A Daddy By Christmas. Teri WilsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
bade Emily goodbye. Chloe stepped out of the hug and held her breath as her mother approached.
“Hello, dear. Isn’t this a lovely surprise.” Emily kissed her cheek, but the warm greeting didn’t alleviate her sense of shame.
If anything, it made her feel worse.
“Hi, Mom. Allegra. It’s great to see you both.” Chloe could feel her smile start to tremble.
Don’t cry. The only thing that could make her confession more painful was if she fell apart before she could get the words out.
“Are you okay, dear?” Emily glanced at the dainty antique watch strapped around her wrist. She’d been wearing it as long as Chloe could remember. “It’s the middle of the day. Shouldn’t you be performing in the matinee?”
This was it. This was the moment to spill the beans and admit she was the Rockette who’d become YouTube famous for ruining the Thanksgiving Day parade.
She took a deep breath. “No, I’m actually not performing anymore. For now, anyway.”
“What do you mean, you’re not performing?” Emily’s face fell.
The disappointment in her eyes was a knife to Chloe’s heart. For all Chloe’s mistakes, Emily had always been her biggest supporter. Chloe had missed months’ worth of family dinners and get-togethers, but when it came to performing, she’d never failed to make her dancer mother proud. Until now.
“I’m on hiatus for a while.” She swallowed and shifted her gaze over Emily’s shoulder so she wouldn’t have to see her mother’s crushed expression, but then she found herself staring at a slick, glossy poster from one of her own Christmas shows.
The poster hung in a frame surrounded by photographs of herself in various Rockette costumes. The arrangement was practically a shrine.
“Oh dear, you’re not injured, are you?” Emily’s hand fluttered to her heart.
“Please don’t worry, Mom. I’m fine.” I’m just a world-class coward. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t confess to being fired, not while she was standing there, facing the Chloe wall of fame.
Besides, her mom had just given her an excellent idea. An injury, even a small one, would buy her some time to make things right. She could start helping out at the school. She’d answer the phones, manage the dance moms—anything—and once she’d proved her devotion to her family again, she’d finally tell them everything.
Because she was definitely telling the truth, 100 percent. She was just delaying it a tiny bit longer.
Seriously? Just fess up already.
“It’s only a sprain,” she heard herself say, and immediately wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
Allegra gasped. “Oh, no. Please say it’s not your ankle.”
Chloe looked down at her feet. She’d worn Uggs, because it was freezing out, but if she’d had an injured ankle, it would be wrapped. She might even be on crutches. “Um, no. It’s my calf.”
“Your calf?” Emily lifted a brow.
“Yes. There’s a terrible knot in it.” Could she have come up with a more ridiculous lie? There was no way her mother was buying this.
“I see,” Emily said quietly...so quietly that Chloe had the distinct impression that her mother really did understand what was happening, but was so unable to face the truth of the situation that she couldn’t even say it out loud.
But if Emily sensed Chloe was being less than truthful, she didn’t admit it.
“That’s a shame, sweetheart. But whatever circumstances brought you back, I’m glad you’re here.” She smiled. “Really glad.”
Chloe took a deep breath. “Me, too. I was actually hoping you could put me to work.”
“Here at the studio?” Allegra said.
“Yes. I’d love to help run things around here with the two of you. I’ll do whatever you need.”
“But your calf...” Allegra’s gaze drifted downward.
“She’s right,” Emily chimed in. “Your calf could get in the way of doing any teaching. Plus, I’m afraid we can’t really afford it.”
The school was having money troubles? No wonder things looked a little worse for wear. “I didn’t realize...”
Of course she didn’t. Maybe if she’d bothered to show up every now and then, she’d know what was going on.
“I think I might have an idea, but it would only be part-time,” Emily said.
“That’s okay.” She needed a few hours a week off for flyer duty, anyway. “I’ll do anything.”
“We’re doing Baby Nutcracker this year, and you’d be a perfect director.”
“Baby Nutcracker?” Chloe had no idea what that meant, but she didn’t ask. Whatever it was must have been added to the school’s annual repertoire, and she didn’t want to draw yet more attention to her prolonged absence. “That sounds like fun. I’d love to.”
Emily and Allegra exchanged a glance.
“Are you sure? It might be part-time, but it’s not an easy job,” Allegra said.
“And you’d need to be around until Christmas Eve.” Emily raised her brows, waiting for an answer.
Perfect. “I’m sure.”
“Great. You can start right now.” Emily brushed past her and held the door open for the crowd of parents with small children who’d appeared out of nowhere and were lined up on the sidewalk outside.
Wait. What?
“Now?” Chloe gulped.
“Now.” Emily nodded.
Allegra leaned closer. “I’ll help. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”
Thank God for sisters-in-law. “I’m clueless.”
“Baby Nutcracker is a Christmas recital for the preballet students, aged three to five.” She pushed open the door to the main classroom and waved Chloe inside. “It’s an abbreviated version of the traditional Nutcracker ballet—same music, same characters, just a bit shorter.”
Preschoolers dressed as mice, nutcrackers and a sugarplum fairy? Yes, please. Who would turn down this job? “That sounds adorable.”
Allegra crossed her arms. She seemed to be biting back a smirk. “When was the last time you taught preballet?”
Was this a trick question? “Never. I might have helped out back when I was a teenager, but that’s the extent of my teaching experience.”
Chloe slipped out of her coat. Luckily, she’d worn a black wraparound sweater and yoga pants—clothes she could move in.
“You can borrow these.” Allegra tossed her a pair of ballet shoes. “If you think your calf will be okay.”
“Thanks.” She swallowed and slipped the shoes on. “I’m excited. This should be fun.”
“The little ones are precious, and the production is definitely adorable. But they’re a handful.” She glanced over Chloe’s shoulder. “And they’re here.”
Right. She could do this. She was usually onstage for a minimum of three shows a day for the entire month of December. Putting together a half-hour ballet recital for a few preschoolers would probably be easy by comparison.
You wanted to be involved, and now you are.
She took a deep breath and turned, following Allegra’s gaze toward the picture