Page 13 of Just Like Home

“We’ve always written letters,” Charlotte said. “Ever since we were kids.”

“I know,” Lucy said. “She told me.”

Charlotte smiled at that. Somehow, the knowledge of it made her feel seen. Or maybe it made her feel known.

And everything inside of her wanted to be known. Maybe that was part of it—Harbor Pointe was filled with people who knew Jules, people who loved her and still mourned her.

Charlotte had realized somewhere in the passing days that if she died, the conversation would be about who would replace her at the ballet, not about how much they would miss her. Nobody would miss her, especially not now, with Julianna gone.

Something inside her broke at the thought of it.

One of the servers appeared with their food. “Two number two’s.”

Lucy grinned. “You’re about to have the breakfast of your life.”

Charlotte looked down at the plate—very different from her usual morning meal. Pancakes. Eggs. Bacon. Hash browns. Orange juice.

“And don’t even think about not finishing it all.”

“This is more food than I eat in a day,” Charlotte said.

“Obviously.” Lucy gave Charlotte a once-over and started cutting her pancakes into bite-sized pieces. “So, the letter?” she prodded.

“Right.” Charlotte stuck her fork into her scrambled eggs. “It was like her description of this place spoke to my soul,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “And believe me, I know how stupid that sounds.”

“It doesn’t,” Lucy said, piling three pieces of pancake onto her fork and dragging them through a puddle of maple syrup. “It makes perfect sense to me. You need rest. And who can blame you? You’ve been working since you were how old? Like fifteen or something?”

“Eight.”

Lucy frowned. “Eight?”

Charlotte nodded. “I got my first professional job when I was eight.”

“Good grief.”

Charlotte sighed. “I do need a break.” But more than that, Charlotte needed to call her own shots for a while. She needed to figure out who Charlotte Page was when she wasn’t on that stage.

She pushed her plate of uneaten pancakes away and pulled her mug toward her, warming her hands with it.

Lucy swallowed another bite of her breakfast. “Where are you staying?”

Charlotte shrugged. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

Lucy laughed. “This is so spontaneous, Charlotte.”

Was that another word for “foolish”?

“I know,” Charlotte said with a groan. “And not at all like me.”

“You’ll stay with me. Case closed.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“Please, I have a great guest room with its own bathroom and a view of the lake,” Lucy said.

As they walked out of the diner twenty minutes later, Lucy slid her arm through Charlotte’s, making her feel, for only the second time in her life, like she’d actually made a friend.

When she exhaled, she felt a healthy dose of worry leave her body. And she had the craziest feeling everything was going to be okay.

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