Chapter 2
Two
Variation: a solo in a classical ballet performance (such as The Nutcracker, Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake) that may contain adjustments from the standard choreography for the particular strengths of a dancer.
Alexander
I resisted the urge to shift my weight from side to side yet again as I surveyed the event space from the corner I’d staked out near the bar after enduring the requisite family picture-taking to commemorate my father’s milestone birthday.
My mother and sister had finally stopped fussing over me to go attend to other, undoubtedly more amenable guests.
I was no stranger to fancy events, but I simply wasn’t up to any sort of party socialization tonight.
You need to give yourself a break. You don’t always have to be perfect, and certainly not right now when you’re still healing.
The server earlier hadn’t been wrong, but I was Alexander Dasher, and a whole host of people counted on my perfection, including myself.
Hell, letting the server see cracks in my mask and letting him boss me into sitting down was enough out of character.
I’d performed on any number of sprains, strains, breakups, breakdowns, and more with no one knowing.
My job was to make the impossible look effortless, and I was damn good at that illusion.
In a different mood, I would have charmed the server, turned his appreciative gaze into something a bit more flirty, and then walked away bolstered by the interaction.
Instead, I’d had to summon all my energy to not limp toward Isabella, and I was left mulling over the server’s wisdom rather than contemplating how to charm him further.
As I wondered how much longer I’d need to endure the party, a familiar face discovered my hiding spot.
“Alexander!” Tavio, one of my oldest and dearest mentors, strode determinedly toward me. He was also a longtime family friend, and he’d tamed his bushy silver hair into submission and donned a typically elegant charcoal suit for the occasion. “I’ve been trying to catch you all evening.”
“My apologies.” My only real regret was that I hadn’t succeeded in turning invisible. Nevertheless, I accepted a brief hug and back pat with a smile. “How are you?”
I braced for the inevitable reply even before I finished asking. I owed so very much to Tavio, yet there was a reason I’d dodged him this evening.
“The better question is, how are you?” Tavio had the barest hint of a Spanish accent, worn away by decades in New York before he retired to the Philadelphia area. “Your sister says you’re working hard, but directed me back to you, darn that doctor/patient confidentiality.”
“Darn.” I shrugged, making a mental note to thank Isabella later. My twin was a well-respected orthopedist, a fact that both awed and disconcerted me. “She’s not technically my doctor though. I’m seeing another doctor at her practice and using Isabella’s physical therapy recommendations.”
“And?” Tavio prompted, long fingers flexing as if tempted to summon Isabella over to make me talk. “When we last spoke, you were so discouraged. I hope the change of scenery and new approach are helping.”
“Thank you.” I did appreciate his concern, if not the reminder of my terrible summer.
I’d been on the road to recovery after blowing my ACL in the late winter, only to suffer a major setback right as my Seattle-based ballet company was finalizing roles for the fall season.
I’d lost my chance to come back this year, along with a good chunk of my confidence.
Reluctantly, I’d let Isabella coax me back for an extended visit to get a second opinion on my rehab.
I’d had a decent team in Seattle for the surgery and initial recovery, but the second opinion had been helpful, even if I continually felt two steps behind.
I forced an upbeat tone for Tavio. “It’s a little like stepping into a time machine, being back in the area again.
But Isabella and her team have been tremendous.
I’m making progress. I’m on track for the Valentine’s weekend production. ”
This was the stock answer I offered everyone these days.
The date was circled on my calendar with equal parts dread and anticipation.
I was so much stronger now than a few weeks ago, but the thought of showing up for the start of rehearsals only to face another disappointment gave my stomach premiere night-level queasiness.
“You’re not going to attempt The Nutcracker in December?” Tavio’s calculating gaze said far more than his words.
“Don’t play coy with me.” I wagged a finger at him. We’d both been adults long enough that I could rebuke the man who’d once been a legend to me. “I know you’re still hooked into all the latest ballet world gossip. Retirement has nothing on you.”
“True.” Tavio didn’t look at all repentant.
“The company told me to take my time coming back after the latest setback, and they went ahead and cast The Nutcracker without me this year.” I paused for a brief breath, not giving in to my knee’s current demand for a chair and an icepack.
Showing my pain now would hardly fit my breezy tone.
“I could have been ready, but it’s smart business on their part not to count on me, I suppose. ”
“A shame, especially if you’d be ready.” Tavio made a sympathetic clucking sound. “But more time to recover isn’t a bad thing. And I have a proposition for you in your downtime.”
“Of course you do.” My voice was fond, but I kept my gaze pointed. I owed so much to Tavio and had tremendous respect for his sharp mind, even as his tendency to always have an ulterior motive made my jaw clench.
“I think you might like this idea. The Hollyberry Ballet has had a rough couple of seasons, as has the theater.”
Tavio knew how to pluck at my sympathies.
I’d taken my first ballet class at Hollyberry Ballet School, had my first performances in the Hollyberry Grand Theater.
I met Tavio there when he’d been a guest performer in the twilight of his career.
Under his and his wife’s encouragement, I’d taken my training to new levels and left my little suburb behind.
Tavio, on the other hand, had retired in Hollyberry, making the small, local company his pet project as his wife also now taught at the school.
“We need this year’s The Nutcracker to be a resounding success. And I need an experienced Cavelier as a draw.”
“Tavio…” I groaned because even a satellite could spot where this was headed.
“Hear me out.” He clapped me on the shoulder as if to still my escape.
“We have the most promising student since you graced our halls. Victoria. She has a place waiting for her to study in New York next year. She’s wowed all the summer programs. She’s a star in the making, and she could benefit tremendously from working with you. ”
“You want her to dance the Sugar Plum Fairy?” I couldn’t keep my skepticism at bay.
The Hollyberry Ballet Company was tiny, with only a handful of professional dancers, all of whom had side hustles to make ends meet, and they used students to fill out nearly every production.
Usually, the company gave a company dancer the biggest parts of the annual production or brought in a guest artist, as they had with Tavio all those years ago.
“Not entirely.” Releasing my shoulder, Tavio made a vague gesture.
“Rudy, the school’s new assistant director, had the idea of adding a public school show on Friday morning as part of an effort to reach out more to area schools in a bid for more funding and students.
Victoria will dance on Friday, and Cheryl from the company will do the weekend public shows. All we need is you.”
“All you need.” I echoed him dryly. “And what if I’m not fully ready? That’s a lot riding on my rehab.”
“You just said you could have been.” Tavio cocked his head, studying me the way a cat might a cornered mouse.
“You’ll need to be ready by February anyway, right?
This way, you can shake off the dust and get on stage in a low-pressure environment.
If we need to, we can modify your variations or even omit them entirely. ”
“Hmmm.” I pursed my lips. I missed performing the way a dolphin would miss the ocean. The chance to dance a part I could almost do in my sleep at this point was indeed tempting, especially if I didn’t have to guarantee my body would let me nail a solo by December.
“Your mother would be overjoyed to have you home for the holidays.” Tavio narrowed his eyes. Around us, the party swirled on, glasses clinking, appetizers circulating, guests laughing, seemingly no one inclined to make an early night of it.
“She would.” I released a long breath. I’d already decided to accept, but I’d let him press his case a little longer.
“And it would give you more time to work with your new PT regimen.”
“True.”
I kept my tone disinterested, a skill honed over years where the fine line between too eager and too aloof was critical.
I had to admit as well that being wanted felt warm and familiar, a lovely contrast to the cooly professional reception from my longtime company.
They were sympathetic to my injury and invested in my recovery to principal dancer form, but at the same time, a line of younger dancers in the company were more than ready to take my place.
The company didn’t need me in the way Tavio and Hollyberry needed me.
“You’re tempted.” As a former dancer himself, Tavio knew exactly what I was doing, stringing him along before I accepted.
“I do owe a lot to the school.” I graced him with a nod. “And you.”
“Don’t do it for me.” As always, Tavio waved away the praise. “Do it for you. A good warm-up to when you’re fully back. Doing it for the school is a nice bonus. The whole production would benefit tremendously simply from having you around.”
“I suppose this isn’t your worst idea.” It was as close to an enthusiastic yes as he was going to get from me.
“Excellent.” He rubbed his hands together. “I can’t wait to tell Margie. And Rudy.”
“Who’s Rudy again?” I asked. Margie, I knew well.
She’d been my first ballet teacher, years before becoming the director of the school.
She had also become a close friend of my mother’s over the years.
In fact, I was surprised I hadn’t seen her yet tonight.
She was one of the few people I’d go out of my way to greet, especially since I’d been following her recent cancer journey.
According to my mom, Margie had a great prognosis, but I still would have liked to see her infectious smile.
I was taking Tavio’s proposition in no small part due to my fondness for Margie, but I’d never heard of this Rudy before.
“The de facto assistant director of the school.” Tavio snagged a triangular appetizer of some sort from a passing tray. “Margie’s youngest son. He’s been such a help while she dealt with her illness and recovery.”
“Isn’t he still in high school?” I had a fuzzy memory of Margie having a sticky-faced preschooler around the time I’d left home and even fuzzier memories of a knobby-kneed kid on my rare visits home.
“You’re getting old, Alexander.” Tavio gave a hearty laugh. “Rudy is twenty-four now. Out of college and full of plans to get us more funding. Margie didn’t want to admit she needed assistance, but the board insisted, so Rudy stepped in.”
“I suppose that’s a good thing.” I frowned, suddenly feeling every minute of my thirty-four years and not liking it one bit.
“And there they are.” Tavio waved Margie over. Her hair was shorter, and she’d noticeably dropped weight from her already-slim frame, but her wide smile was the same as always. She was trailed by the same fellow from catering I’d spoken with earlier.
“I’m good on drinks, thanks,” I said quickly before the server could reveal anything about how I’d been hurting earlier.
“Uh.” The guy blinked at me, big brown eyes set against a pale, almost elfin face. “Not with catering, sorry.”
Wait. Tavio had said they, hadn’t he? Internally, I released a groan of epic proportions while keeping my expression carefully neutral.
“Alexander, this is Rudy.” Tavio’s tone was mildly scolding. And he didn’t know the full extent of my mistake. “And of course, you know Margie.”
“As if I could ever forget.” I turned my best smile on Margie, hoping that if I simply ignored him, Rudy might let my earlier mistaken assumption slide.
“Oh, how I’ve missed your charm.” Margie welcomed me with a tight hug. She smelled like roses, the scent bringing back hundreds of classes led by her melodic voice.
“Luckily, you’ll be seeing a lot more of that famous charm.” Tavio smiled broadly. Neither he nor Margie had any idea how hard I had to work for that charm these days, not that I had any intention of correcting them. “Alexander has graciously agreed to be our Cavalier for The Nutcracker this year.”
“Wonderful.” Margie clapped her hands together.
“Are you sure you’ll be ready?” Next to her, Rudy frowned.
I’d presumed I’d been in the wrong for assuming Rudy was a server, but what if the mistake had been intentional?
Had he been scouting, wanting to see for himself what sort of shape I was in?
I was no stranger to such games, but I didn’t much care for the thought that Rudy’s quiet wisdom had been a front.
“I’m sure.”
I glared at him. I was irritated with myself as much as him, mad that I cared and also mad that I’d had even the briefest of flirtatious thoughts toward Margie’s son. As if.