Chapter 17 Holly
Holly
Saturday afternoon class is ending when I walk into the studio. Young dancers streaming past me in pink tights and leotards, little ones showing their parents the bows they practiced today. I did the same thing at that age—big dramatic bows were the best part.
Mrs. Kowalski is at her desk near the barre, putting away rosters and attendance sheets.
She looks up and smiles. “Holly, dear. I’m glad you’re here. Come on in.”
“Hi, Mrs. Kowalski. Big night tonight.”
“The biggest. The kids have been bouncing off the walls all week.” She laughs, shaking her head. “They made me play Waltz of the Flowers during warm-ups today. If I have to hear that music one more time than absolutely necessary.”
“The hazards of Nutcracker season.”
“Every year.” She's organizing papers, not looking at me. “Every single year.”
I readjust the bag on my shoulder. “I was thinking I could inventory the costumes tomorrow if you need. See what needs mending after tonight's final show.”
“Oh, we're good on costumes. All set.”
Her tone is casual. Breezy.
“You sure? I know the party scene jackets were getting worn at the seams.”
“It's handled.” She's up and filing papers now, not quite meeting my eyes. “Yeah, everything's handled. We're in good shape.”
I watch her for a moment. “Okay. Well, how are sign-ups for next term, given all the excitement around the shows? I know enrollment was down last quarter.”
“Actually—” She closes the file cabinet. “We're expanding. Adding new classes.”
“Expanding? Mrs. Kowalski, you were worried about keeping the doors open three months ago.”
“I know.” That proud teacher smile appears. “But we're starting a boys' tap class in January. Ages seven and up. We're calling it 'Rhythm she saves Princess Aurora from the curse—”
“They'll be here for a week in May,” Mrs. Kowalski continues. “Master classes for our advanced students, then they'll perform the leads in our production.”
I can barely process the words. Guest artists. From Seattle Ballet. In Pinewood Falls.
“I need to—” I stand up, reaching for my bag. “Marie, want to walk to the bakery with me?”
“Yes!” She's already grabbing her coat. “And Aurora gets to dance with the Prince, and it's so romantic—”
“We'll see you tonight dear,” Mrs. Kowalski says to Marie, then smiles at me. My smile to her is bewildered, grateful. Hopeful.
We're out the door. The cold air hits my face, but I don't feel anything.
The Holly Bennett Scholarship Fund.
When did he even arrange this? This week. While I wasn't answering his calls. He was making calls to Seattle, setting up scholarships, building something that would last.
I barely register Marie's voice: “—six good fairies, Aunt Holly, did you know there are six? The Fairy of Tenderness and the Fairy of Generosity—”
My feet carry me forward while my mind races.
And he put my name on it. Not his. Like this was something the community built, not something he gave.
“—and the Songbird Fairy, her music sounds like birds singing, and there's the Fairy of Bravery and the Fairy of Liveliness—”
I push open the bakery door. The bell chimes.
Emma is at the back table, elbow-deep in ribbon and cellophane. Gift bags spread across every surface—cookies, candies, little chocolates wrapped in red and gold. One for each kid in tonight's show.
She doesn't look up. “Hey, can you grab more ribbon from the back? I'm almost out of red.”
I just stand there.
Marie bounces past me toward the display case.
Emma glances up. Sees my face.
The ribbon slips from her fingers.
“What happened?”
“Evan made a donation.” My voice doesn't sound like mine. I settle in beside her as she reaches for my hand. “To the dance school.”
Emma's eyes go wide. “How much?”
“An endowment. They're calling it the Holly Bennett Scholarship Fund.”
Her spool of ribbon hits the floor, unrolling across the tile.
“He did what?”
“Scholarships. Performance funds. Guest artists from Seattle Ballet.” Marie is twirling beside us. “They'll never have to worry about money again.”
Emma looks at me for a long moment.
“—and Aurora's costume is pink and gold,” Marie says, examining the cookies through the glass. “And she has a crown, not a tiara, because she's a princess who becomes a queen—”
“He did this,” Emma says, “thinking you guys might be done. Thinking you might never speak again. And he did it anyway.”
I can't answer.
“That's a good guy right there, Holly.” She's holding both of my hands with both of hers now. “That's someone who sees you and wants to support what matters to you. Romantic relationship or not.”
“—and when Aurora wakes up, it's because a hundred years passed, that's what the Lilac Fairy's spell said—”
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out. My hands are shaking.
Evan's name on the screen.
Evan
I'm in Pinewood Falls. I brought Jocelyn. There are more bookstore events today, and she wanted to come. We don't want to interfere, but we'd love to support the show tonight if that's okay. I understand if it's not.
I stare at the words.
“I understand if it's not.”
He's here. Right now. In my town.
I'm typing.
When did you get here?
Delete it. Type something else.
Coffee shop. Main Street. 15 minutes.
His response is immediate.
I'll be there.
I look up at Emma.
“If you don't go to that man right now—” She's already shooing me toward the door.
“I need to—”
“Go. I've got this.”
I duck into the bakery bathroom. Splash cold water on my face. Look at myself in the mirror—pale, wild-eyed.
I pinch my cheeks, trying to will some color into them.
“You can do this,” I whisper to my reflection. “He showed up. Now you show up.”
One more breath. Then I'm out the door, back into the cold.
I can hear my boots on the sidewalk. Each step too loud. A car passes. Someone calls out a greeting—I don't register who. The Christmas lights sway in the wind.
Every sense turned up too high.
My breath makes clouds in the cold air. Two blocks now. The coffee shop sign is visible ahead, the lights in the window warm against the December gray.
And standing in front of it—
Evan.
Hands in his coat pockets. Looking down the street.
Looking for me.
He sees me.
He goes still and I stop walking.
Twenty feet of sidewalk between us.