The Music and the Mirror

by Lola Keeley

  “No!” Anna says. “Felt it on the way up, so I stopped in time.”

  Victoria nods. It’s the moment to get Anna up to speed on her new reality in yet another way.

  “Well, don’t pluck another pair of sad little stock shoes from your bag. It’s time for you to meet Susan.”

  “Susan?” Anna says. “Who’s Susan?”

  “Well, you should probably call her Ms. Ramos. But Susan is going to change your life.”

  “More than it already has been?” Anna slaps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she says, compounding the list of habits she’ll have to break before long.

  “Come along.” Victoria sighs. “I really shouldn’t be pandering to you like this, but I don’t have time for you to get lost in some woodland glade along the way.”

  “To where?”

  “The shoe room, Anya. You’re really going to have to learn to keep up. Things go at a different pace around here.”

  “Okay,” Anna agrees, grabbing her things and switching out her remaining pointe shoe for flats. “Whatever you want.”

  “That’s right.” Victoria smirks at the ease with which she controls the girl. She had planned on another tough session for Anna, but how can Victoria be expected to work with someone whose materials are simply not up to scratch? It would be like instructing someone to paint the Sistine Chapel when they’ve only brought finger paints.

  She heads to the door and waits pointedly until Anna catches up and opens it for her with suitably flustered deference. Victoria leads the way to the elevator and nods for Anna to call the damn thing. She does, pressing the button a few too many times.

  CHAPTER 7

  “Susan?” Victoria tries to follow a pattern in the rustling somewhere in the rows upon rows of costumes. “Ramos! Get your ass out here. I have a newbie.”

  There’s a thump and muted curse of acknowledgment.

  Victoria hangs back, satisfied she has been obeyed. It gives her a chance to watch Anna, face lit up like one of those excruciating moppets in a tacky Christmas commercial. The wide eyes, the lips parted in genuine amazement, the sweeping motion of her arms as she twirls on the spot and takes it all in. Even though the most impressive items are in climate-controlled storage farther back, the sea of satin and tulle and leather and lace, tinged by the dust and mothballs and dry-cleaning fluids, is almost enough to make even Victoria giddy.

  She rarely comes down here. Summoning Susan to her office usually suffices, and costume designs for each production are decided in the airy meeting rooms upstairs.

  “Newbie?” Susan asks, bursting forth from the middle of a row of velvet and brocade jackets. “Not possible. Every year the newbies are in here trying to steal half of my stock and call it company perks.”

  “Hi?” Anna actually does that awkward half wave like she’s just wandered out of a Disney Channel sitcom.

  Victoria pinches her nose and breathes through a spike of irritation. Then her phone starts ringing.

  “Take her through the best options,” Victoria instructs, pulling it out and frowning at it. Rick. Perfect. “And whatever customization, get it over to them today. Give her the closest possible to what she likes for now, to cover until the first order arrives.”“

  “I have done this before,” Susan says. “Ma’am,” she appends, after Victoria’s glare. “Come along, newbie,” she barks at Anna, who falls in step right away, following the path that leads to the rabbit warren of shelves that hold the company’s shoes.

  Having let Rick roll to voicemail, she hesitates for a moment. If he’s changed his mind already, or worse, come up with some uninspired change of his own as some demented tit-for-tat… She returns his call.

  “Victoria!” He sounds breathless when he picks up, and she doesn’t dare speculate why as she heads back into the corridor. “I want to come see our new girl like we agreed. And I need to bring a date and a couple of new investors, so make it a little showcase, would you? An hour on Saturday should do it.”

  “That’s before—”

  “They want to see some ballet. Gimme a break here. This way I’m out of your hair by nine. She’s ready, right? This discovery of ours? If not, I want an impressive plan B ready.”

  “She will be,” Victoria says through gritted teeth, not correcting “ours” to mine. “I could bring in a couple of other principals, if you really need a show.”

  “There’s the visionary I hired.” Rick chuckles around the words. “Give it the Victoria Ford effect, and one of these checks will cover all your chopping and changing for the rest of the season.”

  “Fine. I’m about to lose you,” she says as the elevator pings its arrival. “Call Kelly if there are specifics.”

  Victoria ends the call. She has too much work to do for Richard Westin to be in her head. She considers going back to start Anna right away, but the girl will need rest. Not to mention that pulling together an impressive enough scene for the showcase will require some serious planning and choreographing. For that, she works alone.

  The hum of anticipation settles in her stomach, and Victoria suppresses the start of a smile.

  It’s a challenge, that’s all. And overcoming those has always been what she does best.

  “Wow,” Anna says for the fifteenth time. “No, seriously. Wow.”

  “You can stop clutching and start trying them on anytime you like.” Susan pulls another pair of shoes down from a high shelf. Anna offered to help with the reaching, but she’d been glared at, then a small stepladder was produced.

  This room is Anna’s Ollivander’s wand shop. It’s a lamppost and a sprinkling of snow away from being Narnia. If she were to win a golden ticket, it would be for this gigantic space, not some chocolate factory. Okay, maybe a detour to the chocolate factory too. At every turn there are beautiful, untouchable things.

  She takes a seat on the bench and pulls on the first pair of shoes. They’re far better quality than anything she’s ever danced in before, the corset satin like a kiss sliding against her skin. Something about the arch of the sole isn’t right, though; it feels intrusive in a way she isn’t used to.

  “Not the Capezios, then,” Susan surmises, bringing another pair down and watching Anna’s expression.

  “Oh! They might be fine,” Anna insists. “Just different. I just need to get used to, you know, how it feels.”

  “Listen, this isn’t an outlet mall. You don’t have to compromise for kind of good enough. And Victoria wasn’t kidding. She doesn’t let you use anything as an excuse, especially not something that can be avoided. Putting that shoe on should make you feel like you can—”

  “Leap buildings in a single bound?” Anna teases, pleased when she gets a brief smile in return. “I just don’t want to cause any trouble, you know? It’s a miracle I’m even here, so I’m trying to keep my head down.”

  “You sure have a funny way of showing it.” Delphine Wade steps into view, in yoga pants that have to be designer and the softest gray hoodie Anna has ever seen. It takes a ridiculous amount of self-control not to reach out and touch it. “I don’t believe we’ve officially met. Anya, wasn’t it?”

  “Um, sure?” Anna responds, standing up like she’s a soldier on parade. “I mean, actually it’s Anna. I think you’re amazing. But I guess you get that a lot.”

  “You’d be surprised by how it doesn’t get old.” Delphine extends her hand.

  Anna shakes it, faintly stunned.

  “I suppose you think I’m here to claw your eyes out and tell you to get the hell out of my company, don’t you?”

  Susan moves her head back and forth between them.

  “That would…not totally shock me?” Anna shrugs. “But I swear what I just said is true. I didn’t go looking for any of this. I just wanted to be normal, like any other dancer.”

  “Clearly you’re not. Victoria is a lot of things, but she’s not a bad judge of talent. I assume she wants me to hate you, because it’ll make you better or some kind of mind game. Which is exa
ctly why I’m not going to. Unless you give me a reason.”

  “I will really try not to do that.” Anna is so relieved that her grin is wide enough to hurt her cheeks. “And if you need to jump the line here, let me get out of your way.”

  “You’re getting your shoes?” Delphine nods to Susan, who pulls a bundle of pointe shoes from a cube in the shelves marked with Delphine’s name. “Who are you going with?”

  “Well, she’s not a Gaynor Minden girl like you,” Susan announces. “I’ve got those piled up in her size, but you don’t suppose…”

  “Oh, that would be fun. I always wanted to wear Maltese Cross, but they just don’t work with my toes. He’s so in demand, though…”

  “Who is?” Anna asks, losing the thread of the conversation.

  “The Maltese Cross maker at Freed.” Susan climbs back up her ladder, yanking things from higher shelves.

  Anna has read a million Tribune and Times articles on ballet. She can’t believe the details she used to obsess over in her favorite dancers are now the details of her own life.

  “A nine, wasn’t it?”

  “Freed of London?” Anna tries to clarify. “Oh wow, that would be insane, but they don’t just have them lying around in the store. Not these handmade ones, anyway.”

  “Each maker has their own stamp,” Susan says, and Anna lets her explain, like she hasn’t been obsessing over the Freed shoes and their makers for years. “We have a few Bell girls, and I know the San Francisco girls are crazy for Castle and Butterfly.”

  She hands over a pair and Anna turns them over, running her hands over the soles, where, sure enough, the little fish symbol rests to signify the person who handmade these shoes with such impeccable attention to detail.

  Anna knows, honestly, before she slips the first one on.

  These are her shoes.

  Oh, the cutdown needs to be a little lower to stop it rubbing, and she needs to stitch in her elastic the way she likes it, but the moment they slip over her heel it’s Cinderella and the Prince: a mortal lock.

  “Huh,” Susan remarks as Anna stands again and goes up on her toes. “Well, it’ll be nice to finally put these back on the order; it’s been weird not to add it all this time. Irina was the last one, and she hasn’t worn them since…well, it’s been a while.”

  “You have everything you need?” Delphine interrupts. “I’m taking Anna here for a green tea and a real initiation.”

  “I’ll put a rush on it. Come back in the morning, newbie. I’ll tweak enough of these to get you through until the first delivery.”

  “Thank you,” Anna says, sincerely.

  “Let’s go,” Delphine says. “I’m about to show you the Metropolitan Center’s best-kept secret.”

  “Tea?” Anna confirms, because she’s still not entirely convinced Delphine doesn’t want to lure her to the huge atrium and toss her over the railing. “I could drink tea.”

  Victoria’s office is no sanctuary this week, not in the chaos of a new season. Kelly is an effective gatekeeper, but the sheer hubbub outside makes it impossible to concentrate. She gathers her things and sneaks out via the fire escape, in no mood to be accosted by everyone with a problem or a half-baked observation.

  First, there’s the delicate matter of wrangling her principals into an unplanned showcase. Irina will be easy enough—the prospect of antagonizing Rick is all the incentive she needs. Victoria plucks her phone from her purse as she slips into the backseat of her waiting Mercedes, the driver already summoned with a text.

  “Delphine?” she asks when the phone is answered. It doesn’t sound like Delphine Wade’s usually snippy greeting. The fact it was answered the first time with Victoria being the one to call is unusual enough.

  “No, she’s uh, well, she had to go complain about her tea,” comes a familiar, bumbling response.

  “Well, well.” Victoria smirks into the phone. “You’ve got considerably more game than I gave you credit for, Anya.”

  “Game?”

  “Going out of your way to court the very people you’re alienating.” Victoria rolls her eyes. The traffic around her is familiar, almost soothing. She watches the glide of irresponsible but well-executed undertaking from the next lane over and files the motion away for later. The weave of cyclists and irresponsible pedestrians darting out in her peripheral vision keep the choreographing part of her brain ticking over. “I doubt even I would have been so bold.”

  “She was there when I got my shoes. And she invited me to tea. I don’t want to have enemies. I’d much rather make friends.”

  “Do Hallmark know about you?” Victoria can’t contain her sarcasm. “If you could relay a message to your new best friend, tell her we have a schmooze session on Saturday. You, too, for that matter. When you all get in tomorrow, check the updated schedule. And tell Gabriel to pick another boy who can keep up with him. I want the best.”

  “What about Ethan?” Anna asks. “He works so hard.”

  “Promoted to principal and already you’re calling the shots?” Victoria can’t resist. “You think you can work with cardigan boy?”

  “I can work with anyone.” There it is again. Under that corny-as-Kansas exterior, that glint of steel. Victoria feels her heartbeat spike in anticipation. This is the one, all right.

  “Then bring the Will to your Grace along tomorrow. He might not thank you for all the extra work, you know.”

  “He wants his break, just like everyone else. And he’s really good.”

  “Of course he is,” Victoria drawls. “This is my company. Really good is actually below our minimum standard.”

  “Can I ask what a schmooze session is?”

  “You should ask your new buddy Delphine,” Victoria says, before thinking better of it, with a hearty sigh. “Though, since it’s important, I should point out this is the test for Rick that you’re working toward. The one you cannot blow, if you want a future with this ballet company.”

  Anna gulps at the news.

  Good. Nervous is something Victoria can work with.

  “I’ll work hard,” Anna promises. “I can come back today if you need—”

  “I have planning to do,” Victoria interrupts. “The muse is a fickle thing, and I’ve already had to flee the building. Once I have a suitable environment to create the necessary art, I can finish choreographing the dazzling sequences I’m going to give you.”

  “Great!” Anna sounds excited, so that part of the plan has worked at least. “Have I mentioned that I really appreciate this chance to—”

  Victoria hangs up.

  She has her limits.

  The car rolls uptown toward her apartment, and she drums an adagio beat on the inside of the door. She closes her eyes to envisage the positioning, and tells herself that it isn’t the new girl she’s picturing in each pose.

  CHAPTER 8

  “If you’re a pickpocket, you’re doing kind of a lousy job,” Delphine announces, setting the corrected pale green teas on the table before plucking her phone from Anna’s hand. “You look a little shell-shocked.”

  “Victoria called,” Anna manages to say, before taking a hearty slurp of the tea and hissing at the temperature against her tongue. “She, uh, told me to tell you there’s a schmooze session on Saturday.”

  “God, just when I thought I might actually enjoy one of the last free weekends. Out of season gets shorter every year, and we spent most of this one in Europe. You don’t have to play secretary for me, you know,” Delphine changes tack. “I already decided not to hate you, remember?”

  “Right.” Anna takes a steadying breath. “She wants Gabriel as well. And Irina.”

  Delphine frowns.

  “I volunteered Ethan too. Oh God, what am I doing?”

  “Hell if I know.” Delphine sighs, sipping her tea and watching Anna over the rim of her cup. “You’re really not some Machiavellian schemer, are you? This farm-girl naiveté isn’t even an act. Where are you from, Kansas?”

  “Dubuque.” Ann
a sticks with the easiest version. She doesn’t know whether she can trust Delphine the way she instantly trusted Ethan. “I moved a lot as a kid, but Dubuque is home.”

  “Well, I’m from Kansas,” Delphine replies. “But I have the feeling you already knew that. You might not be scheming, but you must know ballet for Victoria to be interested in you.”

  “I actually met your sister a couple of times,” Anna admits, and instantly regrets it when Delphine’s expression hardens and she sets down her tea a little too carefully. “In San Francisco. I have this friend… He introduced us when I was looking at schools.”

  “And she just fell over herself to help you pursue your dreams?” Delphine’s voice is tight. “Guess that applies to everyone who isn’t her sister.”

  “Oh, no!” Anna rushes to correct her. “She actually sort of put me off. Well, she tried to. Told me every little girl wants to be a ballerina but that almost no one has what it takes.”

  Delphine relaxes a little at that. “That does sound more like Liza. We’re not close.”

  “This is her last season,” Anna can’t help but blurt out. “So it’s just you, you know, in the spotlight after this.”

  “Well, apparently that’s not true, either,” Delphine snaps.

  For a moment, Anna thinks she might really have blown it this time.

  “No. I’m not blaming you for whatever crazy idea Victoria got in her head,” Delphine says. “She’s brilliant, but God, don’t try to keep up with her. Still, I’d rather dance for her than some old white man.”

  “Like Kevin Winters?” Anna is fascinated by and terrified of the man in equal measure. She knows he discovered Liza, and brought Victoria home from London, but only Liza stayed at the San Francisco Ballet. She gives him credit for her career. No biography of Victoria Ford gives Kevin any prominence at all. “Did he—”

  “I’m Victoria’s discovery,” Delphine says. “She picked me out of the corps in Toronto, and she enticed Gabe over when he felt restricted in San Francisco. So yeah, we all bitch. But we owe her a lot. And you know she’s still the only female artistic director of any of the major companies, right?”