When the Music Stops

by Paddy Eger

  Her mom’s eyes widened. She stood and looked around the office as if sizing up what she saw. She turned toward Marta. “I don’t know. Maybe. Do you think we could work with a different owner?” Her mom’s face registered a look of surprise. “Wait. You said we. Does that mean you’d stay and teach? You’d be giving up your dream to dance again.”

  “I know. I’d stay for awhile, anyway. Over the past months I’ve let my plans and friendships slip away. This afternoon my mind spun through so many things: Steve, Lynne, dancing professionally, working and dancing here, Lindsay’s support, and of course your support and love of this place. I’d stay here and help until the studio’s future became clear. I owe that much to you and Lindsay.”

  Her mom smiled and sat down. “Honey, you can’t base any decisions on owing something to people. Caring about someone doesn’t mean you need to pay them back. Hopefully, a buyer will emerge. Just so long as it isn’t that friend of Zandora’s who’s had her eye on the building for an Arthur Murray studio. If Lindsay or if we find someone to buy the studio, it needs to happen quickly. Perhaps we could try to buy it. I don’t know if we’d qualify, or how much this dance studio is worth, but we could check into it. Let’s see what Lindsay figures out before we get too worried about details.”

  Marta waved as her mom backed out of the Corbett driveway. She closed the door and stood with her back against it. An unexpected stillness flowed through her. If they did buy the studio, she’d be tying herself to staying in Bremerton for an unknown about of time. That affected her future as a dancer, as well as her future relationship with Steve, if it still existed. She decided to stop worrying about what might be and focus on something that could be decided very soon.

  h

  As Marta and her mom drove to the studio the next morning, they continued brainstorming.

  “If all else fails and I try to get a loan for the studio,” her mom said, “I may have to sell the house. That would mean our family home would be gone. If you had to pick one to save, the dance studio or our family home, which would you choose?”

  Marta smiled. “All my memories of growing up are tangled inside both of them. I’ve laughed and cried, worked through problems, and found happiness in both places. It’s hard to choose. I hope I’ll know what to do if selling our home becomes necessary.”

  When they’d parked the car and gone inside, her mom hugged her. “Maybe we can salvage both. I’ll call Lindsay when we have a break between classes to learn what she’s thinking.”

  A loud chattering at the door startled Marta. She shook out her arms and legs and twisted her head side to side to release her tension as she welcomed in the kinders. She glanced at her mother before she led the children upstairs. “How is everyone today? I hope you’re ready to dance and sing. I’ve found a new song for us. Let’s sit down and get started stretching.”

  h

  During their lunch break Marta and her mom locked the door again and resumed their discussion. “Lindsay called to say she didn’t have any information yet, but that she and Adam were working on it.”

  Marta circled the waiting room, straightening the cushions and picking up loose bits of paper. “The waiting around is hard. It’s like standing in the wings, dressed to perform, waiting to see if the dancer you’re understudying can go on or not.”

  Classes began and ended as Marta struggled to stay focused. By the end of the day, she’d exhausted all her reserves thinking about so many things. Would Lindsay expect Marta would take over teaching all the classes permanently? What about auditioning for a professional ballet company? Marta hadn’t even figured out if she was going to tryout again or not. Besides, how was she expected to know what she wanted? She was nineteen, not twenty-five or forty. And what about Steve? What if they did end up together and she moved for his job? What if the Holland Studio hired new instructors and then his job fell through or they broke up? She’d need to start over yet again.

  The warm spring day faded to dusk as Marta heard her mom call her downstairs. She looked around the upstairs thinking of all the recital decisions to be finalized over the next few days. She needed to stay focused on the details of the recital and stop thinking about any plans beyond kids, music, and costumes.

  They called Lindsay. “We’ve been thinking about keeping the studio open once you move to San Diego,” her mom said. “The dance studio is important to so many people. We want to try to keep it running if possible. We….”

  Her mom’s eyes widened. Something had distracted her. Marta turned in time to see Zandora Marcus standing in the doorway with a large box in her arms. She dropped it with a thud, crossed her arms, and smiled as she turned and left.

  Marta gasped. They’d forgotten to lock the door.

  Marta opened the box to find the capes and hair ornaments Rosalia had borrowed. Of all the times to return them, she thought.

  “Lindsay,” her mom said into the phone. “We might have another problem. Zandora overheard our conversation.”

  h

  By the following morning, dance school patrons began calling and stopping in, worried about the studio. “Where will we go if you leave?” “What about the recital? I paid good money for this year’s lessons and costumes.” “Are you buying the studio and the building?” “I just called Lindsay and she said….”

  When Adam called the dance studio, his voice sounded strained. “I’m worried about how this stress is affecting Lindsay and the baby. Why did you give out our private phone number?”

  “We didn’t give out your number,” Marta said. “Believe me, we never intended for any of this to get out. We’re so sorry. We’re hoping this all works out.”

  Now Marta paced and rocked and wished she knew what her future held. Her mom and Robert had plans, so they’d be staying in Bremerton at least until Robert retired, and that was years away.

  Marta’s decision about sticking with the studio would affect her life for years to come. What if she made the wrong choice? What was the wrong choice? What was the right choice? Should she flip a coin? No. She’d need to give it serious thought, after she attended Betty’s early evening school talent show as she’d promised her last week.

  The program was short and lively. Betty borrowed a blue, sparkly costume from the dance studio to perform her class dance to Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. She made every turn, waved her star wand on cue, and bowed as though she’d been dancing for years rather than less than seven months.

  Marta and Sam met Betty in her classroom afterward and handed her a bouquet of carnations. “We enjoyed the program, Betty. You danced like a lovely fairy,” Marta said. “I loved the way you waved your wand and smiled.”

  “That’s what I was ‘pose to do,” Betty said.

  Sam laughed. “I think we can thank Marta for that new confidence. Now more than ever she wants to become a dancer.”

  “Yes, but Daddy, I am a dancer,” Betty said, “and I want to be a teacher and a doctor and a taxi driver. Can we get ice cream now?”

  By seven thirty, they’d eaten ice cream and tucked Betty into bed. Now Marta and Sam sat for a minute outside in the porch swing. Sam took her hand and absentmindedly rubbed his long fingers along her knuckles as they spoke of their dreams. “I love my job,” he said, “but I hope to scrape together enough money to go back to school and get my doctorate so I can open a counseling service for kids. There’s a need for counselors to help kids through crises like the death of a parent, divorce, or debilitating injuries.”

  “I went to a counselor after I broke my foot,” Marta said. “She helped me deal with the stress I experienced not knowing if I’d dance again. She was kind and didn’t push me to make a decision until I had time to heal. I’ve kept up my exercising, and now, after almost a year, I’m close to making that decision very soon. Steve helped me….”

  “Who?”

  “A friend of mine in Billings.” There it was:
Steve crept into her life when she least expected it.

  “A boyfriend?”

  “Yes, and a good friend,” Marta said. “He took me places to distract me during my recovery.”

  “Is he a dancer?”

  “No. He’s a reporter from the local paper. Over time he understood how much I missed dancing.”

  “Do you still miss dancing professionally?”

  “Yes. I used to imagine it every moment of every day. Now it’s only when I play certain recordings or I watch professional dancers perform on television. The longer I’m away, the more my chance to return fades away.”

  Sam nodded. “We all have things like that in our lives. What if dancing again doesn’t work out? How do you feel about staying here to teach?”

  “I’m giving it serious consideration. I imagine you’ve heard about Lindsay moving to San Diego.”

  “I have, and that you and your mom want to manage the studio. I know Betty loves her time there, dancing and being with you. As you saw tonight, she’s become confident. I attribute that to you.”

  “Thanks. I try.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. “But right now I need to get home. The studio decisions could happen any day, and I want to be as rested as possible.”

  Once she returned home, Marta didn’t think about the situation at the studio. She focused on how Steve popped into her conversation tonight. Why didn’t she tell Sam about her on-going relationship with Steve? The fact he kept stepping forward in her thoughts told her it was time to pick up the phone and dial Steve’s home to address their relationship.

  The phone at Steve’s family home rang and rang. Marta held on for a dozen rings, then hung up. She’d made a step toward talking with him, a kind of challenge to herself to break through her stubbornness. For now she’d try to stop thinking about Steve and Sam and Betty and focus on events surrounding the dance studio.

  Pacing didn’t help. Neither did rocking. Did she need to restart using diet pills? No. She’d promised to stop, and she’d handled the pressures without them. No reason to slide back now, although who’d blame her in light of all that was happening?

  Could she stay in Bremerton, teach at the studio, and feel content creating dances for children? Possibly. She led classes and made children laugh when they danced. She’d helped Rosalia and Paige, sharing her experiences. But was teaching enough to hold her interest? If she didn’t give professional dancing another try, would she always regret that decision?

  h

  Morning classes and warm-ups began and ended. Recital dances were practiced throughout the day. Still no news from Lindsay. When the students left for the evening, Marta felt jitters run through her as she walked downstairs to meet with her mom.

  “I think we need to call Lindsay and find out what we can,” said her mom. “Neither Lindsay nor us need any added stress right now. Do you know what you’ll do if the studio continues on with a new owner?”

  Marta closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened her eyes, she wiped away a single tear. “I can’t leave knowing I caused the studio to move backward or close. I love it here. It’s my dance home. I’ll stay if I’m needed.”

  Her mom exhaled slowly, stood, and hugged Marta. “Thank you, honey. I know all of this is overwhelming, but life’s always changing. Every decision is a gamble. You’ll see. Everything will work out the way it’s intended.”

  At eight thirty that evening they drove to Lindsay’s home. Lindsay greeted them with a smile, but the strain on her face didn’t fool anyone.

  “The dance studio is important to us and to the community,” Marta’s mom said. “We want to work with whomever buys the dance studio. Or, if it means we take out a home loan, we’ll do our best to secure enough for a down payment to buy the building. We’ll work on getting the funds for buying the business as well.”

  Lindsay shook her head, and bit her bottom lip. “That’s wonderful, but it may be too late. The bank received an offer from an anonymous source to take over the loan and pay an additional twenty percent above the loan amount to buy the building and close the deal within a month. But he hinted he could hold off submitting the offer for a few days so someone else could bid on it. Do you know anyone who might be interested?”

  Marta and her mom looked at each other. “Maybe,” her mom said.

  h

  A week later on an early May evening, a gentle tapping brought Marta to her front door. Her mom stood looking across the road. ”Hi, Mom.”

  “Great view. I see why you love this place. And your primroses are lovely.”

  Marta laughed. “I doubt you came to look at my primroses.”

  Her mom handed over a packet of paper. “No, I came to share this with you. I’ve got a loan in the works with Mr. Gleason at our bank. He doesn’t see any problem in our plan to buy the building.”

  Marta hugged her mom. “This is a gigantic step. Are you certain you can handle running a studio and owning a building?”

  “Together we can.” Her mom stepped into the house and sat down. For the next two hours they discussed all the issues associated with owning a business, if Marta stayed.

  As they prepared to say good night, her mom hugged her before she headed for the door. She stopped and turned back to Marta. “When I started working at the studio, Lindsay was in her late twenties. It was a part time job. Lindsay had rented two studio spaces two days a week and had four classes. Her first few recitals were in the studio. Her students wore their practice clothes with tutus and headbands to dress themselves up. Do you remember your early years in the old building?”

  Marta shook her head.

  “I’ve watched the studio grow by leaps and bounds these past ten years. When she moved to this location it felt like home. I know that if you and I work together. If you stay, we’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Marta looked down at her hands and inhaled deeply. “Each day it looks more and more like I have no reason to consider anything else.”

  “Really? You’ve decided you won’t pursue dancing? Have you told Lynne or Steve? I know they care about your plans.”

  Marta shrugged. “I’ve not spoken to either of them. There’s nothing to tell, yet.” She walked to the window and closed the blinds, keeping her back to her mom. “Perhaps I should tell you something else, though. I’ve been seeing Betty’s dad.”

  “Sam, huh? I’d have never thought of you two together, but I guess it makes sense.”

  “It does. When I’m with him and Betty, I feel comfortable, but it’s confusing me. I still think about Steve. I don’t know what that means.” Marta put on the tea kettle and took down two cups. “Stay and have a snack. I’d like your company. We can talk about the men in our lives. I could use some advice.”

  h

  As May slid into its second week, the last days of classes ended. Any decision on resolving the bank loan needed to be made. Focus at the studio moved on to recital rehearsals.

  Sweat slipped along Marta’s body. Her snug bun escaped its thin red ribbon and hung in wisps against her damp head. She redid her hair as she prepared to tackle the rest of her list tonight then sit down with her mom, finalize the program, and call Lindsay for her input.

  She exercised and tidied the upstairs, then continued downstairs to the practice room to clean up. Marta heard the door to the studio open. Expecting her mom to pop in, Marta started her normal after-hours conversation before she turned around. “Well, that was a fun bunch. They’re as ready as they’ll ever be. Do you think…?” Marta turned and gasped. It wasn’t her mom. It was Steve.

  15

  Marta dropped the papers she held and stared. “Steve?”

  “Hi Marta.”

  Her face heated up as she bent down to collect what she'd dropped. "What are you doing here? I mean, where did you come from? I mean….”

  “I’ve been in the area s
ince yesterday.”

  Marta stood and stared at his face, then let her eyes trail down his shoulders and arms before looking back to his face. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “Your mother. We’ve stayed in contact. I phone her about once a week when you're busy teaching a class or after hours. I hope that’s okay.”

  Marta’s eyes opened wide. “My mom?” She inhaled and walked to straighten records and tapes and adjust her dance skirt before turning back to face him. “How long are you staying?”

  “A day or so. I missed you and I wanted to get things right between us, so I thought I’d take a chance and stop in so we could talk." He paused and looked around the room. Marta wondered what he saw when he looked at a near-barren room with barres, mirrors, and a long, cluttered counter. Surely nothing glamorous.

  He smiled. “Marta, I’m sorry for all that’s happened. I didn’t mean to be so insistent about my planning a future somewhere and expecting you to follow me. But you didn’t seem sure about what you wanted for yourself or from us, so I laid out my ideas. I admit I sounded pushy, but I needed a reaction from you. I just got way more than I expected.”

  “You said us. After New Year’s, I didn’t think there was an us.”

  “I’m still hopeful. Let’s go somewhere and talk, okay?”

  “I have to finish up recital details tonight. My mom’s expecting me.”

  “No, she isn’t. I spoke with her yesterday. You’ll work on it tomorrow.”

  Marta put her hands on her hips and stared at Steve. “You talked to her yesterday? She didn’t say anything to me.”

  “I asked her not to tell you.” He ran his hand through his hair, then fidgeted with the keys in his pocket. “I thought I should come and see you face to face. I have a lot to tell you. And I want to hear all about everything that’s happening here and about how your life is progressing.”

  Marta turned away from Steve once again, this time to hide her impending tears and the ache pressing against her heart. Emotions coursed through her with such force she couldn’t breathe for several seconds.