But before she could explain, Brinley rushed over. “Oh, good, you’re here. Are we ready to start?”
Charlotte frowned. “I don’t know, are we?”
“It’s your meeting,” Brinley said.
Charlotte looked around the room of strangers. “My meeting?”
“Yes, you’re in charge now, right?”
Oh. Right. Charlotte hadn’t thought this through. What did she think, she could take charge of a recital and not actually be in charge?
“Come on.” Brinley tugged on her arm, leading her to the front of the room. “I’ll get everyone’s attention, then turn it over to you. Sound good?”
How hard could it be? “Sure.”
Brinley clapped her hands together. “Hi, everyone.” The small group began to quiet down. “Good evening. We’re really thankful you’re here tonight. I know we were all devastated about Julianna’s passing, but also disappointed about the recital. And Jules would’ve wanted it to go on. We are thrilled to have help from one of the country’s top dancers.”
Brinley looked at Charlotte, who assumed her face had turned pink.
“Ladies and gentlemen, meet Miss Charlotte Page, principal dancer of the Chicago City Ballet.”
Charlotte took a step forward as a smattering of applause filled the room.
She smiled. She’d spoken in front of groups before, usually at charity events. She’d taught plenty of masterclasses and workshops. She knew how to carry herself in a crowd.
But somehow, this was different. These were Julianna’s people. And Charlotte desperately wanted them to like her.
“Thanks, Brinley,” she said. “I came here a couple weeks ago because Julianna spoke so highly of Harbor Pointe and of all of you. When I realized her students didn’t have the recital she’d planned, I wanted to see if we could remedy that. A dance recital is a really big deal to a lot of these dancers—and to Jules.
“We want to use this as an opportunity to honor Julianna. A tribute, I suppose.”
“A celebration of her life,” Brinley added.
“Right,” Charlotte said. “So, it won’t be just a dance recital, it’ll be a little more meaningful this year.”
“And it should be,” the older woman Quinn had been talking to said. “I’m Martha Trembley, and I’ve been helping Julianna since the beginning. My granddaughters are teenagers now, and they’ve grown so much because of dance. So, I mend costumes and help plan and organize where I can. I’m at your disposal.”
Charlotte smiled, bolstered by the support. “I appreciate that. One idea we had was to invite people who loved her to get up on stage and be a part of this event.”
“Charlotte would choreograph numbers for local couples or groups—just to add a little something special this year,” Brinley said.
“There was always something different about Julianna’s recitals,” a middle-aged woman said. “They always had a more theatrical element. And it was always a family affair.”
“She even got her husband involved,” another woman said. “He’d do a dance with their daughter every single year since she could walk.”
“Who’s going to do that this year?” another woman asked.
All eyes returned to Charlotte. She stuttered, then finally said, “I’ll talk to him, but if he doesn’t want to participate, then we’ll do other things to celebrate Jules. Like I said, it’ll look a little different this year.”
“We really should try to keep them involved,” the first woman said. “People look forward to it every season.”
“I’m sure they’ll understand if Connor isn’t up for it this time,” Lucy said. She looked at Charlotte. “I think I can get a group of Julianna’s friends to participate.” She looked at Quinn. “Right?”
Quinn frowned. “You want me to dance? I thought we were here to help with the set.”
Lucy shrugged. “You can pull double duty.”
The group began to chatter for a few minutes, throwing around ideas of people who might want to join them in this tribute. So far, the list consisted mostly of people Charlotte didn’t know. In fact, the only names she’d recognized were Steve and Hildy from Haven House.
“What about asking the football team to do something?” one of the women suggested. “I’m Patricia Dunbar,” she said with a pointed look at Charlotte. “My son plays on the team, and they were state champions last year.”
Charlotte froze. They were a single degree away from discussing the one person whose name she didn’t want brought up at this meeting. The last thing she needed was for Cole or his team to show up in the dance studio.
“Maybe?” Charlotte’s voice sounded unsure. Already it was happening—she was losing her nerve just thinking about—
“What about Cole Turner?” The traitorous suggestion had come from Lucy.