by Sara Celi
Relief flooded through me. Yes. Yes. This was what I wanted. Yes. I cleared my throat and hoped my expression gave away nothing. “That’s great news.”
Kendra raised her left eyebrow. “Apparently she believes expectation is building for classes in our area, and now that the virus is waning and people are vaccinated, she wants to take a leap.”
“You’re the best person to help her.” Simple fact. I couldn’t think of anyone better.
“Thanks.” She blushed. “That’s really kind of you to say.”
“It’s absolutely true.”
The server returned with Kendra’s sparkling water and the beer cheese appetizer, which she placed on the table between us. Kenda thanked her, and I downed a large gulp of my beer, the bitter ale sliding down my throat.
“What exactly would you be doing?” I asked when the server walked away for a second time.
“Not sure yet. Nancy doesn’t offer any of those classes right now, and she said she wants someone to design a program for students ages ten and older that we’d—she’d—offer three or four days a week. She said there would be room for expansion.”
“So, you’d almost be like the head of a division?”
“Something like that. I guess. I don’t know. Maybe so.”
“Well.” I smiled and raised my glass. “Cheers to the possibility.”
Kendra raised her water. “Cheers.”
We clinked and drank. As we did, I looked at her over the rim of my glass. This was great news, and I loved hearing it. To know I possibly had something to do with the gorgeous—relieved—smile on Kendra’s face was incredible. I savored it. And in some ways, just like Kyle had reached out to me for work, I needed Kendra’s win almost as much as she did.
Cheers indeed.
KENDRA
“Thanks again for inviting me out tonight,” I said about an hour later. Empty plates of beer cheese and the remains of our dinner were in front of us on the table. “I really needed this.”
“Me too.” Seth narrowed his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it, and it’s been forever since I had such a wide-ranging conversation with someone. Job news, current events, the royal family . . .” He spread a hand. “Tanner Vance’s latest movie . . .”
“Don’t forget the vacations we’re going to take once Europe opens up for travel.”
“Yes. Santorini, here we come.”
“I’m on the first flight.”
We both laughed, and Seth took his wallet from his back pocket. Part of my stomach sank; I didn’t want this dinner to end. It felt like something we’d do in the Before Time, except that—we never did do it. I was always too busy catching up with friends and spending time with my dad during my quick weekends home from New York, and despite the promise our conversations at The Frosted Heart always seemed to have, Seth never followed through on any of them.
“One more thing the pandemic changed,” I mused.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
I gaped, not meaning to have said the last part of my thoughts aloud. “Oh, just that . . . well, before this mess, we would have never sat down for a dinner like this. We might have thought about it or talked about it, but we’d never have done it.”
“No, we wouldn’t. I’m sorry about that.”
“I am too.”
Seth took his credit card from his wallet and signaled the waiter. “It’s funny how I used to live. I’d put things off and take moments in life for granted.”
“Yep.”
“Have you been thinking about that a lot?”
I nodded. “I’d tell myself that I’d see someone in a few weeks, or that I’d catch up with them later, and it didn’t really matter if I broke plans with them.” I looked down at my used plate and the crumbs of one of the best nights that I’d had in a long time. “If there is one thing this virus taught me, it’s that I can’t live like that. Tomorrow isn’t promised, and I shouldn’t live like it is.”
“No, we shouldn’t.”
I looked up and allowed my gaze to catch Seth’s. “Thanks for inviting me to dinner. You have no idea how much I needed it.”
“I can guess.”
“When I had to leave New York, it was really devastating.”
I gulped. This was a conversation I hadn’t had with anyone, not even my father. Since coming home, I’d been focused on two things—helping him stay away from the virus and paying for our monthly expenses. That hadn’t left a lot of room for dwelling on the fallout of what had happened to me.
“It was one of the hardest decisions that I ever had to make.”
“I can imagine it was.” Seth pursed his lips. “I know you got that promotion at American Dance just before this all happened. It had to have been hard to leave that behind.”
“It was.”
I winced as the memory of my last full day at the company surfaced. I’d gone to the practice facility as normal, ignoring the headlines blowing up my phone. There was a virus out there, and the cases were escalating by the hour, but I hadn’t thought that affected me in any way. I wasn’t on a cruise ship; I didn’t live in a nursing home. I was young, so what did it matter? But as soon as I arrived at work, I was called to the director’s office. “I’m sorry,” Frank Martin, the ADC’s executive director, said from behind his imposing oak desk. “I know this is going to be a hard thing to hear, but we have to cancel our upcoming season. The board met this morning and we don’t see how we can continue to fund it in the wake of this.” It took me a few moments to first understand what he meant by this, and then to completely comprehend what the consequences for me would be.
It finally sunk in when they gave me three thousand dollars in severance pay. At least they’d offered me severance pay. That was more than most people I knew in the performing arts received. The money had been enough to pack up my apartment and move back home. I knew I should be grateful, but the shock still hurt.
“I have to do a lot of things in order to make ends meet,” I added now as I spoke to Seth. “It hasn’t been easy.”
“No, I imagine it hasn’t. Even though I had to close the nightclub, perhaps I should consider myself lucky that I didn’t have to move to a different state on top of that. I can’t fathom how hard that has been for you, Kendra. I’m sorry.”
I looked away, allowing myself to focus on the rest of the dining room at Sam’s Deli. It wasn’t crowded, a fact that still made me a little sad, a lingering reminder of all that had changed since the virus became part of our daily lives. The virus had raged long enough for people to alter their habits. Would I ever see a full restaurant again? It was a question I didn’t have a solid answer for.
“I know you know I’m working at FoodSwap,” I said. “I was embarrassed that you saw that.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I returned my attention to Seth. “Maybe not, but I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wondered if my life would be different if I had just done the sensible thing and gone to college instead of running off to New York to pursue my dancing dream. I would have had something to fall back on, and God knows I could have used that now.”
“Even if you had a degree, there’s no guarantee that would have given you the edge in the job search. Plenty of people are finding that out.” Seth laughed without humor. “I have an MBA from IU, and it hasn’t done me any good.”
“You do?”
“It’s tough out there. And I’m still lucky that a friend allowed me to work at his pizza joint.” He spread a hand. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve had a decent string of good fortune either.”
“You’ll get back in the nightclub business,” I said. “You will.”
Seth shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want to.” The server arrived at our table and Seth handed over his card without looking at the bill. “To be honest, I’m enjoying helping Kyle run the restaurant. He’s got a vision, and I think we will have a lot of success when we open the outdoor dining in a week or so. A lot of people a
round here will enjoy it.”
“That’s good.” I paused and thought about it. “Maybe that’s what this pandemic has done. It’s given us a chance to make a reset.”
“We could all use that sometimes.”
“You’re right.”
The server returned with the check, and Seth signed it. For the first time in forever, I felt genuinely hopeful and lighter. It had been a hard period for everyone, and no one was unaffected by the many changes, but the stress and strife had brought good things too. It strengthened my relationship with my dad, made me realize the value of a hard day’s work, and allowed me the chance to reconnect with people I wanted more of in my life, Seth being paramount among them. And in two days, I had a chance to start my career in a new way. I might be bruised and battered, but I wasn’t dead.
Not at all.
“Shall we?” Seth asked after he closed the bill.
“We shall.”
We exited the restaurant and strode out into the parking lot that united Sam’s Deli with the rest of downtown Watch Hill. I buttoned my blazer and hunched my shoulders against the nighttime breeze.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“Not really. It feels kind of nice. I always enjoy this time of year, because soon it will be shorts and T-shirt weather. I like the transitions.”
“I do too.” Seth gestured at the arched pathway between the parking lot and the street. If we walked through, we’d pass The Pink Box, Already Perked coffee shop, and a few other stores lining the main route to the town square. “Want to take a walk?”
“I wish I could, but I need to get back.” I hesitated. “I don’t want to be gone too long with my dad’s health the way that it is.”
“Understandable.” Seth’s expression fell a little; my refusal had disappointed him. “Well, let me at least walk you to your car.”
“Thanks.” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “It’s that way.”
It was only a few hundred yards to the car, but I moved as slowly as I could, conscious that I was drawing it out, making it last as long as possible. I wanted to savor every moment, wanted to memorize every second. Being with Seth was refreshing, but also a mix of old and new I hadn’t expected to get back.
And here it was, right in front of me.
“This is my car,” I said when we arrived at the SUV. I sighed. The evening had to end sometime. “I guess this is goodnight.”
“I suppose it is.” He turned to me. “This was really fun. More than that. It was—”
“Special,” I said, adding in the word on the tip of my tongue.
He nodded. “Special.”
“The beer cheese was just as good as I remembered.”
“That’s what I was the most worried about.” He laughed. “Could have been a major disappointment.”
I laughed too. “Thank you for this. Thank you for just letting things . . . be.”
“You’re welcome.”
Seth stared at me for a long moment, and I felt something change between us, an invisible shift that told me this wasn’t just a friendly dinner, this wasn’t just a moment between two people who had known each other before the pandemic and wanted to catch up after. This was something more.
Much more.
“Well, I guess I need to go.” I sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t want to keep my father waiting.”
But I do. I do want to keep my father waiting so I can spend more time with you.
“Goodnight, Seth.”
He stepped forward. “Goodnight, Kendra.”
My lungs hitched. Is he going to kiss me? The thought scrolled through my mind, overtaking everything else. I wanted him to; I’d wanted him to kiss me for a long time, probably since the first time I’d worked for him, when he’d slipped me a devasting smile and made me feel like there was no one else around. I liked Seth. A lot. He was more than just a friend.
And then he stepped away. “I should let you go.”
“Okay.”
“Let me know how it goes with Nancy.” He zipped up his jacket. The moment was over. We were friends, and that was all. “I’m sure it will be great.”
“I hope so,” I replied.
Then I got in the car and drove back to reality.
SEVEN
KENDRA
The night before the meeting with Nancy, I barely slept.
I tried on six different outfits and five different hairstyles. I did a makeup run-through and practiced answering interview questions. I fought back the urge to throw up. This was a big moment and had the potential to be the opportunity to get out of what had become a quagmire of despair. I didn’t want to mess up any of it.
I got up early, did a round of yoga, and tried to steel my nerves before getting dressed for the interview—meeting—that might change the trajectory of my life. Our lives. I kissed my dad goodbye and made vague generalizations about where I was going. I fought the urge to tell him the truth, because if things didn’t work out, he’d only be more disappointed.
I arrived at Nancy’s practice facility fifteen minutes early and parked near the entrance. After turning off the car engine, I said a prayer. As horrible as it sounded, I also prayed that Nancy hadn’t called other out-of-work dancers that I’d have to compete against for the role. Does that make me mean-hearted?
I needed this. We needed this.
Moments later, Nancy’s assistant showed me into the large rehearsal space that made up the main part of the building. He asked me if I wanted water, and I declined.
“So kind of you to spend part of your afternoon with me, Kendra.”
Nancy stood from her seat in the small viewing area off to the side of the performance space. From her part of the room, she’d have a view of whatever the dance company wanted to show her. She didn’t introduce herself; she didn’t have to. She was a legend in our region, and I had no doubt that she knew it.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Nancy. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Is this your first time coming to the facility, Kendra?”
“Not my first.” I winced at the memory of an audition I did for her studio a few years earlier, when I was young, hungry, and desperate to please her. I hadn’t made it past the first round. In a way, it felt strange to be back in the same place, but this time in a more hopeful position. “But it has been a few years since I’ve been here.”
“I know the rehearsal hall needs an update.”
Nancy stopped a few feet away from me. She wore a white chunk-knit cardigan, a pale pink leotard, black leggings, and black ballet flats. She might have been close to sixty, but she still had a body as fit as a twenty-five-year-old.
“Once we get the company back on track and we’re performing again, I’m hopeful we can raise some angel investment to help us get a new floor and some other amenities.”
“Cincinnati has always been friendly to the performing arts,” I replied. “I’m sure you’ll be able to raise the money without any problem.”
“We need to show the community we’re still committed to the future of our students.” She smiled, her wide lips straining against her wrinkled but heavily made-up face. “That’s where you might be able to come in.”
“How so?” I braced myself for the answer. Is this the moment everything changes?
“I found some clips of you on YouTube when you were with American Dance. I believe it was their New Works Exhibition from last year. You did a great job. You stood out.”
“Thanks. Nancy. That is high praise, and I’m humbled you think that.”
I remembered how excited I’d been to have a three-minute solo in the middle of that show, and how I’d taken that as a signal I was being looked at seriously by the directors and administrative staff. The offer to become a featured principal dancer came a few weeks after the New Works closed, having sold out every one of its performances. That had been the moment—the opportunity I had waited for years to materialize.
But that was then.
“It was a fun s
how,” I added, now face-to-face with another opportunity I desperately wanted. “Great memories.”
“I want you to develop something like that for our company here. I’d like you to direct it.”
I recoiled. I might have expected something like that, but hearing it come out of Nancy’s mouth was far different than thinking it in my head. “Really?”
She nodded. “Let’s have a seat, Kendra, so that we can discuss this further.”
The woman who held my future in her hand led me to a small table and two chairs in the far corner of the practice space. She offered me the seat facing the open space, then took the chair on the opposite. I wanted to scream with excitement. Nancy Smith was offering me a dream job. This is incredible.
“Would you like something to drink? I can have the staff bring us something.”
“No, I’m fine,” I said, even though my throat grew drier by the second. I didn’t want anything to distract me from the conversation we were about to have. “Just thinking about the idea of having a modern dance team as part of the company here.”
“I think we can do it.” She glanced over her shoulder at the open space. “I’ve thought about doing this for years, but I put it off because our investors and board wanted to focus on classical ballet.” Nancy leaned across the table and gave me a conspiratorial smile. “But now that things have changed, I was able to get what I wanted.”
“And if I was to sign on to do this, how would it work?”
Her grin grew wider. “I was hoping that you’d ask that.”
Over the next half hour or so, she launched her pitch. This would be a full-time position, with benefits, and pay about fifty thousand dollars a year. There would be a chance for bonuses if enrollment in the modern dance academy grew past a certain metric, and extra incentives for success at competitions. Nancy expected the company to perform at least one showcase a year, with “room for more” if the public desired it.
“I feel like I’ve put together a generous offer,” she said at the end. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I feel that someone like you at the helm is exactly what we need to start off this program.”