Page 29 of Daddy's Game

I had truncated the story a bit, but I knew I’d hit the important parts. At least, the parts that she needed to hear. That I wanted her to hear.

She leaned back into me, and I put my arms around her waist and clasped my hands. A sigh issued from her throat, and for a time we just stared at the sculpture together.

It hit me then that I hadn’t even thought about getting her land for some time. It went against all of the instincts I had honed as a businessman, but some part of me was already considering the possibility that I didn’t really need to acquire that corner lot, however lucrative it might be.

I wanted Grace, and not just physically. Though I certainly did want that. And I knew that there might be complications if I continued to pursue my plans to acquire her property.

She seemed to notice my change in mood. Grace gently slipped out of my embrace and turned to face me.

“What’s wrong?”

I answered her question with a question.

“Grace, why is it so important that you not sell the center? I could easily pay you more than enough to set up shop somewhere else. In a new building that didn’t require so much repair.”

Her lips twisted into a frown, and she dropped her gaze to my chest.

“It’s not a happy story, Brock. Are you sure you want to know?”

“If it’s about you, then yes, I want to know.”

Her brows arched slightly as she lifted her gaze to meet my own.

“I grew up in the Bronx, and not the gentrified part, either. The part where there’s still gang graffiti on the walls, and you tend to get off the streets when the sun goes down.”

I was afraid to speak, almost afraid to breathe. It was the most open Grace had been with me yet, and I didn’t want to do anything to stop her.

“My next door neighbor was my best friend in all the world. Her name was Carrie. Carrie Mizrani.”

I made the connection. The Mizrani Performing Arts Center. So, that was where it got its name.

Her eyes grew glassy and distant.

“Our moms took us to ballet classes at the local YMCA. I was okay, but Carrie…she had the touch. She had the god gifted natural talent to actually go somewhere. Her parents pulled what strings they could, and emptied out their bank accounts in an attempt to get her into one of the good schools.”

Her voice trailed off, and I gave her some time to feel before I prompted her.

“What happened then?”

“Well, it costs a lot of money to be a ballerina. Not just the schools and the training, either. You have to travel if you’re at all serious about it. For a while, Carrie’s mom drove her around the country, and they slept in their car to save money. But you can probably imagine what sleeping in a back seat does to a top tier athlete’s body.”

She shook her head, eyes dancing with sadness.

“There’s an age limit on ‘making it’ in the ballet world. If you’re not part of a good retinue by your early twenties, you probably aren’t going anywhere. Carrie was told her best bet would be to retire from performing and take a job as an instructor. Someday, she might even be able to open her own studio. But Carrie didn’t want to teach. She wanted to dance, and when it was obvious that wasn’t going to happen…”

A smile spread across her face, but not a happy one. It was a smiling mask intended to hide how miserable she really felt.

“Carrie had some injuries that accumulated from her time on the road, but she didn’t have very good insurance. So she couldn’t get the proper treatment, and wound up taking a lot of painkillers. We still don’t know if she took too many by accident, or…”

Her hands clasped over her face. Grace’s shoulders shook with sobs. I took her in my arms and held her against me. My hand swept over the back of her head in gentle pets.

“I’m sorry you lost her. I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t think I would ever be able to feel any amount of self pity again. Not after listening to Grace’s story. True, I had lost my father before his time, but I couldn’t complain about my relatively privileged upbringing.

“Carrie’s not the only one in that situation, either.” Her voice was muffled by my shoulder. Her hands kneaded my chest almost like a cat. “I felt like the best way to honor her memory was to found the center. And that center needs to stay right where it is. It helps, some, but…I never stopped missing her. My heart never stopped being broken.”

She abruptly pulled away, sniffling.

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