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township meeting house, and theater for school programs. Every Saturday night it was a dance hall—and the Bohemians gave it no pity. Inside, Aaron could feel the rhythmic quaking of the plank floor as the dancers beat it to a polka step.
    The building was fronted by a small room that served as kitchen or taproom, depending on the occasion. The large main room was lined with tables and benches on three sides. Aaron scannedthe scatter of benches, looking for Pris. He saw Cora first, for she sat facing the door at a table with Mr. and Mrs. Kvetek and their two daughters. Pris sat with her back to the dance floor, but the minute Cora saw Aaron she quickly leaned toward Pris. He detected a slight turn of her head in his direction, but she gave him only a quarter profile.
    So she’s still got her back up, he thought.
    The dancers were dancing a waltz as he began threading his way through the crowd toward her to ask her to dance, but two single men reached Pris just as Aaron began to make his move. She walked out to the floor with one of them. Aaron had worked his way too near the Kveteks’ table to change course now, and as he passed it he glimpsed Pris waltzing off to his right, while Cora called, “Hi, Aaron,” with a singsong inflection he didn’t like one bit and a glance toward Pris.
    Smart-aleck snot-nose, he thought. He heard her and one of the Kvetek girls giggle as he moved off toward the taproom to buy a beer. He stayed back there by the wooden kegs to down the beer and consider the situation.
    Pris didn’t waste much time hangin’ out her shingle! But he’d told her this was what he wanted, hadn’t he? She was dancing with Willy Michalek again, and all Aaron could do was wait it out. But she finished the whole set with Michalek, and Aaron had another glass of beer while he waited for a new set to begin.
    When the music struck up again, he crossed the floor and stepped behind Pris’s chair. “Dance, Pris?”
    â€œSure, Aaron,” she accepted.
    The two punks across the table didn’t smirk or giggle this time, but avoided looking at him as he took Pris onto the floor.
    â€œWhat did you tell Cora about us?” he asked. “She acts like I’m a cockroach she just found in her cream.”
    â€œI didn’t tell her anything about us. There’s nothing to tell.”
    â€œWell, she seems to think she should defend you.”
    â€œMaybe I need defense against you.”
    They were dancing now, but she stayed her distance and he didn’t press her, didn’t pull her against him in the old way.
    â€œI didn’t come here to fight,” he said.
    â€œWhat, then, to make a conquest?”
    â€œNo, to make an apology.” And he meant it.
    â€œIt’s too late for that. I don’t want it anymore.”
    â€œWhat do you mean ‘anymore’?” he asked.
    â€œI mean I’ve had time to do some thinking this week, and I’ve decided you’re right. Why should I put all my apples in one basket? Maybe I’ll pass a few around.”
    â€œCome on, Pris, let me take you home and we can at least talk this out.”
    â€œSorry, Aaron, I already told Willy Michalek he could take me home.”
    He really hadn’t figured she’d move that fast, and it irked him.
    â€œPassing your apples around already?” he couldn’t help taunting. “Look out, Priscilla, too many passes and you’ll be applesauce.”
    There was a sudden stab of pain in his right foot as Pris’s heel mashed it onto the floorboards.He tightened his grip around her waist with his arm and lifted her until her toes dangled above the floor. His foot hurt like hell, but it took both feet flat on the floor to hold her aloft.
    â€œAaron, you put me down this instant! If you don’t I’ll smash something else!” And her legs were thrashing against his. But he held her as she was, her hips pressed smack against