A Wright Christmas - K.A. Linde Page 0,2

been a budding director when I danced here as a kid—was supposed to meet me here, but I was still a few minutes early. I headed down the row of studios. My heart soared when I saw the enormous rooms with ballet barres lining the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that faced equally large mirrors. This did indeed feel just like home. Most of the rooms were empty, save for a baby ballet class taught by a high school–aged student. I continued forward until I found what I was looking for.

In the studio were a handful of advanced students—one Black girl at the front with her partner, a fair-skinned young man with red hair and freckles; a Latina girl gossiped in the back with two white girls; and another brown male dancer stood off to the side, idly doing rond de jambes on the floor. Honestly, I was surprised there was this much diversity. When I had been here, I’d been one of the only non-white dancers.

Kathy stood at the front of the room, heavily pregnant but still lithe and moving with ease around the studio. The couple started again, and my eyebrows rose. I hadn’t expected to be impressed, but watching the girl at the center, I only saw potential.

Kathy clapped her hands, ending the rehearsal, and came out to find me. “Peyton! I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Kathy, it’s so good to see you,” I told her, drawing her into a hug.

“I can’t believe I finally convinced you to be my Sugar Plum Fairy. It is going to be so amazing to watch you on that stage again.”

I smiled at her. “And look at you,” I gushed. “Going to have another ballerina?”

“God willing,” she told me. “Don’t worry. She’s not due until Christmas. We’ll make it through the next month together.”

I laughed, and my eyes wandered to the company members who exited the studio, landing on the Black dancer once more as she trailed the other dancers, who clustered together like a unit. “She’s really good.”

Kathy nodded. “Too good for here,” she said wistfully. “Bebe is only in high school.”

My eyebrows rose. “High school? You mean, this isn’t the professional company?”

“Nope. Just my pre-professional. Katelyn Lawson, her understudy,” she said, pointing out a tall, trim blonde, “has already been accepted to Joffrey for the summer. Bebe doesn’t think she’s ready. She’s only been dancing for two years.”

“Oh my God, Kathy,” I whispered.

“I know.” Kathy patted me on the arm. “Don’t worry about the company. I’ll keep working on her. She’s a little prodigy, just like someone else I know.”

I flushed. Even after dancing professionally for fifteen years, hearing that word—prodigy—made my heart leap. “Thank you, Kathy.”

“Now, come. Let’s get you fitted.”

I followed Kathy into the costume room, happy to fall back into the old, familiar feeling. When I’d decided at seventeen to move to New York, I’d left so much behind—this town, my family…Isaac. It felt almost right to be here again as my career wound down.

2

Isaac

“You wanted to see me?” I said, sticking my head into Jensen Wright’s all-glass office.

Though Jensen Wright Construction was technically a separate entity from Wright Construction, in practice, they were one and the same. Jensen running the architecture and his younger sister Morgan working as CEO of the construction side. The best and the brightest of the Wrights came together in the largest construction company in the nation.

“Isaac, yes. You got my email?” Jensen glanced up from his twenty-seven-inch computer monitor.

“Sure did.”

“Come on in. This will be quick.”

I stepped inside, securing the first available seat in front of him. Jensen was the oldest of five, and after his parents had passed, he had all but raised many of his younger siblings. The Wrights had a ten-year age gap between Jensen and his youngest sister, Sutton, with Austin, Landon, and Morgan in between. Even though I’d grown up with Landon and known Jensen my entire life, I couldn’t help but idolize him. I was thirty years old and still saw him as the too-cool older brother I never had.

“You might have heard rumors about a new facility Wright Construction is working on,” Jensen said.

I nodded. There were always rumors. “A sports team is coming here?”

“Since we have Tech, it’s normally just petty gossip. Everyone wants a Minor League Baseball team or the like to come to Lubbock, but it never pans out.”

“Right, because we’re not on a major highway. Highway 27 doesn’t connect all the way down to 20, and we’re smack between 20 and 30.”

“Yeah,