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“Yes. Baking,” their father said. “It’s a Bachelor Bake-Off. And you’re in it.”
With that, he turned on his heel and left the room.
Chapter Three
Snow crunched beneathNoelle’s boots as she walked down the sidewalk. She and Holly rented an apartment on Church Avenue right by the high school and a few blocks down from the dancing school. Thinking it would help them save money to not have a car right away, as well as get connected in town by living close to everything, it was an ideal location.
Although Noelle questioned that decision at the moment. It was clear they hadn’t taken into consideration the winter in Montana. They’d moved in the summer, which was fine, but in January, she feared walking a few blocks might freeze the nose right off her face. A high of thirty-two degrees for the day was worlds different from the averagelowtemperature of forty-five in San Francisco she was familiar with.
It had snowed overnight. Not a ton, but enough to cover the ground with a fresh canvas of white. It was early afternoon so the streets had been plowed, the sidewalks sanded. The sun was high in the sky. It was the kind of winter day Noelle adored. Clear blue skies that contrasted with the white hillsides.
Beautiful. Freezing, but beautiful.
She reached the door of the dance studio and took her keys from her coat pocket. Grabbing a finger of her glove in her teeth, she pulled, the glove hanging from her mouth as she fumbled to find the right key. Even wearing gloves didn’t ward off the intense temperatures. Her fingers were almost numb. She found the right key and turned it in the lock. She stepped in and closed the door behind her.
The air inside was a bit warmer but not by much. Not wanting to spend a ton on heating when she wasn’t there, she’d set the thermostat to a degree where it wasn’t bitterly cold inside, but it wasn’t pumping out heat she’d have to pay for but never get to enjoy. Besides, arriving an hour or two before her students gave her a chance to warm the place up as well as spend some time alone in the studio.
The dance studio had a welcome desk in front where she or the other teachers would greet students. It gave them a chance to have a direct connection with parents and students before they entered, but she also learned it helped keep chaos down. Kids couldn’t run straight into the studio. They had to check in first. Then they could go to their cubby and store their things or go change. Some of them came straight from school and needed to go put on their leotards, tights, and shoes.
Noelle moved around the desk, across the main dance floor to the back of the building that housed her office. Her first task was to turn on the heat. Then she peeled off her coat and other glove, and placed her gloves in her coat pocket before hanging it on the coat rack on the wall. A shiver ran through her. She wrapped her arms around herself and left her sweater on as well as her scarf coiled around her neck. Her own tights and leotard were buried under layers of clothing, which she chose to leave on until the studio heated up.
She sat in the chair behind her desk and looked around. At first, she thought Holly had lost her mind when she suggested they move, and to Montana of all places. They’d grown up in the Bay Area. California living and weather was all they knew. Sure, they’d traveled as a family to Colorado to go skiing or to visit her grandparents in Billings, but their lives had been spent in warmer climates. And in much bigger cities. Noelle had lived the past five years in San Francisco, dancing with the ballet. Marietta was another planet from what she’d always known.
But the world she had always known was lost to her in every way. Her fingers toyed with the end of her scarf that sat in her lap. She’d gotten to a place where going back wasn’t an option, but she had no clue how to move forward. That was when Holly came up with the crazy idea of moving to Marietta. They’d driven through it once when visiting their grandparents, stopped in the Copper Mountain Chocolate shop that was so popular. But to Noelle, Marietta was a stop on the way to somewhere bigger. Not a place you stopped and stayed.
Not to say it wasn’t a charming and wonderful town. It was. Noelle and Holly had fallen in love with it. But it was…different.
Noelle took a deep breath in and let it out. Her entire existence could be summed up in that word: different. Memories of the accident floated through her mind. The screeching of tires, the shattering of glass… Not quite three years ago and the sounds and sights of it all were as fresh in her mind as if it were yesterday.
Her parents had come into the city to see her dance. They insisted on taking her out to dinner afterward. They’d decided to meet up with Holly and since Noelle used cabs or walked most of the time, she’d hopped in the car with her folks. Laughing and catching up, they never saw the car swerve into their lane, hitting them head on. Her parents were declared dead on the scene. Noelle woke up the next day in the hospital, Holly at her bedside with swollen eyes and news that their world had been turned upside down.
Being in the back seat, along with wearing her seat belt, had saved Noelle. She’d suffered a concussion, her right femur was broken, and her hip was dislocated as well. The doctors were able to get her hip realigned, but her leg took months to heal. Tendon and muscle damage had sealed her fate. In the blink of an eye, she’d lost her parents and her ability to dance as well as she had before.
She ran a hand up and down her thigh. The cold weather made her leg stiffer, but she had no more pain than usual. The doctors told her how lucky she was, but it took her months to even wrap her head around all that had occurred.
Holly was the one who’d saved Noelle’s life. Not physically, but emotionally. Finding Noelle holed up in her apartment, wallowing or crying, she’d get her up, get her out, get her to face life again. Even in the midst of her own pain—for she’d lost her parents too—Holly stepped in and made sure Noelle didn’t wither away and die as well.
Yes. Moving to Marietta had been a good idea. They both needed a new start. Where they were hadn’t been working. Everywhere they went were signs of their “old” life. People who looked at them with pity, people who meant well, but only succeeded in reminding them of all they’d lost. “We need to find a new normal,” Holly had said.
As a freelancer in web and graphic design, Holly could work from anywhere. They both had a decent chunk of savings, having been taught by their parents to be frugal with finances, so they pooled their resources and moved. They put their inheritance from their parents into a savings account, packed up a moving truck, and made Montana home. The cost of living was much less compared to California as well, so between them, they’d be fine.
Noelle ran her hands along the smooth surface of her desk. Yes. Marietta was becoming home. It was her and Holly against the world. They would make it.
It was Holly’s idea for Noelle to rent the dance studio and teach. Noelle could get pretty sore if she was on her feet a lot during the day, but her classes were all in the afternoon and only a few in the evenings. Most of her students were children so they filled the classes from four to seven p.m., then twice a week she held classes for adults. There was an adult ballet class and a ballroom dance class where she didn’t have to be as involved and could sit when needed. Her injury limited her, but she’d be damned if it stopped her.
And once again, Holly had been right. She predicted the dance studio would keep Noelle close to the one thing she loved most in life while getting her out of the house and moving, something she didn’t do much of after the accident. Recovery had been slow, but even when she was deemed healed by her doctors, her heart and mind hadn’t recovered. They still hadn’t. But the move was helping. As was teaching. Noelle owed Holly a lot. Everything, really.
The air in the office was warmer than before. The heater was doing its job. She stretched her arms above her head in an attempt to get some kinks out. It was time to move around. Time to get ready for classes. Unraveling the scarf from her neck, she stood and placed it with her coat on the coat rack. She also peeled off the layers she’d worn over her dance clothes and folded them, placing them on the bench that sat along one wall of her office.
She stepped into the main room and flipped on the overhead lights. Another counter stood in the back of the dance hall, one meant for teachers to keep notebooks, information, anything they needed during class or to dialogue with Noelle about. She had two young women who came in to help her teach. Both were high school girls who weren’t professional by any means, but had down the basics of dance having done it since they were small. They needed after-school jobs and worked for a wage Noelle could afford.
The room was rectangular in shape with sprung wood flooring appropriate for dance. The front wall was made entirely of mirrors with a barre installed along the length of it.
Noelle put on her shoes and laced them up. Taking time to stretch, she soaked in the quiet. The calm before the storm, the other teachers called it. Noelle smiled. Ten to fifteen little girls in one room, excited about dancing, was an accurate picture of a storm; but man, were they cute. She couldn’t get enough of their cherubic cherub-like faces. Some of them still had a wee bit of baby fat left on their arms and legs. Their torsos were wrapped in pink leotard and tutus, their ballet shoes so small with pieces of elastic across the top to hold them on.
Students started at five years old. Her first class was five- and six-year-olds, the next class seven- to nine-year-olds, and the final class of the evening ten-year-olds and up. She only had a handful of students in that age group. Most of the kids that age moved on from dance and found other interests such as school sports—or in Marietta, the rodeo. Noelle understood. Dance took a lot of time. And discipline. If a kid didn’t love it enough to pour heart and soul into it, the joy would fade. And what good was dancing without joy from within fueling it?
She turned on music then moved to the barre and began going through basic movements. Lost in the tune and motions she could do in her sleep, she didn’t hear the front door open and close.
