Page 12 of Just Like Home

“She doesn’t eat pancakes,” Betsy called out as Lucy led Charlotte toward a booth near the back of the restaurant.

“She does today!”

Lucy was just like Julianna had described her. She was a little loud, smiled with her whole face, and never met a stranger.

Something about that comforted Charlotte.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Lucy said, settling in to the booth.

“I can’t either,” Charlotte said. “Are you sure it’s okay? You probably didn’t really mean for me to come.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I did.” Lucy grinned. “I never say anything I don’t mean. Are you going to run the dance studio? I heard they canceled their spring recital.”

“Maybe?” The idea hadn’t stopped nagging her since the day Lucy mentioned it. She could buy Julianna’s studio, teach and begin an entirely new life.

Charlotte had never fancied herself a teacher, but she’d held masterclasses and workshops over the years. She’d always enjoyed it, which was unlike her mother, who only taught because she could no longer perform.

“You’d be amazing,” Lucy said.

“Well, I’m off to a great start. I crashed into Cole Turner’s truck.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “You crashed the vintage Chevy?”

Charlotte grimaced. “He was pretty mad. I mean, of all the people I don’t want mad at me, Julianna’s brother is at the top of the list.”

Lucy waggled her eyebrows. “Julianna’s very good-looking brother.”

So Charlotte wasn’t crazy. Colewasstill beautiful. She’d thought it as soon as she realized who he was, but he’d doused that feeling the second he turned rude.

“Okay.” Lucy waved her hand in the air. “We’ll deal with that later. Now let’s talk about you. Did they finally give you some time off at the ballet?”

“Not exactly,” Charlotte said. “I kind of took a leave.”

“For how long?”

“Forever?” Charlotte’s voice turned up at the end, as if it were a question. “I mean, maybe forever, I don’t know.” How did she explain what had come over her when even she wasn’t sure it made sense? “Julianna’s death—” Charlotte’s voice betrayed her. “I’m just reevaluating things, is all.”

After the funeral, Julianna’s choice to leave the ballet all those years ago made sense.

And Charlotte’s choice to stay did not.

Lucy nodded soberly. She didn’t say so, but Charlotte thought she understood, at least as much as she could. After all, not many people could truly understand what life as a principal dancer in the Chicago City Ballet had really been like. Years of living up to other people’s expectations of her—years of striving to be the best, as if being the best was all that mattered—it had taken a toll.

And the truth was, Charlotte hadn’t taken a leave. She’d quit. She’d walked out, broke her contract, burned the bridge.

There was no turning back.

“I saw you at the funeral,” Charlotte said.

“You were there?” Lucy stilled.

Charlotte straightened. “I stayed at the back. I didn’t want to interfere. Everyone knew her so much differently than I did.”

Lucy reached across the table and covered Charlotte’s hand. “That’s not true. We just saw her more often.”

Charlotte blinked to keep the tears from falling. “Two days after the funeral, I found this in my mailbox.” She pulled out the lavender envelope.

Lucy took it and smiled. “Leave it to Jules to still send snail mail.”

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