of the doorway, surprised to hear a couple of voices on the other side. They were too muffled for me to make out who they belonged to, but one of them was definitely female.

Well, crap. Had Max found a woman and brought her upstairs? I definitely didn’t want to interrupt.

I turned around to go downstairs, but it was nearly pitch black, and I banged into the wall outside the door. Cringing, I was torn between bolting down the stairs and waiting to see if Max came to the door to check on the noise. Before I could decide, the door opened and Max appeared, his hand on the door. His apartment was dark except for a dim circle of light from a couple of candles on his coffee table.

“Max, I’m so sorry,” I gushed. His face was swathed in shadows, and I couldn’t see if he was pissed. “The keg’s nearly empty, and I came up to ask which one to use as a replacement, but then I heard voices and started to leave so I wouldn’t interrupt.” I lowered my voice. “I didn’t mean to bother you. You get back to whatever it was you were doing and we’ll sort it out ourselves.”

“Is that Carly I hear?” a familiar female voice called out.

Oh shit.

Max hesitated. “Yeah, Mom.”

“Well, don’t be rude, Max. Invite her in.”

Max hesitated again, then backed up so I could enter the room.

“Well hello, Carly,” she said from across the room. She was sitting on the edge of Max’s sofa, but I didn’t see Bart. “It’s been too long since we chatted. I was hoping you’d come out to tea again.”