“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.”
“We’ve always written letters,” Charlotte said. “Ever since we were kids.”
“I know,” Lucy said. “She told me.”
Charlotte smiled at that. Somehow, the knowledge of it made her feel seen. Or maybe it made her feel known.
And everything inside of her wanted to be known. Maybe that was part of it—Harbor Pointe was filled with people who knew Jules, people who loved her and still mourned her.
Charlotte had realized somewhere in the passing days that if she died, the conversation would be about who would replace her at the ballet, not about how much they would miss her. Nobody would miss her, especially not now, with Julianna gone.
Something inside her broke at the thought of it.
One of the servers appeared with their food. “Two number two’s.”
Lucy grinned. “You’re about to have the breakfast of your life.”
Charlotte looked down at the plate—very different from her usual morning meal. Pancakes. Eggs. Bacon. Hash browns. Orange juice.
“And don’t even think about not finishing it all.”
“This is more food than I eat in a day,” Charlotte said.
“Obviously.” Lucy gave Charlotte a once-over and started cutting her pancakes into bite-sized pieces. “So, the letter?” she prodded.
“Right.” Charlotte stuck her fork into her scrambled eggs. “It was like her description of this place spoke to my soul,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “And believe me, I know how stupid that sounds.”
“It doesn’t,” Lucy said, piling three pieces of pancake onto her fork and dragging them through a puddle of maple syrup. “It makes perfect sense to me. You need rest. And who can blame you? You’ve been working since you were how old? Like fifteen or something?”
“Eight.”
Lucy frowned. “Eight?”
Charlotte nodded. “I got my first professional job when I was eight.”
“Good grief.”
Charlotte sighed. “I do need a break.” But more than that, Charlotte needed to call her own shots for a while. She needed to figure out who Charlotte Page was when she wasn’t on that stage.
She pushed her plate of uneaten pancakes away and pulled her mug toward her, warming her hands with it.
Lucy swallowed another bite of her breakfast. “Where are you staying?”
Charlotte shrugged. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
Lucy laughed. “This is so spontaneous, Charlotte.”
Was that another word for “foolish”?
“I know,” Charlotte said with a groan. “And not at all like me.”
“You’ll stay with me. Case closed.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
“Please, I have a great guest room with its own bathroom and a view of the lake,” Lucy said.
As they walked out of the diner twenty minutes later, Lucy slid her arm through Charlotte’s, making her feel, for only the second time in her life, like she’d actually made a friend.
When she exhaled, she felt a healthy dose of worry leave her body. And she had the craziest feeling everything was going to be okay.
4
Whatever good feelings Charlotte had had meeting Lucy and getting settled in her adorable lakeside cottage, with a perfect view of the red lighthouse Jules often wrote about in her letters . . . well, they were gone now.
Standing in front of Julianna’s house, she was about to get hit with a healthy dose of reality, and just thinking about it had her on edge.
She glanced down at the envelope in her hand to be sure she had the right place. She did. No more putting it off. She was here because Julianna Ford had drawn her here with her descriptions of a beautiful, charmed, laid-back life. Because Charlotte, who’d spent years being envied by little girls and up-and-coming dancers and most likely everyone in her company, found herself envying her friend and this simple life she’d built.
Everything about Julianna’s world appealed to her. Sure, it likely came with its own pressures and stress, but what would it feel like to be loved and cherished simply for who you were and not how you performed?
She owed it to her friend to do whatever she could to make sure the people she loved, the business she loved, were all okay. She had so much to atone for.
She knocked on the front door and waited, listening to the commotion inside. Connor Ford was a city planner, but that’s about all Charlotte knew about his job. Its title. She’d known Connor only as “Julianna’s boyfriend” and later as the man who took her best friend away.
Not that he had been the reason Jules left the ballet. Charlotte knew better than to assign him that blame—that blame she kept for herself.
Over the years, Julianna had been back to the city only once, when she attended a new Cinderella ballet in which Charlotte was playing the title role.
Charlotte was certain, looking back on it now, that she should’ve reacted differently knowing her friend had come all that way to see her. As it was, she’d been awkward and standoffish, all but blowing them off after the show ended.
She’d been unhappy with her performance, and the fact that Julianna was in the audience made it worse. In truth, she realized later, she’d been acting like a spoiled brat. She’d written Jules the longest letter apologizing and sent her VIP tickets for any future ballet she wanted to attend.
Julianna had never used them. But she did forgive her, that much was obvious, because she had a heart of gold. The kind of heart Charlotte should’ve been striving to have while she was striving for accolades and professional acclaim.