Authors: Wendy Potocki
“Oh,” she exclaimed, startled.
“I didn't mean to scare you, I can assure you,” he grinned. Moving to the side, he began prowling in a circle. Staring at her body, she felt uncomfortable under his gaze. Undoubtedly scrutinizing her, but for what purpose?
“You know, I'm still deciding who will be my Desirée.”
Remaining silent, she'd love to dance that part. The music of Saint-Saens was so beautiful. Mesmerizing, it had always been a favorite of hers. Making one full pass around, he stood before her with arms folded, hand at his chin.
“You know, the lead must be able to dance the adage. It is a must. All other elements come in second place to this prerequisite.”
Hanging her head, she gave up hope. She’d never be selected—not if that were the criteria.
“You know, that young man was on the right track. He gave you a push in the right direction. I suggest you use it.”
With a quick nod, his heels clicked away. His words haunting her, she scrutinized her image. Gathering her resolve, she was suddenly ready. No longer content to remain a frightened little girl, she would do whatever it took to complete the transformation into a ballerina.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Are you sure you don't want more, Melissa?” Joan asked, tempting her by tipping the tin that was holding the remaining two slices of pumpkin pie.
“No, thank you,” Melissa reluctantly replied. Practically inhaling the slice she’d been served, this meal had been worth the extra calories.
“Well, then, I'll just clear the dishes.” Beginning to make the sweep, her husband stood stretching. Melissa grabbed Todd's plate, stacking it on her own.
“Let me at least help you!”
“Nonsense!” she responded, “Grant will help me.”
Her husband’s arms over his head and reaching to the heavens, he was caught like a deer in the headlights by the statement. His startled face and paralysis attested to the fact he hadn't been expecting it. Starting to grumble an objection, a rapid fire look shot by Joan stifled any comments.
“Yes, dear,” he acquiesced, bending over and scooping up plates as if at a two-for-one sale.
Taking Melissa's hand, Todd led her to the living room. The old married couple paused to look at the pair through
wedding-colored glasses. Hoping that engagement bells would soon be ringing in their future, Melissa had more than won both of their hearts—now it was Todd's turn to do the same with her.
Todd turned on the TV, leisurely surfing through the selection of programs offered by the satellite dish. Not interested in watching, Melissa declined the comfortable seating, dropping to the floor instead.
“Do you mind if I just stay down here? I'm so stuffed,” she said patting her flat stomach.
“Nope. In fact,” he said collapsing next to her, “it's a great idea.”
Rolling onto her side, she balanced her head on her arm.
“Any news on Brandi?”
“You mean, besides what you read in the papers? Nope. It's the most frustrating case. It's like she literally pulled a magic act ... puff of smoke and she’s gone.”
“Really? No leads at all?”
“Oh, thousands! They keep pouring in, but none of them are yielding results. The problem is that nobody knows if someone actually saw her at a pancake house in Tacoma at 1:00 in the morning, so each sighting has to be checked out.” His head drifted towards her. “Missy, this is exactly the sort of thing that happens in stranger abductions or ...” he said not finishing his sentence.
“Or what?”
Pausing, he finally gave her the answer.
“Or when someone wants to get lost,” he said sitting up. Crossing his legs he continued to talk. “I’m now convinced you were right. I mean, she leaves a note, calls a cab, and is seen at the train station buying a ticket, but the trail ends there. My theory is that she didn't get on that train. I'm thinking it was a ruse.”
“A what?”
“A ruse. You know, a charade. A pretense. Something someone does to call attention to the fact they did it, when they're actually planning to do something else.
“Like covering up her tracks?”
“Yes, but a little more ingenious. If you're covering something, you generally have to lie, which means you can get caught and tripped up by a smart investigator, but this? This would be brilliant. A perfect way to get out of the life that she was unhappy living. It would go along with what you said.”
Closing her eyes, a pang of guilt struck hard. Regretting that she’d resorted to subterfuge, she’d been under pressure. She’d just assumed Brandi would arrive home, none the worse for wear, denying Melissa's allegations; but she hadn't arrived anywhere. And now, the investigation was hinging on false statements. Brandi had to be found. The police had to know that she had lied.
“Todd,” she said, opening her eyes to reality. Ready to own up to what she’d done, she placed a hand on his arm.
“Yeah?”
“About what I said ... I might have ...”
“Hope we're interrupting something,” Grant joked, breaking in on the conversation before Melissa had a chance to confess her sins. She sat up quickly, brushing her sweater into place, and fixing her hair.
“I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “We were just ...”
“Talking,” Todd finished.
“I'm sure,” Grant said, rolling his eyes. Grabbing the remote, he started shuffling through channels. “Used to do a lot of ‘
talking’
to your mother before we got married. Used to talk real good if I remember.”
“Stop teasing, Grant! You'll scare off the first decent girl Todd has brought home.”
“Hey, that's not true! No, offense, Melissa, but the girls I've brought home have not all been ...”
“Dogs,” Grant quipped, popping some mixed nuts grabbed out of a glass dish in his mouth. “Every last one of them. Woof! Woof!” Leaning back into a pillow, he watched the aftermath of his remark take effect.
“You see what I've had to go through?” Todd asked, turning to Melissa. “He's impossible. And I used to be able to trust my mother,” he asserted with a poker face.
Enjoying the family skirmishes, nothing serious was going on. And while she wasn't used to being the center of attention, she could become accustomed to it.
“I meant to congratulate you on your making it into the company ranks. Todd told us,” Joan said, sitting next to her husband.
“Thank you, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”
“It's Joan, and is that why you seem so much more relaxed?”
“Yeah, the last time we saw you, you were wound tighter than those ten drummers drumming,” Grant added.
“Yes, well, it's a huge relief. I've been working towards this my whole life.”
“I can imagine. It's a fabulous opportunity, and we can't wait to see the debut.” Giggling excitedly, she continued, “I hear it's
Swan Lake
. Is that true? I've always simply loved that ballet!”
“You mean, the one where the swan girl dives in the ocean at the end? Why the heck couldn't she just swim away? Never understood how a swan could drown,” Grant reasoned.
In spite of feeling guilty about lying, Melissa burst into a gale of laughter. She'd never considered that before, and the thought of a swan drowning was tickling her fancy. The tension of the past few weeks slipping away, she finally got to enjoy a pleasant evening. Of course, the end of it would culminate in a drive home with Todd and admitting the truth. Certain that she’d back out from divulging her secrets, she always did.
“No, not
Swan Lake
,” Melissa replied.
“Darn! And I thought my source was so reliable.”
“She, or he, was, is. We were going to do it, but we have another one planned.”
“Can you give me a hint?”
“I don't really know if I'm supposed to say anything, but then again, it's probably only going to be another couple of weeks before it's announced.”
“Well, then is there any harm in telling me?”
“Joan!” her husband admonished, patting her hand and clucking his tongue. “Isn't she terrible? Gets everything out of me this way. I’ve recommended that Todd use her downtown. She'd wheedle information out of anyone!”
“Stop it!” Joan jabbed back. “You'd think I'd be used to him by now.”
Missy took a moment, considering all the angles.
“Oh, what the heck! It's called
The Black Adagio
. The music is
Danse Macabre
.”
“Ooooh!” Joan exclaimed, clapping her hands. “The one by Camille Saint-Saens?”
“Yes, but this ballet has never been seen.”
“I can't wait!”
“What's this one about?” Grant inquired, his eyes riveted on the TV.
“The music is about skeletons? Or ...” Joan said, deferring to Melissa for help.
“Yes, the ballet is based on some old legend. Something about a skeleton that finds people in the woods and leads them to a final dance of death.”
Grant blanched, throwing the remote to the side.
“That's a terrible idea! After all the trouble in the woods? Damn that school for doing something this crazy. Gives those idiots ideas!”
“Grant!” exclaimed Joan in an attempt to silence the tirade.
Melissa looked over at Todd who put his hand up to his brow, clearly not wanting to get involved.
“I think I know what you're talking about. The Innocents? The ones that held rituals in the woods?” she asked tentatively.
“You know?” Grant asked, surprised that a newcomer would know anything about what went on in Holybrook.
“I heard about it. From what Bonnie said, her boss was one of them, so I doubt they were doing anything more than pranks,” she replied, trying to calm things down.
“Yeah, I heard all about Manny being involved, but I always wondered why he got out if everything was so wholesome.”
“Grant, you're scaring her … and me!” Joan said, attempting to divert the conversation to another subject.
“I mean to! And what about that girl who disappeared?”
“Brandi?” Joan asked. “The one you're looking for?”
“No, not Brandi, the first one!”
“Barbara Moore,” Melissa said as if in a trance. She was so sorry she opened up this subject. It was just like her to put her foot in her mouth. “Look, I apologize for bringing this up. I feel horrible for starting a fight and ...”
“Melissa, I brought the subject up, not you!” Joan reminded. “And it was this weisenheimer over here,” she said tagging her husband with a sharp stab of her forefinger, “that turned it into a brouhaha.”
“Mom's right. Dad, I think you've said enough.”
Grant crashed back into the cushions. Not wanting to let go of the troubling talk, he had more to say—things that he hadn’t felt comfortable saying before, but now? Now that damned ballet school was stirring things up.
“No, not enough. Not nearly enough,” he muttered under his breath.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Zoe Ryan, Justin Tortini, Christina Rohms, Kurt Casings, and Melissa Solange, report to Una Velofsky's office, please.”
The announcement coming as a surprise, Collette giving Missy a push in the back.
“Go!” Collette whispered.
Melissa wasn't sure she should. She was in Viktor's class, and he controlled it with an iron fist. Somehow she felt it imperative to get permission first. Zoe didn't hold the same reservations, and neither did Justin. They grabbed their dance bags, and casually walked out the door.
“Well, are you people deaf? Una is waiting!” Viktor shouted at the top of his lungs. His hands going to his hips in blatant irritation of the three students that remained glued in place. His voice dislodged the trio. They ran for their belongings, and then out the door.
“What do you think this is about?” Kurt asked as they trotted down the stairs.
“If it was just me, I'd think they’d changed their minds,” Melissa asserted, her foot hitting the landing.
Kurt whirled her around, an eruption of fire burning in those bedroom eyes.
“Stop putting yourself down. There are enough people in ballet that do that sort of stuff for you.”
Tina cleared her throat, tossing in her two cents.
“He's right, you know. At some point, you’re going to have to start believing in yourself … no matter what. It's not being arrogant; it's just learning what voices to shut out. It’s called
‘editing’.”
Looking into their earnest faces, she gave them a quick peck on their cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said, wearing her heart on her sleeve.
Throwing on their jogging jackets, they took the most direct route across the lawn. Hoping the grass wouldn't stain her favorite pointe shoes, none had bothered to change out of their dance gear.
Entering the annex, Missy led the way. Swallowing up the three flights of stairs, they turned right, finding Justin and Zoe already seated. Alexei sitting to Una's left, he absent-mindedly swiveled in his chair, while Anna sat on her daughter’s right.