Claire stood in the middle of the room. This was her life, the thing that had brought her here. And now it was all about to come to fruition. Months of hard work after a year of heartbreak. It was all going to be okay.
Maybe.
Leaving her beloved New York City and coming all the way to this tiny Georgia beach town had been a leap of faith, for sure. Her friends back home thought she was crazy. Why couldn’t she just stay there and make a new start? Why had she pursued this insane idea of running a dance studio in a small beach town she knew nothing about?
After all, she could’ve had her pick of jobs as a dance teacher in Manhattan or any of the surrounding areas. She was known there. She’d had her career there. And then she’d lost her career there over a year ago.
There’s something about grief. It presents itself at the strangest times. And right now, she felt a mixture of joy and grief as she looked around at the wide expanse of hardwood floors flanked by mirrors around the room.
She tapped her foot on the floor, aching to rise up onto her toes and feel the familiar cracking in her joints as she pushed them past their limits. But she couldn’t. Not yet. The doctor had warned her that going too fast would jeopardize her new career as a dance teacher.
Never again would she dance professionally. The thought pained her, hence the reason for her grief.
A career shattering injury to her knee over a year ago had claimed the extra years of performing she’d planned to do. The New York City Ballet had been her ultimate goal, and she’d fallen just short of it.
For awhile, she’d shunned the idea of teaching kids. It seemed like the worst kind of failure. But then she’d come around to accepting the idea after volunteering for a friend at a dance camp for kids in Brooklyn.
She started to see dance as a way to help kids and still be able to communicate her art form to others. When she’d learned through a friend that a school was for sale in her price range in Georgia, she’d been intrigued by the idea.
The place had needed some work. The former owner, a professional dancer herself, had retired and moved to Hawaii, leaving the place empty for three years. Residents wanted a dance school for their kids, so she’d have an immediate income stream, which she desperately needed now. New York City wasn’t a cheap place to live, by any means.
January Cove still didn’t feel like home, even after living there a few months. She’d made a few new friends, and she loved seeing the ocean every day on her walk to the studio.
But it wasn’t home yet, which was why she was anxious to get the place opened up for new students soon. The renovation work was done which meant she could open her doors in just a couple of days. Getting back to some kind of routine was something she was looking forward to. She didn’t have a lot else to look forward to right now.
It was mid-November, and that meant the holiday season was now in full swing. She imagined that she could somehow harness the power of Christmas to get her new studio noticed, although she didn’t know how just yet.
She’d been in full scale dance productions near famous Broadway venues, yet she felt a little more anxious about this. She didn’t have her old friends to bolster her confidence, and starting over was harder than she’d thought.
“Everything look okay?” her contractor, Robbie, asked her from behind. The young guy had given her a great deal on refinishing the floors, replacing stained ceiling tiles and updating the plumbing.
“It looks beautiful,” she said, putting her hands in a prayer position under her chin. “Better than I imagined.”
“Great,” he said, a broad smile on his face. One of the reasons she’d given him a chance was because he was a young husband and father, just trying to support his new eight-month old baby. Any time she could support a family trying to stay together and succeed, she’d do it. In reality, she was a little jealous to be in her mid-thirties without a family of her own. No husband, no prospects. And no baby cooing and keeping her awake at night.
Her career had come first at the expense of her personal life for so many years.
“Let me get your check,” Claire said, realizing Robbie was still standing around waiting to get paid. She walked to a small table that was serving as her stand-in desk and picked up the check. “Here you go.”
“Thanks so much,” he said, gratefully looking at the check. “Please let me know if I can do anything else for you.”
She nodded. “I will.”
Robbie turned and left, leaving her alone again in the large room. She smiled as she thought of the little feet that would soon dance on these floors. As pretty as they were right now, she longed to see scratches and imperfections, sure signs that happiness was found here.
Twinkle Toes Dance Studio was about to become a reality.
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