March 1990 – 2 years, 4 months old
Remington sat at his easel, pencil in hand, his eyes moving from a place in front of him to paper, then back again, as solid, assured lines brought the portrait before him to life. Before him, Laura and Olivia stood at the barre, as Laura worked out and their child attempted to mimic her movements. At the beginning of February, Laura had enrolled the toddler in dance classes, and while Livvie showed a tepid interest in the classes, she enthusiastically looked forward to her time spent in their studio.
"Very good, Livvie Bee," Laura praised, as Livvie executed some semblance of first position.
He thought the pair of women in his life looked positively… adorable. Laura's auburn hair was tucked up in a bun, as was Livvie's raven hair, and both wore pink leotards, white tights and pink ballet shoes, the former's concession, he knew, to their daughter.
"All right, baby, that's enough for now," Laura announced. "Ready to have some fun?" Olivia's eyes glimmered and her mouth formed an 'o', and Remington winced, as he knew what was coming. Crossing the room, Laura turned off the tape of classical music, then depressed play on the second cassette player. The room immediately filled with Paula Abdul's Opposites Attract.
"Awwwwwwwwwww," he groused, even as Livvie began pumping her legs, flinging her arms, while Laura danced along with their daughter. "However do we go from Rachmaninov to this… this… assault on the ears, Laura?" he called the question above the blaring music.
"I'd think you'd appreciate it, Mr. Steele," she called back, never missing a step.
"Why ever would you think that?" he asked.
"Paula Abdul. She's exactly your type. You know. Large…" her eyes darted to their daughter. "…Brains, revealing clothing, disinhibited." He snorted with derision.
"Given the only… brains… that I have lus—" He eyed their daughter and didn't finish the word, "I have pursued with vigor for near on a decade belong to you, that's hardly a convincing reason for me to admire this… slop," he countered. He scowled when she merely smirked at his backhanded compliment.
"Alright. Well, think of it this way: This could very well be our song," she suggested.
"Bite your tongue, Laura," he admonished. "We are far too refined, too elegant of a couple for this… rubbish… to be representative of us by any stretch of the imagination."
"Dance, Da!" Olivia called out to him.
"Ahhhh, a stór, I believe I'll sit this one out," he declined, while Laura smirked again. He narrowed his eyes at her for good measure.
Olivia ran across the room and pulled at his pant leg. He leaned down to her eye level.
"Dance, Da. Peaseeeeeeeee," she begged, patting his cheeks with her hands. Across the room, Laura tittered with mirth knowing full well he'd be unable to deny Olivia's request. The two-year-old had long ago figured out how to tug at her father's heartstrings. With a pained look upon his face, he took to his feet.
"Oh, this ought to be good," Laura mocked around her laughter. Her laughter dried up as he began to dance. The man, much to her surprise, had moves. "You never told me you could dance," she accused, her voice going up an octave.
"Laura, how many times must I remind you Daniel assured my education was complete?" he asked, as he maneuvered a neat little spin. "The young wealthy frequented the discotheques in the mid-seventies, the clubs in the late-seventies, beginning of the eighties. Where better to rub elbows, make connections, hear word of…" he left that thought trail off to divine for herself the remainder, rather than discuss such delicate matters in front of their child.
"Oh, my," she drawled. "So which was it? Flared polyester pants and loud nylon shirts or the three piece leisure suit ala John Travolta?" He gave her a quelling look, as he plucked Olivia up off the floor and dipped her. A pair of humor-filled blue eyes looked up at her through his lashes.
"Really, Laura, need you ask?" he challenged, around Olivia's peals of laughter. Sweeping her upward, he did another spin, then plunked her down on her feet, to take Laura's hand and spin her into his arms.
The evening would never be recorded to paper by Remington's hand, but would remain a treasured memory to Laura for a lifetime, her child's joy and this new piece of her husband's past making it impossible to be anything but.