Was this crazy? Who did she think she was stepping into this precious town with a grand plan to buy the dance studio and . . . what? Become Julianna’s replacement?
If she was smart, she’d get back in the beat-up Jetta and drive straight back to Chicago, where she could beg for her job back and chalk this whole episode up to delusion brought on by exhaustion.
But no.
It wasn’t exhaustion that had brought her here. It was the innate feeling that something was missing. Julianna’s letters were so full of life, just like she had been. She wrote about things Charlotte knew nothing of—and while Charlotte had always brushed off Julianna’s small town musings, something inside her had shifted now that her best friend was gone.
What if bigger wasn’t best?
Sure, she’d achieved professional success—she was arguably one of the top ballerinas in the nation. Maybe even the world. An elite athlete. She’d trained her entire life to get where she was, which was why it was a crazy move to walk away.
But it didn’t feel crazy. It felt smart. Necessary. It felt like she’d made a decision for herself for the first time in her life.
She wanted to experience just a sliver of what Julianna had. Suddenly, it was Charlotte’s world—not her friend’s—that held no appeal.
A few minutes later, the front door of the diner swung open and in walked a leggy redhead wearing a navy blue dress with white polka dots on it and a wide red belt.
Lucy Fitzgerald.
Julianna had written to her about her spunky friend who wrote for the local newspaper.
Jules was a great writer, and Lucy was easy to recognize by her descriptions. Charlotte had spotted her at the funeral too, but she hadn’t dared introduce herself. Grieving was easier if she remained anonymous. It wasn’t hard. Lucy had been surrounded by friends, and while Charlotte was accustomed to standing out when she performed, she was also used to being invisible offstage.
She’d perfected it, really.
Betsy appeared in the doorway of the kitchen in time to see Lucy gasp at the sight of Charlotte. Lucy brought both hands to her mouth and let out a squeal. “Charlotte?!”
Oh, thank goodness, Charlotte thought, thankful Lucy seemed genuinely happy to see her. Charlotte couldn’t help but think of the way Julianna had always brought people together. Here she was, doing it even after she was gone.
Lucy pulled Charlotte off the stool and into a tight hug—the tightest hug, in fact, that Charlotte had ever been pulled into. Lucy was one of Jules’s closest “real life” friends. Because of that classification, and Charlotte’s as a “long-distance” friend, Charlotte had never felt competitive with Lucy.
Now, wrapped in the other woman’s arms, she felt the loss of their mutual friend more deeply than she had, even when Lucy had called her with the news. Grieving alone was easier.
And yet, Charlotte felt an odd comfort in the arms of this stranger.
“I can’t believe it’s you!” Lucy pulled away. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
Charlotte tried to keep her eyes from watering and her voice from shaking. She tried to rid herself of all the telltale signs she was cracking up, but she had a feeling she wasn’t a very good liar.
“Did you not really mean for me to come?” Charlotte asked.
“No.” Lucy squeezed Charlotte’s arms. “I mean, yes, I just didn’t think you would.”
Lucy knew about Charlotte because Julianna was chatty, and though the two women had never met, Lucy had thought to call her with news of Julianna’s accident. It was the worst phone call Charlotte had ever received.
She’d just finished rehearsal and the office assistant at the ballet found her in the hallway. “You have a phone call in the office,” she’d said.
It was strange. Nobody called Charlotte. But it was the only way Lucy could get a hold of her without asking Connor to hand over his wife’s phone.
After she explained who she was, Lucy said, “Charlotte, Julianna’s gone.”
“Gone where?” Charlotte asked—stupidly, she now realized.
“She pulled out into an intersection and a guy plowed right into her minivan. He was texting and driving.” Lucy paused. “She was dead when they found her.”
The word hung on the line between them. Dead. It was as if it had been translated incorrectly, like whatever had really happened to Julianna wasn’t being communicated.
“Charlotte? Are you there?”
A deep dread carved itself a home inside of her as she tried to process what Lucy had told her. Dead? Julianna was young—Charlotte’s age. She had a husband and kids. How could this have happened?
Death comes unexpectedly.
Before they got off the phone, Charlotte jotted down the details of the funeral and then Lucy said, “Look, if you ever need to get away, you can always come here. Maybe you could help with the dance studio? Julianna has a lot of students who are going to be lost without her.”
Charlotte went through the motions of the next few days, expecting to “go back to normal”—whatever that meant, but normal never came, only the haunting knowledge that something was missing. Maybe losing the only person you could genuinely call “friend” was meant to turn you inside out.
“Let’s get breakfast, you can tell me everything,” Lucy said, swiping Charlotte’s bag off the back of the chair. “Betsy, can you bring us two number two’s?”
“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. Cole was still 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?”