Finley
I’m so glad that Eddie planned this “before” tour of the newly remodeled studio, because if I had to go through this with the crowd waiting in anticipation for the ribbon-cutting in an hour, I would have been humiliated. And without mascara.
I can’t even see the rest, because I’m too caught up in the photo of me and Mom dancing the piece from Coppélia. It’s so beautiful. Everything about this place is beautiful. It’s like they changed it but without removing all the traces of what it was. We’ve got a ramp outside now and a wheelchair elevator to go down to the lower level. It’s everything I could have hoped for and more.
Eddie hooks an arm around my waist and kisses my cheek. “Come on, let’s see the studios downstairs. I wrote you a love song, and I’m gonna perform it for you.”
I laugh and wipe away the remaining tears from my face. “No love songs. I won’t be able to take it.”
“So marriage proposals are out too?”
I groan. “You’ve been spending way too much time with my dad.”
Sophie, who was my mom’s top student for years, brushes past me, and she looks almost as wrecked as I am. I give her a pat on the shoulder and a tissue from my pocket. I’d been around for a lot of the construction, but so much came together over the last month that it’s really a transformation to me.
After I’ve seen the entire studio—and become dehydrated from all the tears shed—I clean off my face in the bathroom and then head outside where we’ve already got a big crowd gathered for the ribbon-cutting. As much as I’d love to believe they’re all here to be the first to sign up for lessons or welcome an old business to the neighborhood again, I know the truth. Many of them are here to meet a movie star.
When an SUV with tinted windows pulls up in front of the building, I nearly cover my ears from the screams that erupt. Eddie and I are some of the few people who know where Toby Rhinehart’s real house is, and it turns out he only lives about an hour away from us in Greenwich.
He’s behind the wheel, and I about have a heart attack, thinking he might be stupid enough to drive here alone, but then Rocko, the bearded giant, steps out of the backseat first. Eddie’s got Mason in his baby carrier, and they disappear into the crowd. Eddie’s very worried about Mason ending up in photos, especially one of them together. He doesn’t have any contact with his family, except Ruby on occasion, and he’s happy with that. I imagine it’s Caroline seeing him with Mason that worries him most.
Two more tinted SUVs pull up behind Toby’s, and a whole team of security swarms the place. I can’t believe he’s doing this ribbon-cutting. He’s insane. Not that I’m complaining, but still…
News cameras are everywhere, paparazzi, reporters shouting out questions. I smile when I see Gretchen and Bessy, Toby’s daughters, who are eight and ten. Both are sporting ballerina buns and little girl versions of the tutu dresses Chanel designed that I’m wearing on a billboard in Soho. They look precious. Toby insists that he’s enrolling them in Belton Academy. Even though I know our instruction will be better than other dance schools, it might not be enough to make an hour-long drive just for ballet class.
I give my dad’s hand a squeeze, and then I greet Toby’s girls before ushering them over to my grandma, who’s keeping an eye on them for a little while. Toby also prefers they not end up in any photos. His people have the media pretty well trained on who to include and who not to include. That is if they ever want an exclusive again.
Dad, Sophie, and I all say a few words to the crowd, and then Toby gets up there and gives an amazing speech about how he met me and how supportive he is of the arts and my efforts to promote healthy body image through the Chanel ballet line that shows models and dancers who are a healthy weight and taking good care of themselves, etc… He’s good. Very good.
Finally, he cuts the ribbon—ballet pink with pointe shoes attached to each end—and I back away as the crowd rushes over to Toby’s autograph table inside. He’s signing Belton Academy gear. As in you buy gear, he signs it. His idea, not mine. I search the crowd for Eddie, and my gaze locks with his. I tear up again but get it under control quickly and instead mouth, “thank you.”
• • •
“So, kiddo,” my dad says, waving a hand to the dance studio in front of us, full of a select group of people invited to a post-ribbon-cutting party. “Is it everything you wanted?”
I smile at him. “Yeah and more, I think. Definitely more.”
Eddie’s entertaining the room with some jazz piano improv. My dad bought him a top hat, and he’s created this new identity under its spell. That’s not entirely true. He works at a local piano bar a few nights a week and on weekends. He serves food and drinks and sometimes entertains the audience when the regular players are on break or call in sick.
On the other side of the room, my grandma is hovering over one of Toby’s daughters while she holds Mason in her lap.
“Finley?”
I turn around and try not to look surprised by the presence of Eddie’s sister. “Ruby, hi… I didn’t realize you were coming tonight.”
“Last-minute decision.” She gives me a tight smile. “I hardly recognized you…the hair is…”
My face flushes. “Eddie’s over there, at the piano.”
“Right.” She doesn’t move. “How’s he doing? I mean school and whatever?”
Eddie started classes at the local community college this past January. He finished up the semester a few weeks ago and did great. All As, I think. My dad talked him into getting a teaching degree. He always says it’s the best fallback. When he couldn’t get his wheelchair into his place of business, he was still able to get a job and pay the bills because of that teaching degree. Truth is, Eddie would make a fantastic teacher. He loves kids. I doubt it will be his plan B.
“He’s doing well.” I glance at her. She looks nervous. “You should go say hi.”
Eddie’s playing a high-energy tune, and my dad has joined him with a saxophone. I walk past Connor and Braden and say, “Did they talk you into playing tambourine or something?”
Ruby instead heads over to see Mason.
I take a seat beside Eddie on the piano bench. “I’m ready for that love song now.”
“Oh yeah?” He grins at me and immediately shifts to something slow and romantic. I watch as Toby’s girls try to get Connor and Braden to waltz with them. Connor dives under the refreshment table, and Braden steps on one of their toes and then starts practicing karate moves, complete with cartwheels in the center of the room. Several of my dance company friends are here, and I love them to death—don’t get me wrong—but they are incapable of leaving a dance floor empty.
“Did you see Ruby?” I ask, and Eddie gives me a smile. His smile says that he’s glad she’s here.
He ends his song and lets my dad take over with a saxophone solo. I lean against him and enjoy the view. “I’m looking forward to the future.”
“Me too,” Eddie says, whispering in my ear. “Later.”
I laugh. “I mean the future future. Like when I’m too old and injured to dance, and I get to come here and see this every day. Maybe have my own kids running around. My hot thirtysomething husband, playing the piano and doing important things with power drills.”
He tosses a leg over the bench and pulls me between his legs so we can both watch everything happening. “A thirtysomething husband? Anyone I know?”
I smile to myself. “Maybe.” Eddie rests his chin on my shoulder, and I look up at him. “Would you do that? Have more kids someday? Even with Mason—”
“No more than six,” he says immediately. God, my dad really has been a terrible influence. He turns serious again. “I think so. Of course, we’re gonna have to deal with the trust fund from Grandma issue yet again.”
“You can raise kids to not be ruined by money,” I say. “Mason won’t be affected by it. I know it. Not with you and the Kingsleys around.”
He kisses my shoulder. “Not with you around.”
My dad takes a break from saxophone, but Eddie doesn’t return to playing piano, and everyone still continues dancing, even with no music. We sit there for a long time, watching.
My mind drifts to the fact that I’m only nineteen. And Eddie’s only nineteen. And we’ve already risen above so much. Lord knows what else is in store for us. But I let that fleeting thought pass me by, because sometimes all there is left to do is savor these perfect moments.