The Girls Of Mischief Bay. Susan MalleryЧитать онлайн книгу.
all her clients to sign up for classes online. Once they created an account, they could purchase sessions individually or in packages. She received a report every day, the money was automatically deposited in her account and, best of all, she didn’t have to pay for a receptionist. That savings meant that she’d been able to hire a couple of part-time instructors and cut her work hours down to sixty instead of eighty.
About a year ago, she’d been struggling with her accounting software. She’d casually mentioned it and Pam had offered to help. Now her friend spent about an hour every couple of weeks going over the books and making sure Nicole stayed on top of things like taxes and the mortgage. Because she hadn’t just bought the business, she’d also bought the building. An expense that sometimes had her lying awake at night, wondering if she was ever going to feel that they were financially stable.
“You’re in great shape,” Pam said as she looked up. “And I’m not just talking about your ass.”
Nicole smiled. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I haven’t had to correct any entries for at least a couple of months. With the automatic payment reminders in place, you’re able to hold on to your money as long as possible and still get the bills paid on time. You, my dear, are turning into a tycoon.”
“I think tycoons take home more than what I do.”
“It’s all a matter of perspective.”
Nicole wished she had her friend’s confidence in herself. Pam had worked in her husband’s company for years so all this came easily to her. She’d also most likely paid attention in school. Nicole had grown up with the idea that an education was for other people and that she needed to focus on her art. All fine and good until the moment when art ended and the real world began.
Pam tilted her head. “Are you all right? You really are doing well. You’re putting aside money for taxes and into savings every month. The monthly costs are fairly stable and the business is growing. So why aren’t you smiling?”
“I’m smiling on the inside.” Nicole shifted in her chair. “I’m sorry. I really appreciate the help and you’re right. The news is great. I’m just tired.”
Pam nodded, but didn’t speak. She was good at that, Nicole thought. Knowing when to ask and when to keep quiet. Was it a mom thing? Would she develop the skill as Tyler got older?
The silence stretched on a few seconds more. Nicole gave in to the inevitable and sighed.
“Eric and I aren’t seeing much of each other these days,” she admitted. “I’m always heading to work and when I get home, he’s going out to his critique group or his screenwriting class. It’s hard.”
What she didn’t mention was that her husband was getting home later and later, often smelling of beer. She understood that a few people in class wanted to go out afterward, but Eric had a family to come home to. She didn’t understand what was happening to him. To them. And the unknown scared her.
“I know it’s hard,” Pam told her, her tone caring and warm. “I don’t know how you haven’t killed him. I swear to you, if John came home and told me he was quitting his job to write a screenplay, I’d back the car over him.”
“John would never do that. He’s a responsible guy. Predictable.”
Pam body tensed a little, then relaxed. “You’re right. And most of the time, that’s a good thing.”
“When isn’t it a good thing?”
Her friend shrugged. “After thirty years of marriage, a little unpredictability would be nice.”
“Is everything okay?” Nicole asked. Because selfishly, she needed Pam’s marriage to be better than her own. Somehow knowing Pam was okay gave her a safe place to be.
“We’re fine,” Pam assured her. “It’s just…” She drew in a breath. “I’m fifty.”
Nicole waited for the revelation. When Pam didn’t say anything else, she searched for some kind of meaning. “I was at your birthday party last fall. You’ve been fifty for a while.”
“I know, but I didn’t feel it before.” She waved her hand. “You’re thirty and gorgeous and you won’t understand, but trust me. One day you’re going to look in the mirror and wonder what happened. It’s not that I’m unhappy with my life. I get the blessings. My kids are still talking to us and coming over to dinner every Sunday. They’re happy. John and I are healthy and I’m pleased to see him at the end of the day. It’s just I didn’t think it would happen so fast. Me getting old.”
“Pam, you’re not old. You’re fantastic. You’re one of my best students. You can keep up with anyone. You’re in terrific shape.”
“You haven’t seen me naked,” Pam muttered. “It’s nothing like what it used to be.”
Lulu wandered into the office. Pam bent down and picked her up, then petted her.
“All I can tell you is pay attention to what you’re doing, because you’re going to blink and it’s going to have been twenty years.”
Nicole wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but she nodded, anyway. “I can see that with Tyler. He’s growing so fast. He still thinks watching my old performances is great fun. In a few years he’ll pretend he doesn’t know me.”
“They do go through that stage.” Pam cradled Lulu in her arms. “I’m glad you had all those tapes put onto DVD. You’ll always have them.”
“They’re not all that great to watch.”
“To you, maybe. I’ve only seen a couple, but they were beautiful. You’re a talented dancer.”
A few months ago talk during class had turned to her former dancing career, such as it was. Pam and Shannon had insisted on seeing proof of her claims to have danced professionally and she’d brought in a DVD.
After graduating from ASU, she’d done what every other self-respecting dancer did. She’d headed for New York. Armed with determination, a lifetime of her mother telling her that she had to be a star and recommendations and introductions from her instructors, she’d started the arduous process of going to auditions.
It had taken two brutal winters for her to realize that she simply wasn’t Broadway material. Or off-Broadway. She managed to get hired for two different Rockette shows and had danced for free for a few small productions that no one had seen. But she hadn’t had whatever it was that got dancers noticed. At the end of those two years she’d returned to LA, where at least she could be poor and hungry in a sixty-degree winter.
She’d been down to her never-to-be-touched emergency five hundred dollars. It was all that stood between her and finding a bed at a shelter. A sign outside of Mischief in Motion had said the owner was looking for someone to teach a dance-based exercise class. She’d been desperate enough to try.
Nicole had found that she liked the work. Over the next couple of years, she’d gotten certified in several kinds of fitness instruction, including Pilates. Now six years later, she owned the studio. So at least that part of her life was doing well. And she had Tyler. As for her marriage, well, maybe that was a problem for another day.
“I like what I do now,” Nicole said, knowing that she had been luckier than most. “I just need to get better at juggling.”
“Balance is never easy. I’m not sure it’s possible.” Pam rose, Lulu still in her arms. “Trust me. I think it’s like those fake holidays created by the greeting card industry. We pay attention to different things at different times in our lives. Sometimes we get it right and sometimes we don’t.”
“Always with the wisdom,” Nicole teased. “Can I be you when I grow up?”
Pam smiled. “You’re already grown-up. See? Everything happens when we’re not paying attention.”
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