“Let’s get something straight. You could have killed Olivia.”
“Killed?” He huffed out a bitter laugh then shook his head. “Yeah, right.” He glanced over at his dad as if this were all a big joke.
Zach placed his hand on the table next to Christopher and leaned in. “Yes. As in dead. As in murder.”
The Adam’s apple in Christopher’s throat worked to swallow, and a sheen of sweat broke out above his upper lip.
“You see, Olivia is severely allergic to bees.” Zach rose to his full six-foot-two height and folded his arms across his chest, towering over Christopher like a vengeful angel. “With more than twenty bee stings, she went into anaphylactic shock, despite the EpiPen she used. Anaphylactic shock can lead to death if not treated in time. Olivia barely made it.” The thought still made Zach sick to his stomach.
“What is this about?!” The interview was interrupted when Lily Larson burst through the conference room door, face blazing with fury, Officer Jenkins hot on her heels.
Dan gritted his teeth then told her to sit down.
Zach nodded at his officer, who left the room and closed the door.
“Have you looked at that hooligan, Derek?” Dan countered.
Christopher’s head popped up. “Yeah. What about him, and his douchey sidekick, Shaun?” His eyes lit. “You know,” he waggled his finger, “I did see Derek lurking around the studio.”
“And when would you have seen Derek lurking around the studio when you were in Dillon, fifty miles away?”
Christopher lifted an insolent shoulder. “I do come home, you know.”
Zach resisted an eyeroll. “Besides, if you did see Derek at the studio, he likely wasn’t lurking. He’s been painting scenery and rehearsing.”
“Rehearsing?” Christopher laughed. “That’s a joke.”
“I’m not joking. Seems he’s willing to perform minor roles. He’s a mouse-coachman. So, ask yourself, first, why Derek, who is now participating in the recital—”
“Pansy,” Christopher muttered under his breath, his chin on his chest.
Interesting, considering Christopher had participated in numerous recitals in the past. Maybe at his mother’s command?
“Shut it,” his father said through clenched teeth.
Zach continued, “—would throw a brick through the shop’s window, destroy costumes, and try to harm Olivia by putting bees in her van?”
“Second, Derek has an alibi for the day of Olivia’s accident. Third, Derek witnessed you scoping out Olivia’s van outside the studio a couple of weeks prior. And fourth,” Zach laid a copy of the credit card statement on the table in front of Dan, the credit card purchase highlighted, “Derek doesn’t have a credit card statement with a purchase for bees.”
“This is preposterous!” Lily sat back in her chair with a huff and pointed her finger at Christopher. “Don’t say another word! Dan, call our lawyer.” She crossed her arms in defiance.
Dan’s jaw set, the hands he’d laid on the table now clenched into fists. Without looking at either his wife or his son, Dan asked Zach, “May we have a minute?”
Zach nodded, exiting the room and closing the door behind him, giving the family some privacy. Dan Larson was a reasonable man, despite his choice of wife. He would see the evidence there in black and white and would come to the correct conclusion. Learning that your child had vandalized and burglarized a business and almost killed its owner would be a difficult and bitter pill to swallow. And as mayor of the town, the shame of it would be unbearable.
If Christopher confessed, and Zach felt certain this is what Dan had in mind, a judge might be lenient—probation, community service, and restitution. He also felt certain Olivia would find that outcome acceptable.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Olivia stood aside and watched four of Zach’s off-duty officers haul the enormous carriage backstage and ready it for its appearance the following night. He said he’d be by later after his shift.
She knew the last couple of days had been rough for him. It’s not every day the police chief has to arrest the mayor’s son then face down said mayor over his son’s actions.
The dress rehearsal would take place tomorrow morning, followed by the show that evening, as well as a matinee on Sunday and another performance that evening. The multiple performances were needed to accommodate the crowd in a theater that only seated two hundred fifty people at any given time.
Olivia blew out a breath. That gave her only a few hours between the dress rehearsal and the first performance to correct any problems with scenery, props, music, sound, costumes, and choreography, not to mention soothing dancers’ nerves. How had her mother done this all these years? As a dancer, Olivia only had herself and her partner to worry about. Everything else was not her problem. With this, however, everything was her problem.
And to think she was considering fulfilling this role for a world-renowned ballet company.
Her mother’s shows were always well-received, drawing an audience beyond those citizens from the town of Northridge, so Olivia had big ballet shoes to fill. She’d been less nervous before her performance for the Queen of England than for this studio dance recital.
The stage crawled with people from the town, all of whom came here to help. Tyler, Kristen, Jennie, even Marshall, all came to lend a hand. Derek and Shaun came to participate in the production of their own free will—not for community service. She bit her lip to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes.
A few short weeks ago, she wouldn’t have thought the show would happen. And it wouldn’t if not for the people of Northridge. And for her friends in Chicago. Marshall and Zach had told her she wasn’t alone, and they’d been right.
Logan wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gazed at the pre-show bustle. “Lookin’ good, Giselle, lookin’ good.” He nodded. “You nervous?”
“You have no idea!”
“It’s going to be great!”
At her dubious expression, he continued. “Your dancers are terrific. Your choreography is superb. You’ve done a beautiful job with scenery design. And that carriage! The Joffrey may want to borrow it!”
Olivia laughed, relieving some of the tension in her neck and shoulders. “Yeah, Kent and Clyde outdid themselves on it.”
“These folks really came together for you.” He didn’t need to point at the stage for her to know who he was talking about.
“They really did.” Not only for the scenery but for the non-dancing cast, many of whom came from the Northridge Community Players. Becky Wood made a great Wicked Stepmother. Given how sweet she was in reality, this spoke well of her amateur acting skills. Meghan Mills played the Queen, with her husband Ben as the King. Even Marshall got in on the action as the Town Crier, his courtroom voice perfect for the role. And, of course, Derek and Shaun as mice/coachmen and extras in the village and ballroom scenes.
Kristen, who couldn’t leave her café, had sent over carafes of coffee and cookies for the volunteers.
It truly was a group effort.
“And there’s your man.”
Olivia looked up to see Zach headed down the aisle to where she stood just below the stage, a large manila envelope in his hand. She knew it wasn’t intentional, but Zach walked with a sexy swagger, especially when in uniform.
“Logan.” He nodded, then put his free hand on her arm. “Can I speak with you a minute?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll just go . . . direct traffic,” Logan said as he leapt onto the stage, making it appear as easy as walking.
Zach lifted a brow, impressed despite himself.
“What’s up?” Olivia asked.
“First, I thought you’d want to know, Christopher confessed. Said he was angry that Chloe didn’t get the part. He, Dan, and the state attorney reached a plea deal. Christopher agreed to plead guilty to all counts of vandalism, burglary, and destruction of property in exchange for a lesser charge of assault and battery for the bees.” His lips pressed
into a straight line.
“You’re not happy about that?”
“He almost killed you,” Zach whispered, as if saying it aloud would change the outcome.
“But he didn’t. I’m just glad it’s over.” She crossed her arms with a sigh. “It couldn’t have been easy for Dan. How did he take it?”
“Not well. Christopher has a lot of work to do to earn his father’s trust—and respect—again. He’ll have plenty of time to think about that while he’s picking up garbage on the side of the road, cleaning up manure from the horse trail, and performing other unpleasant community service tasks.”
“Hopefully he’ll learn his lesson.” Olivia wrapped her arms around his waist, and he sighed in contentment, resting his chin on her head. “All this over a dance recital. I guess if nothing else, it shows Christopher loves his sister, even if he demonstrated it in a psychotic way.”
Zach snorted, and she drew back to look up at him but left her arms in place. “You said ‘first,’ leading me to believe there is a second.”
“There is.” This news made Zach uneasy, but he owed it to Olivia to tell her. “I may have found your father.”
She dropped her arms and stepped back, searching his face. Then she wrapped her arms around herself and turned her back.
“Olivia?” He closed the distance between them and placed his free hand on her shoulders. “You okay?”
She shook her head. “I never thought I’d hear those words,” she whispered, almost to herself.
“I don’t know for sure, though I’m pretty confident it’s him. The information is here, in this envelope.” He held it up for her to see.
She nodded but didn't take the envelope from him. “Thank you.”
“Have you heard from your DNA match?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want me to tell you his name then?” Zach asked.
She turned, tears spilling down her cheeks, and looked at the envelope. “Not yet. I . . . I still need to think about it.”
“Take all the time you need.”
Olivia crawled into bed that night, bone tired and with a headache behind her right eye. Even so, she knew sleep would be long in coming.
Zach’s news regarding her father had turned her world upside down. Even more than finding a putative match. She’d asked him to find her father, but now that he had (maybe), she didn’t know what to do. Honor her mother’s wishes or satisfy her own need to connect with the man who never knew her, even in the most tenuous way.
She could learn who her father was one of two ways: through Alex or through Zach.
Olivia knew it was a cop-out, but if Alex received her message and wanted to meet her, it would take the burden off Olivia. Because if Alex wanted to at least meet Olivia, Olivia wasn’t breaking her mother’s promise. Yes, Olivia had made the contact, but she’d left the decision to reach out in the hands of Alex, and unless Alex shared the information with her, Olivia still wouldn’t know who her father was.
But by looking at the information from Zach, information that he’d uncovered at her request, she’d be going against her mother’s wishes. Aware the she was splitting hairs, Olivia rose and took the manila envelope off the dresser where it lay, opened the top drawer, laid it on top, and closed the drawer with a quiet snap.
Returning to bed, she laid her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes. The idea of directing dress rehearsal in the morning followed by the performance tomorrow night on little-to-no sleep almost sent her to the medicine cabinet for an OTC sleep aid. Before she could act, however, Jennie knocked on the frame of her open door.
“How’d it go?”
Olivia rubbed her right temple. “Fine. Everything is in place, the sound system has been checked and rechecked, the lighting console is ready, and the scenery is set.”
“Sounds like the mission is a go,” Jennie said, a smile in her voice as she approached Olivia’s bed. “Um, I found this earlier today. It has your name on it.” She held out an envelope. Seemed to be a day for envelopes. “I moved that chest in our bedroom and this was behind it. It must have fallen.”
Olivia hesitated then lifted a trembling hand to take the envelope from Jennie. She stared at her name written in her mother’s scrawling handwriting. What now?
“I’ll give you some privacy.” Jennie left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.
Maybe the letter held her father’s name. Maybe her mother had a change of heart at the . . . end. Tears clogged her throat at the thought. Drawing a shaky breath, Olivia broke the seal and removed the sheet of notebook paper. Closing her eyes, she held the paper to her chest, as if she could feel her mother’s presence. Opening her eyes, she lifted the letter to the lamplight.
Dearest Olivia,
If you’re reading this, then I must be gone. And if I know my daughter, you’re good and pissed. And you probably have a right to be.
And if I know my daughter, you hold Jennie partially to blame. I’m telling you now, don’t.
When I received the diagnosis no one ever wants to hear, you were in the middle of your work on the piece created just for you. It’s every dancer’s dream. And I couldn’t have been prouder or more excited for you.
And then you ruptured your Achilles. Every dancer’s nightmare. You needed to focus on surgery, recovery, and rehab. I couldn’t disrupt that. Despite the diagnosis, I never thought that decision would mean I’d never see my beautiful girl again. I thought I had more time, you see.
Olivia stifled a sob and brought a hand over her mouth.
Jennie was against my keeping it a secret from the get-go. You had a right to know, she said. And, as she usually is, she was correct.
She loves you, you know. She just isn’t demonstrative like most people. But my Jennie finds other ways to tell you and show you she loves you. And other than being your mom, being Jennie’s partner was the highlight of my life.
I hope one day you’ll find your perfect partner. And when you do, don’t ever let go.
I know you’ll do whatever you think is best with the dance studio. It was never your dream to own one, and that’s okay. Each of us must pursue our own dreams, not someone else’s.
I never once regretted giving up a dance career for you. Never. How can I regret something that has given me more joy than I ever thought possible?
And while I’ll never see you perform your very own piece, I’ll always be with you every step you take. And even if you can’t overcome your injury and dance with the same graceful athleticism, you can still dance. Even if you only dance for yourself. It’s in your blood. Your DNA. Don’t ever forget it.
With all my love,
Mom
Holding the letter tight against her chest, Olivia curled into a ball and wept like a child.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
As Olivia entered the stage for the last night’s Wedding Finale performance, she heaved a sigh of relief. Despite everything, all three shows had been a success.
Emily’s performance had sparkled, and Logan’s both physical and emotional support of his young partner warmed Olivia’s heart. A true gem, that one, she thought, as she bourréed around the two of them, waving her magic wand and tossing confetti into the air. She would miss dancing with him.
The satisfaction that filled her at her own accomplishment surprised her. She now understood the joy her mother had found all those years she’d ran the studio. Seeing her students shine, seeing the fruits of her—and her dance teachers’ and volunteers’—labor come together in a production she could be proud of made all the work, worry, and aggravation worth it.
And in that moment, the nagging doubts regarding her future receded.
The final triumphant notes faded, and the curtain came down.
Dancers rushed into the wings before the curtain rose again for the closing-night curtain call, and the overture began again. The cast and dancers made their way on stage in reverse order by importance of their roles. Logan escorted a beaming Em
ily center stage, her tutu bobbing with each step, then he retreated behind her to give her the spotlight as the audience cheered and clapped. Marshall walked out on stage, presenting an enormous red-rose bouquet to Emily, who then reached back for Logan’s hand to give him his due.
Finally, they both extended a hand for Olivia to take her bows. She ran on stage fighting back tears. Tears of joy, gratitude, relief, and a touch of sadness that the show was over. Zach stood in the front row where he’d sat for every performance, clapping, whistling, and shouting. Making her curtseys, she threw kisses first to him and then to the rest of audience and her cast, before Marshall thrust an equally enormous rose bouquet into her arms. She pulled free one long-stem red rose and tossed it to Zach, who deftly caught it and held it to his nose.
Of course, she loved him. The revelation was not new. She always had. What was new was what she was going to do about it. As soon as she had everything lined up.
Taking Emily’s hand, Olivia led her and Logan forward once more for one final bow, and the curtain came down on the show for the last time.
Backstage, friends and family of the performers filled the already cramped stage and wings.
Searching for Emily’s blond head, Olivia’s eye instead caught her Candy wending her way through the crowd in her direction.
Hmm. Wonder what this was all about, she thought slyly. She’d already had a word with Hermione Moody, the Atlanta Ballet’s dean, about Emily, and she’d been very impressed with her.
When Candy finally reached Olivia, she was all smiles, and Olivia relaxed. “What a show! I can’t believe Northridge has all these talented people!”
“And your daughter is one of them,” Olivia pointed out.
“Yes, she is. When Emily danced . . . I couldn’t believe it. I never realized . . .” She shook her head. “I’m convinced. I have to do whatever it takes to make her dream come true. To give her the life I never had.”
A Season to Dance Page 24