by Raine Thomas
“I apologize,” Jasmine said through gritted teeth. “I’ll get your muffin for you.”
“Fifteen seconds, don’t forget.”
Rather than reply, Jasmine moved over to the pastry case to retrieve the muffin. She exchanged glances with Isabelle, the barista working with her that morning, and knew Isabelle had been listening to the exchange. She issued the eye roll Jasmine hadn’t been able to before reaching for one of the large cappuccino cups and starting to prepare the woman’s espresso. It made Jasmine feel better.
She placed the muffin in the microwave and entered the requested fifteen seconds before turning to collect the woman’s payment. Not surprisingly, the customer took her change and put it in her purse rather than the tip jar.
After the microwave beeped, Jasmine collected the muffin, placed it in one of Steamy Beans’ signature containers made from recycled materials, and handed it to the woman. “Here you go. Enjoy.”
The woman looked at Jasmine, opened the container, and stuck her finger into the muffin. Pulling her finger back, she said, “This has been overheated. I want a fresh one.”
The gathering line of customers behind the woman issued a collective groan. Jasmine took the muffin back from the woman when it was shoved at her. For a few seconds, she could only look at her in disbelief.
“I’ll take care of you over here, ma’am.”
Jasmine glanced over as Tobias came out from the kitchen and headed straight to the second register. He winked at her as he passed, telling her that he, too, had overheard the exchange and he wanted to spare Jasmine more stress.
Thank you, she mouthed with her back to the customers. Then she turned back around to greet the next person in line.
Yep. That one definitely went to the top of her list.
She tried to get the negative experience out of her mind as she continued with her shift. It wasn’t like that woman had been the norm. List aside, the truth was the majority of Steamy Beans’ customers were genuinely friendly people. Some of them were generous tippers, and nearly all of them were grateful and had something nice to say.
That didn’t mean Jasmine was any happier about her circumstances. Yes, this job was bringing her closer to her sister, whom she’d probably seen more in the past month than she had the entire year before. She was also getting closer with Danny and Tobias. The two of them had been delighted to welcome her into their little “family” when May approached them about Jasmine living with them for a while. They’d even started spoiling Jasmine’s cat, Dido, who didn’t seem to know what to do with all the attention.
But as she built those relationships, Jasmine’s dancing dreams faded more and more by the day. She hovered on the edge of serious depression.
There was only so much she could do within the confines of her physical therapy. She exercised daily. She practiced positioning. She did the lower-impact dance movements that Everly had approved. As she did them, she told herself she was taking the steps needed to fully recover and get out to auditions.
Then her knee would twinge painfully, telling her she was deluding herself.
The sound of a bell chiming alerted Jasmine that another customer had just walked in. She looked up from where she was clearing a table to issue a greeting and realized she recognized the person.
“Hi,” she said. “It’s Sierra, right? I met you once at Dr. Parker—er, Everly’s house. You were delivering some framed photographs.”
Jasmine remembered the brief encounter because she’d been so awed by the poignant family photos. She had later Googled Sierra Stratton and discovered that she was a talented and successful professional photographer.
“That’s right,” Sierra said, giving Jasmine a cheerful dimpled smile as she raised her sunglasses to the top of her head. “I remember you. The ballerina.”
Being called a ballerina while she stood there holding a coffee tray and wash rag caused Jasmine a different kind of pain. Something about how Sierra’s head tilted in consideration told her she hadn’t hidden it very well.
“Yep,” she said in an overly chipper voice. Her gaze shifted down to Sierra’s swollen belly. “Why don’t you take a seat? I can grab whatever you’d like and bring it to you.”
“That’s really sweet but you don’t have to do that. I’m meeting a couple of friends here and they’re going to want to get something for me so they feel useful. No one warned me that when I got this close to my due date, everyone would be hovering.”
Her light laugh told Jasmine she didn’t really mind.
“Okay, well, just flag me down if you need anything.”
“Why don’t you sit with me for a couple minutes?” Sierra said before Jasmine could turn away.
“What?”
Jasmine barely knew her.
“I love meeting new people and it’s quiet in here right now. Come sit with me.”
Sierra walked—well, waddled—over to one of the tables beside the large glass window at the front of the bar. She eased herself into the cushioned chair and waved Jasmine over. Jasmine looked around the empty dining area and shrugged.
What the hell?
Setting the tray and wash rag in their proper places behind the counter, she told Isabelle she was taking a short break and went back to the table to join Sierra. Her eyes passed over Sierra’s curly light blonde hair as she took her seat. It was currently streaked with blue and piled into a messy bun on top of her head. As Jasmine recalled, the streaks had been violet last time.
“Are you having a boy?” Jasmine asked.
“How’d you guess?”
Pointing at her hair, Jasmine said, “The blue streaks.”
Sierra smiled again. “Very perceptive. Yes.” She rubbed the swell of her belly. “This is little Noah Cole.”
“Aww. Is Cole Parker the namesake?”
“Yep. He and Everly will be Noah’s godparents.”
That brought a smile to Jasmine’s face. “That’s nice. When’s he due to arrive?”
“The twenty-sixth, but I suspect he’ll be here sooner than that.”
“What makes you think so?”
She shrugged. “Just a feeling.”
Something about Sierra’s tone made Jasmine believe she was right.
“So how long have you worked here?” Sierra asked. “I meet Zoe and Hannah here all the time and I don’t remember seeing you.”
Shifting in her chair, Jasmine answered, “Not long. This is my third week.”
“Ah.” Sierra studied her another moment. Something in her sea-green eyes seemed ageless. “You’ve been working with Everly, right?”
“For close to six months now.”
“How’s that going?”
The gentle nature of the question had emotion clogging Jasmine’s throat. She took a moment to look out the window before replying, “I’m making progress.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Sometimes progress is hard.”
Jasmine let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah. And terrifying.”
“That’s true. But you know, the pain and challenge you’re facing right now will make it all the more worthwhile once you reach your goal,” Sierra said.
The words struck a chord in Jasmine. They completely changed her mood too.
“You’re right,” she said. “Thanks for that.”
Another smile. “You’re welcome. Actually, if you’d really like to thank me, I’d absolutely love to photograph you.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. I mean, we’ll probably have to wait until this little guy arrives first, but the moment I can get back in front of my camera, I’d love for you to pose for me. You’re just gorgeous, and I think photos of a ballerina will make excellent additions to my portfolio. I’ll pay you for your time.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’d like to.”
Jasmine might have suspected it was an offer of charity if it had come from anyone else. Now, she just sensed that Sierra both wanted to photograph her and help her however she coul
d.
“Sure,” she found herself saying. “Why not?”
“Great!”
The door chimed again. Two energetic females rushed inside. Jasmine deduced they were Hannah and Zoe since they scanned the dining area and their gazes landed on Sierra.
“Thanks for sitting with me,” Sierra said as her friends advanced.
Jasmine got to her feet. “Of course.”
“I’ll reach out to you about the photographs, okay?”
“Sounds good. Good luck with the baby.”
Sierra thanked her again as her friends walked up to greet her. Jasmine left them and headed back to work, feeling lighter than she had before Sierra walked in. She found herself buoyed by the thought of posing for her. It wasn’t dancing, but she’d at least be doing something in line with that. It would be a nice change from serving coffee and wine.
And hopefully it would pull her focus from her crumbling dreams.
Chapter Seven
Will parked his truck in front of All You Can Dance, the fifth studio on his dad’s list. It was the last possibility within a forty-minute drive from his house that offered ballet for kids Katie’s age. He took a moment to study the classic lines of the two-story brick building before looking into the rearview mirror and meeting Katie’s gaze.
“You sure you want to do this?” he asked.
She nodded.
He still didn’t move. The last four attempts at this hadn’t panned out like he’d hoped. Katie’s disappointment was getting more and more difficult to bear.
He got the recap of studio visits one and two from his dad, who had taken Katie to see them the previous week while Will was on the first road trip of the regular season. The first studio said they were so thinly staffed that private lessons were impossible. They said if Katie would be interested in joining their beginner’s ballet class over the summer that it might be an option. It didn’t start until mid-June, however, and Will wasn’t sure Katie was ready for a group environment.
The second studio was apparently in high demand. Even the beginners’ classes had waiting lists. They also said they didn’t offer private lessons for children so young.
When Will got home for the team’s first home stand of the year, he took over driving Katie around to the studios. He wanted to meet her potential instructor anyway. They had gone to visit the third and fourth studios the day before. At number three, Katie took an instant dislike to the studio’s owner, an older woman who seemed nice enough to him. For some reason, Katie refused to go near her.
So that was out.
The fourth studio had been the most disappointing of all. The studio’s owner gave them the standard tour, tried to engage Katie, and when Katie didn’t respond to her, told Will his daughter wasn’t smart enough to understand ballet instruction.
She got quite the heated earful over that.
Fearing another disappointment to come, he said, “Try to keep an open mind, okay, kid? You’re about to meet someone you don’t know, but if you want to learn ballet, you’ll have to work with someone who can teach you.”
Katie gave him a thumbs up.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
They walked into the studio together. She clung to his hand as they checked things out. The entry area was narrow and long, similar to the other studios they had visited. Straight ahead of them, an open door led to a wide dance room where a tap class was in session. More doorways down the hall to the left appeared to house other classes.
Immediately to the left of the entry door was a sign-in desk manned by a teenage girl who was currently talking on the phone and typing into a tablet. She lifted a finger when she saw him and mouthed, One minute please.
He nodded and glanced to his right. At least ten pairs of eyes stared back at him from what was evidently the parent waiting area. All of them were female.
“Mr. Campbell?”
Turning back to his left, he watched a tall, willowy woman approach from down the long hallway. She wore a smile that produced creases beside her warm blue eyes. That and the gray in her brown hair told him she was older and quite probably the person they were there to see.
“I’m Ms. Rutherford,” she said, confirming his assumption. She extended her hand and accepted his handshake before looking down at Katie. “And you must be Katie.”
Katie edged behind his leg. Her grip on his hand tightened.
Shit.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Uh, Katie’s a little shy.”
“Many young children are,” Ms. Rutherford said with another smile. “Why don’t we see the space and you can ask me any questions I didn’t get the chance to address on the phone?”
“Sounds good.”
Katie relaxed once Ms. Rutherford’s attention wasn’t focused on her. That gave him hope this might work out.
They started at the girls’ locker room and made their way around to each of the studio’s six instruction rooms. As he typically did, Will evaluated everything through the eyes of a renovator, noting things he’d change if he had designed the place. All in all, he thought the layout worked well.
Whenever they walked through rooms where classes were in progress, Katie did her best to hide against his side. It again told him she wasn’t yet ready for a group environment. Ms. Rutherford looked from him to Katie throughout the tour, likely observing the same thing. He couldn’t read her expression as he got the rundown of how their classes were structured, when they typically met, and brief bios of the instructors, but he hoped the patience he’d sensed in her earlier extended to his daughter’s unusual behavior.
“Do you or any of your instructors offer private lessons?” he asked when they reached the end of the tour and sat with Ms. Rutherford in her office.
“Has Katie been in dance before?”
Encouraged that he didn’t get an immediate no, he replied, “No. She got a brief lesson and responded well to it.”
“Did you enjoy your lesson, Katie?” Ms. Rutherford asked.
Katie refused to look at the woman. She slouched in the chair beside his, her chin tucked against her chest and her eyes on the floor.
“Answer the question, kiddo,” he prodded.
Finally, Katie gave a brief nod.
“Okay, Katie. Why don’t we do this?” Ms. Rutherford said, getting to her feet. She walked over to the side of Katie’s chair. “I’d like you to show me what you’ve learned.”
Rather than doing as instructed, Katie slid bonelessly to the floor and crawled under her chair.
“What the—” Will stopped himself before he swore. He got out of his chair and crouched by Katie’s. “What are you doing?” he asked her, battling exasperation. “You’ve been showing me your positions for weeks now. Get out here and show Ms. Rutherford.”
Katie shook her head.
“Do you want to learn this stuff or not?”
There was a pause before she nodded.
“Then come on. We talked about this.”
After another long pause, Katie poked her head out, looked at Ms. Rutherford, then back at him. There were tears in her eyes.
His heart sank.
“It’s okay, Mr. Campbell,” Ms. Rutherford said in a soft voice. “I understand that Katie is a special young lady.”
Sensing what was coming, he hurried to say, “She’s just having a moment. Let me talk to her.” He started to lift the chair to get Katie out from under it.
“Please let her be,” Ms. Rutherford instructed. She returned to her seat on the other side of her desk. “I know enough about these things to assure you she’ll come out when she’s ready. For Katie, that chair is a safe place right now.”
With his daughter’s tears ingrained on his mind, he released the chair and sat back down. He leaned back in a slouch of his own, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes.
“Maybe this just isn’t going to work,” he said. “I was so sure…”
“Where did she get this other lesson?” Ms. Rutherford asked when he trail
ed off.
The hand lowered from his eyes. “Just a stranger. A dancer who happened to be with Katie in a waiting area.”
“A female?”
Curious that she asked about the stranger’s gender, he sat straighter and replied, “Yes. She was about my age, I think.”
“And how did she approach the lesson with Katie?”
“I don’t know, actually.”
Ms. Rutherford looked from him to Katie’s empty seat. “It seems to me that she connected with Katie in a way I can’t. Is our studio the first you’ve visited?”
He shook his head.
“And those other studios didn’t meet your needs?”
“No.”
“I see.” After a moment of consideration, she asked, “Is there any way you can get in touch with this other dancer?”
“Oh, I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” he hedged, recalling the heated words they exchanged.
“Mr. Campbell, forgive me for being so straightforward, but Katie clearly has very specific needs. I’ve met a number of young people in my lifetime, some of them with similarities to your daughter. With someone like Katie, you need to pay attention to the cues she gives you. If there is any way you can reach that dancer and ask her how she approached working with Katie, maybe we can find someone here who can try that same approach and connect with Katie the same way. That said, you may want to prepare yourself for the reality that Katie won’t find that connection with anyone else.”
The very suggestion had Will’s mouth going dry.
“I’m sorry if I’m coming across too plainly. I’m merely speaking from experience and could be wrong. But until we better understand how and why Katie responded to that first lesson, I fear you’re only causing her undue stress by trying to recreate it.”
He wanted to take offense. After all, he was just trying to bring Katie the joy he’d seen in her while she posed in front of the mirror.
One glance at her balled up under the chair had him nodding instead.
