Grandma Lee was a warm and loving person who brought out in the best in everyone she worked with. But this was her theatre, her ballet school, basically her kingdom. In the decades she had run the place, there had been almost no injuries, a handful of her dancers had gone on to professional careers, and the performances in the small space always sold out—all of which was due to her sharp eyes and the iron control she held over the process from the moment a preschool dancer set a bare foot on the Marley, until they were volunteering on a production their own kids were performing in. Not one thing happened in this place without Lee Forrest giving her say so.

If she had said she wanted Kenzie to be her assistant, it would have made perfect sense.

But partner? That was inconceivable.

“What would that, um, look like?” Kenzie asked, wondering if maybe they were interpreting the word differently.

“It would mean we’d share decisions,” Grandma Lee said. “From which ballets to put on the schedule, to which students to advance onto pointe, and everything in between. We would choreograph together, or we might alternate productions. It means you would be my partner, Kenzie, in everything.”

Kenzie stared at her grandmother, completely overwhelmed.

“It would also mean dedicating your life to this place,” Grandma said after a moment. “You’ve seen what that means for me. Ralph and I don’t travel, we don’t do much of anything outside the theatre. We love it and wouldn’t have it any other way. This was a dream come true for me. But I wouldn’t want to burden you with it, if it isn’t your dream too.”

Kenzie nodded, swallowing over the lump in her throat. She never would have imagined her grandmother would offer her such a thing.

“I probably don’t have to tell you that the pay is lousy,” Grandma Lee added with a wry smile. “I’ve always put as much back into the theatre as I can. But we can look at the numbers and see what we could do for you.”

Kenzie almost laughed out loud. After living in Manhattan on a dancer’s salary, almost any amount of pay in this rural suburb would probably feel like a king’s ransom.

“Just think about it as an option, my love,” Grandma concluded. “But not right now, because the high school kids are probably pouring in as we speak, and there’s no way I’m getting any of your attention once they see you.”

“Wait,” Kenzie said, doing a bit of mental math. “Some of these guys were dancing when I was still here.”

“They sure were,” Grandma Lee said. “You were my assistant in the kids’ classes for some of them when they were Mother Ginger’s Children. Now they’re dancing the lead roles. Shall we go say hi?”

“Yes,” Kenzie said, having to forcibly remind herself to get up slowly.

Her heart was soaring the moment they stepped back into the theatre and a pack of teenagers flocked around her. She smiled at all the familiar faces, feeling glad that so many of them had stuck with ballet.

“You were amazing in Swan Lake,” one girl told her excitedly. “We saw parts of it online.”

“I’m so sorry you got hurt,” another one told her. “I wish I could have seen you dance the Dew Drop Fairy in New York. My mom got us tickets, but they weren’t for opening night.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t see that night,” Kenzie told her. “Did you love the ballet?”

“Yes,” the girl said, looking pleased to have Kenzie’s attention.

“Jenny is the Dew Drop Fairy in our Nutcracker,” a boy pointed out.

“Congratulations, Jenny,” Kenzie said with a smile for the sweet girl she had known as a preschool dancer.

“Maybe you can give me some notes?” Jenny suggested hopefully. “If you watch a rehearsal?”

“Maybe,” Kenzie said.

She would have thought she’d hate watching a rehearsal of the ballet she should be performing in right now. But somehow, she found herself really liking the idea of helping these kids love the ballet as much as she did.

For now, everything about being back at the old school just felt right.

Could I spend the rest of my life in this world?

7

KENZIE

Later that day, Kenzie leaned against the back of the sofa, gazing out the window at the treehouse and her old swing set as the sun went down.

The snow flurries had turned to cold rain, but it was still beautiful outside. The big sycamore’s patchwork of bark was darkened with moisture, making the intricate pattern of browns and blacks stand out.