THE NIGHT BEFORE the recital, Josie stood in the studio, alone again. She wasn’t dancing like she had earlier that week when Stuart found her.
Instead, she held a hammer in one hand and the final framed shot of her as a young dancer she’d removed from the wall in the other.
A knock sounded on the front door. She was shocked to come around the corner and see Jennifer Plowman, her former dance instructor and one of the most well-respected ballerinas to grace the American stage, standing on the sidewalk.
Jennifer had risen to prominence between the eras of Martha Graham and Misty Copeland. Josie remembered feeling both grateful for and terrified of working under the demanding teacher’s tutelage.
Jennifer was in her mid-seventies now, and unlike Josie, hadn’t allowed the years to soften her dancer’s slim figure. Her hair was drawn into a severe bun as she stood in regal splendor, like a queen waiting to be shown into the parlor.
Josie hurriedly opened the door. “I thought you were arriving tomorrow,” she said as she watched a black luxury sedan pull away from the curb.
Jennifer sniffed and dabbed at her trademark red lips. “It’s supposed to storm in New York tomorrow. I didn’t want to take a chance on my flight being delayed. It isn’t every day that I get to be a special guest at my former star pupil’s dance academy recital.”
Josie laughed softly and picked up Jennifer’s monogrammed luggage to bring it into the studio. “Dance academy might be a stretch. It’s a sweet little operation but not impressive on a grand scale.”
“Do not make yourself small,” Jennifer said in her subtle British accent. She’d come to America in the late sixties after a working-class upbringing outside of London. It was rumored that George Harrison had written a song about her. Jennifer was the kind of woman to inspire men in that way. Her confidence and charisma were legendary.
Even before the back injury that ended Josie’s career, she knew she would never reach the heights her mentor had. She had the talent but not the chutzpah for fame.
Gazing around her studio as she gave Jennifer a tour made her realize she didn’t much care. It was as Stuart had said. She’d created a good life in Magnolia. A life that made her happy.
“You’re right. I’m proud of my studio and the dancers I’ve taught. Each one of them has meant something to me.”
Jennifer took her hand and studied her. “You always had a heart as big as your talent, my dear. But I sense something has changed.”
“Well, yes.” Josie looked toward the wall of photos she’d just finished mounting. Had her former dance master seen pictures online of the way the studio had looked before? “I took down the photos of myself as a young dancer because they are the past and this space is about my present life and the future.”
“The photos of you with the children are lovely, but that’s not the change to which I’m referring.” Jennifer inclined her head. “The last time we spoke, there was an edge to your voice. The joy I’d come to rely on was not there. Now it is. What brought it back?” She indicated the painted backdrops against the far wall. “Is it the anticipation of the recital?”
Josie’s heart fluttered at the thought that she could be read so easily, although Jennifer knew her better than most. “It’s embarrassing to admit at my age,” she said as she tugged her hand away. “But it’s love. I’m in love.”
“With your bookstore owner,” Jennifer said, as if it were obvious.
“Wait. How could you know that? I didn’t even realize it until very recently.”
“I’ve heard you talk about him over the years. It was obvious. I simply thought you were living out your own version of a Merchant Ivory film complete with repressed feelings, misguided regrets and a healthy dose of melancholy.”
Josie huffed out a laugh. “That sounds rather awful.”
“I might have lived in America for most of my life,” Jennifer said, lifting her chin. “But I’m still British to the core. We appreciate unrequited love the same way we do a perfect cuppa.”
Josie placed a hand to her chest to try to quell the rising tide of emotion there as she understood she’d loved Stuart for far longer than she’d realized.
“He told me he loves me, and I didn’t say the words in return,” she admitted in a hushed tone.
“Why?”
“I’m still afraid of being hurt.”
“How does it feel to think of losing this man?”
“It hurts almost more than I can bear. He told me he doesn’t want to date me. He wants more. Everything. And that he needs to know I want that, too.”
“So you must tell him,” Jennifer said as if it were that simple.
Josie sighed. “I’ve been on my own for a long time. Most of my life at this point. I’m at peace with who I am. I’ve stopped feeling like the passing years are a roll call of the things I’ve missed. I’m afraid of being hurt, but I’m also terrified of giving up my independence.”
“My dear, loving the right man is about adding to your life. Adding the ability to give and receive love. Stuart is this man’s name, yes?”
Josie nodded.
“He’s a good person?”
“Yes.”
“He cherishes and adores you?”
A sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh bubbled up in Josie’s throat. “He cherishes and adores me. When you say it like that...”
“It’s your responsibility to allow him to cherish and adore you. This does not negate your independence. You can be a strong woman with a protective, supportive partner.”
“But you were never with a man in that way.”
Jennifer’s smile turned wistful. “True, but I like to think I would have welcomed love into my heart if given a chance. You have such a big heart, Josie. Open it. Otherwise, you are going to regret it and that’s a difficult way to live.”
Suddenly, the fears that had held Josie in thrall for so long seemed to loosen their grip. They didn’t disappear entirely, but she knew she could overcome them and that Stuart was worth taking the risk.
He’d put his heart on the line for her and deserved the same kind of devotion in return. As she glanced around the space that allowed her to live her best life, she had an idea of exactly how to show him what he meant to her.