The Ballerina's Stand - Angel Smits A Chair at the Hawkins Table

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fool me,” she said. “You’re signed up for the sign language classes, by the way. They start on Thursday. 7:00 p.m. At the Y.” She spun around, and he listened as the even tone of her heels echoed through the empty office.

      “You’ll be there, too, right?” he called after her.

      “Yes,” was her begrudging reply. “I had both registrations put on your credit card.”

      He heard the elevator’s ding and the whoosh of the doors. Maybe when she stepped off the elevator she’d be in a better mood, maybe when she got home, she wouldn’t be so grumpy.

      The ringing of the phone a few minutes later startled him out of his thoughts. “Hello.”

      “Hey, little brother.” Wyatt’s voice boomed through the line, as if he were in the next room instead of Texas.

      “Hey, yourself. Is everything okay?”

      “Why does something have to be wrong for me to call you?”

      “Because that’s the only time you call.” Despite the ribbing, he knew Wyatt would be grinning on the other end of the line.

      “Yeah, well. I’ve been thinking.”

      “That’s dangerous.”

      “Funny. I was thinking about your offer. Emily and I’ve been talking. We think we’ll take you up on it.”

      “Offer?” He racked his brain. What offer? Oh, yeah. “To come visit?”

      “Don’t sound so shocked.” Wyatt’s laughter sounded good, comforting. “And don’t worry, we aren’t going to crash at your place. This is technically our honeymoon, you know.”

      Jason wasn’t touching that one. “Yeah? So when are you planning on coming?”

      “In a couple of weeks. Emily’s got to clear her docket, and we’re moving the last herd upstream. After that, we should be able to manage.”

      “How long you planning to stay?”

      “Remember what Mom used to say?”

      “No.” Wyatt, being the eldest child, had had more time with Mom, more chances to learn about her.

      “When they start asking how long you’re staying, it’s time to leave.” Wyatt’s laugh came again. “Four, five days at most.”

      Jason found himself nodding, looking forward to time with his brother and new sister-in-law—to picking Emily’s brain about family law and the situation with Pal’s will and Lauren.

      None of his family had come out to LA to see him. Not in the two years he’d been here.

      Partially because Jason had made plenty of trips home. When DJ was hurt, then again when he was planning to take off to find Tammie. More recently when his sister Mandy had baby Lucas, and again for DJ and Tammie’s wedding. He hadn’t really been away from them long enough to miss them—and vice versa.

      So, why did LA feel so empty and lonely sometimes?

      “Sounds great.” Jason smiled at his own reflection in the window. “Let me know when you finalize your plans.”

      “Will do.”

      The office seemed too silent after he hung up. As always, Jason had tons of work to do, but none of it appealed to him right now. Except for the research he still had to do. Opening the browser, he punched in names and pulled up facts and faces. Lauren’s publicity photo stared at him from an old news story about a dance studio opening.

      Studio? He followed the link and leaned back in his chair as he scrolled through the beautiful, professional photos of her dance studio. The obviously posed photos of dancers sold the value of the place, touted her skill as a dancer and teacher. One face was predominant among the models. A tall, young man.

      Dylan.

      Jason smiled. Looked like he had a field trip ahead of him. He reminded himself this was research. Research for the case.

      Just research.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      MAXINE DIDN’T OFTEN come to Lauren’s studio. Lauren’s pride and joy was in a part of town her foster mother disapproved of. But Maxine knew why Lauren had built it here, in this once beautiful, iconic theatre that now sat on the fringes of one of the poorest neighborhoods in Los Angeles.

      “It’s the only way to reach them,” she’d told Maxine. “Them” being kids like Dylan and Tina—kids on the streets with talent that might otherwise go undiscovered and lost.

      Much like Lauren would have been had Maxine not taken her in.

      After hitting the play button on the state-of-the-art sound system, Lauren returned to her position in front of center stage. Maxine stood right beside her as Lauren lifted her arms to signal the beginning. Dylan appeared in center stage, a bright light washing over him.

      The last two weeks of relentless practice had been worth it. Dylan did every single move Lauren asked of him, perfectly. She couldn’t have been more proud. But the frown on Maxine’s face made her breath catch. Lauren always struggled to read her when they were in the studio.

      At home, in public, even backstage before a performance, Maxine was an open book. But here, like this—nothing.

      Lauren finally couldn’t stand it, her fingers flying to ask the question. “What do you think?”

      Maxine paced, her eyes intense, her posture perfect. “Good,” she spoke, absently signing at the same time. “Very good.” She turned to Lauren so she didn’t have to sign and Lauren could read her lips. “Maybe too good.”

      “No.” Lauren knew a dodge when she saw one. This whole audition, her hopes of getting Maxine to take on Dylan, was as much about Maxine as it was the boy.

      Maxine was retired from the stage, and more recently from teaching. She spent her days alone, with only her butler as company. The garden had never looked better—Maxine’s other passion besides ballet.

      At seventy-two Maxine was slowing down, and Lauren was worried.

      Lauren wasn’t ready to lose even one drop of time with the only person who’d cared about her after her mother’s death. Maxine needed to stay active and involved.

      Dylan was part of that plan. The fact that he could benefit from Maxine’s guidance was just as important. Done with the routine, he grabbed a towel from his gym bag and joined them, the towel hooked around his shoulders.

      “How’d I do?” he asked Lauren.

      She pointed to Maxine. “Ask her.”

      He turned hopeful eyes to the older woman, and Lauren cringed when she saw his expression fall.

      “You really want to dance ballet?” The older woman signed as she pinned Dylan with that laser-beam stare. That gave Lauren hope. Maxine was interested.

      “Yes, ma’am, I do.” His earnest desire covered his features.

      Maxine walked slowly around him, looking him up and down. Assessing. “You know how hard it is?” The drama of her sign only added to the question. Her well-manicured fingers pointed at him, pointed right in his face.

      Dylan nodded.

      “You realize the ribbings you’ll take? Boys your age don’t do ballet—they—” She paused a moment to get her elderly fingers to spell the word. “R-A-P.”

      “That’s a stereotype. Ma’am.” Dylan jutted his chin up defiantly and Lauren held her breath. She kept her thoughts to herself. If Dylan and Maxine were going to work together, they had to iron out the particulars on their own. The shadow of a smile in Maxine’s eyes was a good sign.

      “You

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