I laugh. "You're impossible."
"Persistent," she corrects. "There's a difference."
When I try to argue, she shakes her head and goes back to sorting books.
By closing time, I've given up.
Jenna shows up at the cabin just as the sun starts to sink, her hair pulled back and her smile warm. "You look like you need this," she says.
"I don't even have anything to wear," I protest, but Candy pulls into the drive just then all done up and ready to go. Once inside she pulls a dress out of a bag. Soft cream cotton, simple but pretty, with a faint floral pattern.
"It's perfect," Candy says, holding it up.
I laugh. "You're determined to make me do this, aren't you?"
"I am," she says. "Because you've been working and worrying and pretending you're fine for too long. You need to remember what it feels like to be alive."
Jenna nods in agreement. "Go. Have fun. I've got Emma covered. We'll head to my place, and she’ll help with the evening chores. Then we will make popcorn and watch movies."
Emma pops her head around the corner, eyes bright. "You're going dancing?"
"Apparently," I say.
She grins. "You should. You never do fun stuff."
I put a hand over my heart, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me?"
She giggles. "Not like this! Go dance, Mom."
Candy claps her hands once. "You heard the boss. Let's get you ready."
Half an hour later, we're driving toward the dance hall.
Candy taps the steering wheel in time with a country song playing low on the radio. "You nervous?"
"A little," I admit. "It's been a long time since I went to the dance hall. Last time was when Asher's mom gave me Asher's number, trying to set us up."
"Good," she says. "Maybe this time you will walk away with even better memories."
The dance hall sits on the edge of town, an old wooden building with wide double doors and light spilling out into the dust. Music drifts through the open windows, laughter and footsteps, and the faint slide of a fiddle.
Inside, the air smells like sawdust and sugar. Couples move across the floor, boots tapping in rhythm. I hang back near the wall, heart thudding.
Candy loops her arm through mine. "You're not going to stand there all night."
"Watch me."
She laughs, and before I can protest, she tugs me into the crowd. The music shifts to something slow and sweet. People sway, the floorboards creaking under their weight. I don't know the steps, but Candy doesn't seem to care. She spins me once, and I can't help but laugh.
"See?" she says. "You're a natural."
"I think you're just good at dragging people into trouble."
"Same thing," she says, grinning.
We move with the music until my cheeks ache from smiling. When the song ends, she guides me back to the edge of the floor. I grab two lemonades and hand her one.
Across the room, I catch a few glances from people who still look at me like they're trying to place where I fit. Some smile, some don't. But for the first time, it doesn't sting as much.