of students who are going to be lost without her.”
Charlotte went through the motions of the next few days, expecting to “go back to normal”—whatever that meant, but normal never came, only the haunting knowledge that something was missing. Maybe losing the only person you could genuinely call “friend” was meant to turn you inside out.
“Let’s get breakfast, you can tell me everything,” Lucy said, swiping Charlotte’s bag off the back of the chair. “Betsy, can you bring us two number two’s?”
“She doesn’t eat pancakes,” Betsy called out as Lucy led Charlotte toward a booth near the back of the restaurant.
“She does today!”
Lucy was just like Julianna had described her. She was a little loud, smiled with her whole face, and never met a stranger.
Something about that comforted Charlotte.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Lucy said, settling in to the booth.
“I can’t either,” Charlotte said. “Are you sure it’s okay? You probably didn’t really mean for me to come.”
“Are you kidding? Of course I did.” Lucy grinned. “I never say anything I don’t mean. Are you going to run the dance studio? I heard they canceled their spring recital.”
“Maybe?” The idea hadn’t stopped nagging her since the day Lucy mentioned it. She could buy Julianna’s studio, teach and begin an entirely new life.
Charlotte had never fancied herself a teacher, but she’d held masterclasses and workshops over the years. She’d always enjoyed it, which was unlike her mother, who only taught because she could no longer perform.
“You’d be amazing,” Lucy said.
“Well, I’m off to a great start. I crashed into Cole Turner’s truck.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “You crashed the vintage Chevy?”
Charlotte grimaced. “He was pretty mad. I mean, of all the people I don’t want mad at me, Julianna’s brother is at the top of the list.”
Lucy waggled her eyebrows. “Julianna’s very good-looking brother.”
So Charlotte wasn’t crazy. Cole was still beautiful. She’d thought it as soon as she realized who he was, but he’d doused that feeling the second he turned rude.
“Okay.” Lucy waved her hand in the air. “We’ll deal with that later. Now let’s talk about you. Did they finally give you some time off at the ballet?”
“Not exactly,” Charlotte said. “I kind of took a leave.”
“For how long?”
“Forever?” Charlotte’s voice turned up at the end, as if it were a question. “I mean, maybe forever, I don’t know.” How did she explain what had come over her when even she wasn’t sure it made sense? “Julianna’s death—” Charlotte’s voice betrayed her. “I’m just reevaluating things, is all.”
After the funeral, Julianna’s choice to leave the ballet all those years ago made sense.
And Charlotte’s choice to stay did not.
Lucy nodded soberly. She didn’t say so, but Charlotte thought she understood, at least as much as she could. After all, not many people could truly understand what life as a principal dancer in the Chicago City Ballet had really been like. Years of living up to other people’s expectations of her—years of striving to be the best, as if being the best was all that mattered—it had taken a toll.
And the truth was, Charlotte hadn’t taken a leave. She’d quit. She’d walked out, broke her contract, burned the bridge.
There was no turning back.
“I saw you at the funeral,” Charlotte said.
“You were there?” Lucy stilled.
Charlotte straightened. “I stayed at the back. I didn’t want to interfere. Everyone knew her so much differently than I did.”
Lucy reached across the table and covered Charlotte’s hand. “That’s not true. We just saw her more often.”
Charlotte blinked to keep the tears from falling. “Two days after the funeral, I found this in my mailbox.” She pulled out the lavender envelope.
Lucy took it and smiled. “Leave it to Jules to still send snail mail.”
“We’ve always written letters,” Charlotte said. “Ever since we were kids.”
“I know,” Lucy said. “She told me.”
Charlotte smiled at that. Somehow, the knowledge of it made her feel seen. Or maybe it made her feel known.
And everything inside of her wanted to be known. Maybe that was part of it—Harbor Pointe was filled with people who knew Jules, people who loved her and still mourned her.
Charlotte had realized somewhere in the passing days that if she died, the conversation would be about who would replace her at the ballet, not about how much they would miss her. Nobody would miss her, especially not now, with Julianna gone.
Something inside her broke at the thought of it.
One of the servers appeared with their food. “Two number two’s.”
Lucy grinned. “You’re about to have the breakfast of your life.”