haven’t figured out what to do with the studio yet, but I guess you’re right—I probably need to sell it or shut it down.”
“Don’t shut it down,” Charlotte said. “It’s part of her legacy.”
From somewhere in the house, a baby started crying. Connor swore under his breath and looked at Charlotte.
“Julianna’s assistant is there now. Ask her if you want to help with the studio. I have to deal with the kids.” He pulled the door open and stopped, as if he had more to say. He must’ve thought better of it, though, because he snapped his jaw shut and walked inside, closing the door behind him, but not before she caught a glimpse of the mess in the living room.
She didn’t know Connor well, and admittedly, what she did know of him was mostly from his wife’s letters, but even she could see he wasn’t coping well.
She stood on the porch for a long moment, and a wave of grief thick and strong nearly knocked her over. It had come from nowhere, and now it lingered, leaving Charlotte unsteady on her feet.
Charlotte pulled out her phone and searched the address for Julianna’s dance studio. She plugged it in to her GPS, but as she pulled away from the curb, she glanced back at the quaint house situated in the middle of the Harbor Pointe neighborhood. In the second-story window, she spotted the face of a little girl, watching her.
Caught, Amelia dropped the curtain and disappeared, doing nothing to calm Charlotte’s overworked nerves. She wanted to help. For once, she wanted to do something for someone other than herself.
Slowly, she pulled out into the street and drove across town toward what she discovered was an adorable little studio situated on Mulberry Street.
She peered down the block at the rows of brightly colored buildings, the colors of the sky in the midst of a summer sunset. Pinks and yellows and teals all winked back at her, as if the town itself had a personality that deserved to be recognized.
Jules had described Mulberry Street in her letters, and while she was an excellent pen pal, even her beautiful words didn’t do this place justice.
Charlotte locked the doors of the beat-up Jetta, reminded herself to call the rental company, and made her way to the brick building that Jules had converted into a dance studio.
The lobby was much more spacious than she would’ve expected, with a reception area and the school’s logo neatly positioned on a brick wall behind it. The entire vibe was very Chicago, very upscale. Very Julianna. Her friend had always had impeccable taste.
“Can I help you?” A voice caught Charlotte’s attention. A girl, probably in her early twenties, stood in the lobby, looking disheveled.
“Hi, I’m—”
“Charlotte Page.” The girl said it with considerable awe in her voice.
“That’s right.”
“I’ve seen you dance,” she said. “I have season tickets to the Chicago City Ballet.”
“Oh.” Charlotte wasn’t sure how to respond. Typically, ballet dancers didn’t have the same kinds of fans as celebrities. She’d signed programs for many young girls, and stopped to chat with the gray-haired crowd, many of whom had a “lovely grandson I’d love to introduce you to”—but it wasn’t often Charlotte was recognized, in street clothes no less.
It made her feel self-conscious.
“What are you doing in Harbor Pointe?” the girl asked.
“I was a friend of Julianna’s,” Charlotte said.
“She told me. But I never would’ve thought you’d actually come here.”
Charlotte smiled. “I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help out.”
“Here?” The girl sounded as shocked as she looked.
Charlotte laughed. “Yes, here.”
“Oh, wow. What did you have in mind? I’m Brinley Watson, by the way, Jules’s assistant.”
Charlotte shook the girl’s hand. “It’s good to meet you.” She looked around the space. “Show me around?”
Brinley grinned. “Happy to.” She led her down the hall where Julianna had everything she needed for the perfect dance studio. Two large spaces with windows for parental viewing and ample seating throughout.
“During the week, this space is full and loud. This is the only dance studio in Harbor Pointe, so Julianna has all the kids.” She faltered. “Had all the kids.” Her face fell.
The pang of sorrow returned. Charlotte quickly replaced it with thoughts of Julianna in this space. She’d never seen her friend teach, but she didn’t have to to know she was amazing at it.
Brinley turned on the light in one of the dance studios. “This is Studio A. It’s a smidge bigger than the back studio.”
“How many teachers are