Just Like Home - Courtney Walsh Page 0,116

Charlotte to decide.” Never mind that he’d worried about that exact thing. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“You’re the brother, right?” She stood directly in front of him now, and though she was several inches shorter than he was, her presence dwarfed him. “Julianna’s brother.”

“Did you know my sister?”

“I taught her for a time,” the woman said. “Very promising young dancer.”

“She was,” he said. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.” The woman eyed him. “I’m surprised you’re so willing to be a part of my daughter’s penance.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

The woman tilted her head and sized him up. “Charlotte has always had such a guilty conscience about what she did to Julianna.”

His frown deepened. “You’re Charlotte’s mother?”

“Marcia Page.”

He ignored her extended hand.

“I never understood why she was so ashamed,” Marcia said with an elegant wave. “In our business, you do what you need to do to survive. I was proud of her, if I’m honest. I really didn’t think she had it in her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cole said.

“No, I don’t suppose you would,” Marcia said. “The girls were young. I think we can blame it on that. There were three of them up for a big apprenticeship in New York. The dancer who won that honor would have the world at her fingertips. Her pick of companies. The best instructors, the best future. It meant everything to Charlotte. There were two other dancers standing in her way. One was your sister, and the other, a beautiful ballerina named Irena Pomchenko.”

Nausea rolled through his body as Marcia continued, her tone clipped and staccato and yet mildly lyrical.

“Technically, Charlotte couldn’t be beat, but she’s always had trouble connecting to her emotions. She didn’t display her passion as well as some of the others. Still, we knew she had to come out on top. Her future—our future—depended on it.”

“I really should get in there,” he said, wanting to get away, to ignore whatever it was this woman was about to say.

“Of course,” she said.

Cole turned to go.

“I’m just glad she’s found someone so willing to forgive her for destroying his sister’s life.”

He stopped short and faced her. “What are you talking about?”

“It certainly wasn’t premeditated, more of a spur-of-the moment crime.” She laughed.

Cole didn’t.

“Irena’s costume was sabotaged. The beads were cut right off the front, leaving a gaping hole. She had to hurry to find another costume, but it threw her off. Badly. She fell twice and left the stage in tears.”

He frowned. “That’s terrible.”

Marcia gave a soft shrug. “That’s ballet. Only the strong survive.”

“Who sabotaged her costume?”

Marcia nodded toward the stage.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes, but she wasn’t the one who took the fall.”

Cole didn’t understand what Marcia was trying to tell him, and his face must’ve said so, because she was all too happy to explain it to him.

“Your sister won that apprenticeship, Mr. Turner,” she said. “But when the faculty found out about the sabotage, they demanded somebody own up to it. Julianna came forward and she was immediately dismissed. Charlotte went to New York, and your sister went home. The rest, as they say, is history.”

“So, Charlotte let Julianna take the blame—”

“She did what she had to, to get ahead,” Marcia said. “In this life, we have to take what we want.”

“Julianna was devasted when she left the ballet.” Cole had never seen her like that. She’d been working so hard, and she loved dance more than anything. Never mind that it wasn’t many weeks later that she met Connor and her new life began—she’d never had another choice. And Charlotte had been the one to steal that from her.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Cole said.

“Of course.”

He rushed past Marcia and out the front door. He’d been fooled again. Charlotte was just like the rest of them. A liar.

Her moving back to the city, he could’ve handled. But this? This, he hadn’t seen coming. And maybe being blindsided all over again was the wake-up call he needed to remember why he’d sworn off women in the first place.

48

After the recital, everyone who’d performed took a bow. Charlotte had looked for Cole backstage, but he was nowhere to be found.

The curtain closed and everyone cheered.

Charlotte was making her way through the crowd of performers when she felt a tug on her dress. She turned and found Amelia standing at her side, tears in her eyes.

“Thank you, Miss Charlotte.” The little girl flung her arms around Charlotte’s waist and squeezed her so hard she thought she might explode.

Charlotte clung

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