When the Music Stops (27 page)

Marta shook her head. “What will happen to the studio?”

“They don’t know, Marta. For now we’ll keep things going as usual.”

The phone rang, jarring Marta’s thinking. As her mom answered the phone, Marta returned upstairs to be alone until her last evening class with Paige, which was to be more of a celebration than a class. As she prepared, a gnawing sensation interrupted her focus. Lindsay filled an important part of her life, but now she’d be living over a thousand miles away. Her ten years of teaching, being an important community asset, and being Marta’s staunch supporter would end. And if the studio closed now…. There had to be some way to allow the studio to continue without Lindsay.

After her class with Paige, Marta rejoined her mom in Lindsay’s office where they shared a sandwich. Her mom shook her head and closed her eyes. “I guess we always knew there’d be a chance Adam’s orders would change, but I hate to see ten plus years of Lindsay’s hard work disappear. It feels so wrong.”

Marta doodled on a pad as they spoke. “I agree. This could be our last recital unless Lindsay finds a buyer, or…what if we found someone to buy the studio? I know it’s a harebrained idea, but maybe we could make that happen.”

Her mom’s eyes widened. She stood and looked around the office as if sizing up what she saw. She turned toward Marta. “I don’t know. Maybe. Do you think we could work with a different owner?” Her mom’s face registered a look of surprise. “Wait. You said we. Does that mean you’d stay and teach? You’d be giving up your dream to dance again.”

“I know. I’d stay for awhile, anyway. Over the past months I’ve let my plans and friendships slip away. This afternoon my mind spun through so many things: Steve, Lynne, dancing professionally, working and dancing here, Lindsay’s support, and of course your support and love of this place. I’d stay here and help until the studio’s future became clear. I owe that much to you and Lindsay.”

Her mom smiled and sat down. “Honey, you can’t base any decisions on owing something to people. Caring about someone doesn’t mean you need to pay them back. Hopefully, a buyer will emerge. Just so long as it isn’t that friend of Zandora’s who’s had her eye on the building for an Arthur Murray studio. If Lindsay or if we find someone to buy the studio, it needs to happen quickly. Perhaps we could try to buy it. I don’t know if we’d qualify, or how much this dance studio is worth, but we could check into it. Let’s see what Lindsay figures out before we get too worried about details.”

Marta waved as her mom backed out of the Corbett driveway. She closed the door and stood with her back against it. An unexpected stillness flowed through her. If they did buy the studio, she’d be tying herself to staying in Bremerton for an unknown about of time. That affected her future as a dancer, as well as her future relationship with Steve, if it still existed. She decided to stop worrying about what
might
be and focus on something that
could
be decided very soon.

h

As Marta and her mom drove to the studio the next morning, they continued brainstorming.

“If all else fails and I try to get a loan for the studio,” her mom said, “I may have to sell the house. That would mean our family home would be gone. If you had to pick one to save, the dance studio or our family home, which would you choose?”

Marta smiled. “All my memories of growing up are tangled inside both of them. I’ve laughed and cried, worked through problems, and found happiness in both places. It’s hard to choose. I hope I’ll know what to do if selling our home becomes necessary.”

When they’d parked the car and gone inside, her mom hugged her. “Maybe we can salvage both. I’ll call Lindsay when we have a break between classes to learn what she’s thinking.”

A loud chattering at the door startled Marta. She shook out her arms and legs and twisted her head side to side to release her tension as she welcomed in the kinders. She glanced at her mother before she led the children upstairs. “How is everyone today? I hope you’re ready to dance and sing. I’ve found a new song for us. Let’s sit down and get started stretching.”

h

During their lunch break Marta and her mom locked the door again and resumed their discussion. “Lindsay called to say she didn’t have any information yet, but that she and Adam were working on it.”

Marta circled the waiting room, straightening the cushions and picking up loose bits of paper. “The waiting around is hard. It’s like standing in the wings, dressed to perform, waiting to see if the dancer you’re understudying can go on or not.”

Classes began and ended as Marta struggled to stay focused. By the end of the day, she’d exhausted all her reserves thinking about so many things. Would Lindsay expect Marta would take over teaching
all
the classes permanently? What about auditioning for a professional ballet company? Marta hadn’t even figured out if she was going to tryout again or not. Besides, how was she expected to know what she wanted? She was nineteen, not twenty-five or forty. And what about Steve? What if they did end up together and she moved for his job? What if the Holland Studio hired new instructors and then his job fell through or they broke up? She’d need to start over yet again.

The warm spring day faded to dusk as Marta heard her mom call her downstairs. She looked around the upstairs thinking of all the recital decisions to be finalized over the next few days. She needed to stay focused on the details of the recital and stop thinking about any plans beyond kids, music, and costumes.

They called Lindsay. “We’ve been thinking about keeping the studio open once you move to San Diego,” her mom said. “The dance studio is important to so many people. We want to try to keep it running if possible. We….”

Her mom’s eyes widened. Something had distracted her. Marta turned in time to see Zandora Marcus standing in the doorway with a large box in her arms. She dropped it with a thud, crossed her arms, and smiled as she turned and left.

Marta gasped. They’d forgotten to lock the door.

Marta opened the box to find the capes and hair ornaments Rosalia had borrowed. Of all the times to return them, she thought.

“Lindsay,” her mom said into the phone. “We might have another problem. Zandora overheard our conversation.”

h

By the following morning, dance school patrons began calling and stopping in, worried about the studio. “Where will we go if you leave?” “What about the recital? I paid good money for this year’s lessons and costumes.” “Are you buying the studio and the building?” “I just called Lindsay and she said….”

When Adam called the dance studio, his voice sounded strained. “I’m worried about how this stress is affecting Lindsay and the baby. Why did you give out our private phone number?”

“We didn’t give out your number,” Marta said. “Believe me, we never intended for any of this to get out. We’re so sorry. We’re hoping this all works out.”

Now Marta paced and rocked and wished she knew what her future held. Her mom and Robert had plans, so they’d be staying in Bremerton at least until Robert retired, and that was years away.

Marta’s decision about sticking with the studio would affect her life for years to come. What if she made the wrong choice? What was the wrong choice? What was the right choice? Should she flip a coin? No. She’d need to give it serious thought, after she attended Betty’s early evening school talent show as she’d promised her last week.

The program was short and lively. Betty borrowed a blue, sparkly costume from the dance studio to perform her class dance to
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star
. She made every turn, waved her star wand on cue, and bowed as though she’d been dancing for years rather than less than seven months.

Marta and Sam met Betty in her classroom afterward and handed her a bouquet of carnations. “We enjoyed the program, Betty. You danced like a lovely fairy,” Marta said. “I loved the way you waved your wand and smiled.”

“That’s what I was ‘pose to do,” Betty said.

Sam laughed. “I think we can thank Marta for that new confidence. Now more than ever she wants to become a dancer.”

“Yes, but Daddy, I
am
a dancer,” Betty said, “and I want to be a teacher and a doctor and a taxi driver. Can we get ice cream now?”

By seven thirty, they’d eaten ice cream and tucked Betty into bed. Now Marta and Sam sat for a minute outside in the porch swing. Sam took her hand and absentmindedly rubbed his long fingers along her knuckles as they spoke of their dreams. “I love my job,” he said, “but I hope to scrape together enough money to go back to school and get my doctorate so I can open a counseling service for kids. There’s a need for counselors to help kids through crises like the death of a parent, divorce, or debilitating injuries.”

“I went to a counselor after I broke my foot,” Marta said. “She helped me deal with the stress I experienced not knowing if I’d dance again. She was kind and didn’t push me to make a decision until I had time to heal. I’ve kept up my exercising, and now, after almost a year, I’m close to making that decision very soon. Steve helped me….”

“Who?”

“A friend of mine in Billings.” There it was: Steve crept into her life when she least expected it.

“A boyfriend?”

“Yes, and a good friend,” Marta said. “He took me places to distract me during my recovery.”

“Is he a dancer?”

“No. He’s a reporter from the local paper. Over time he understood how much I missed dancing.”

“Do you still miss dancing professionally?”

“Yes. I used to imagine it every moment of every day. Now it’s only when I play certain recordings or I watch professional dancers perform on television. The longer I’m away, the more my chance to return fades away.”

Sam nodded. “We all have things like that in our lives. What if dancing again doesn’t work out? How do you feel about staying here to teach?”

“I’m giving it serious consideration. I imagine you’ve heard about Lindsay moving to San Diego.”

“I have, and that you and your mom want to manage the studio. I know Betty loves her time there, dancing and being with you. As you saw tonight, she’s become confident. I attribute that to you.”

“Thanks. I try.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. “But right now I need to get home. The studio decisions could happen any day, and I want to be as rested as possible.”

Once she returned home, Marta didn’t think about the situation at the studio. She focused on how Steve popped into her conversation tonight. Why didn’t she tell Sam about her on-going relationship with Steve? The fact he kept stepping forward in her thoughts told her it was time to pick up the phone and dial Steve’s home to address their relationship.

The phone at Steve’s family home rang and rang. Marta held on for a dozen rings, then hung up. She’d made a step toward talking with him, a kind of challenge to herself to break through her stubbornness. For now she’d try to stop thinking about Steve and Sam and Betty and focus on events surrounding the dance studio.

Pacing didn’t help. Neither did rocking. Did she need to restart using diet pills? No. She’d promised to stop, and she’d handled the pressures without them. No reason to slide back now, although who’d blame her in light of all that was happening?

Could she stay in Bremerton, teach at the studio, and feel content creating dances for children? Possibly. She led classes and made children laugh when they danced. She’d helped Rosalia and Paige, sharing her experiences. But was teaching enough to hold her interest? If she didn’t give professional dancing another try, would she always regret that decision?

h

Morning classes and warm-ups began and ended. Recital dances were practiced throughout the day. Still no news from Lindsay. When the students left for the evening, Marta felt jitters run through her as she walked downstairs to meet with her mom.

“I think we need to call Lindsay and find out what we can,” said her mom. “Neither Lindsay nor us need any added stress right now. Do you know what you’ll do if the studio continues on with a new owner?”

Marta closed her eyes and nodded. When she opened her eyes, she wiped away a single tear. “I can’t leave knowing I caused the studio to move backward or close. I love it here. It’s my dance home. I’ll stay if I’m needed.”

Her mom exhaled slowly, stood, and hugged Marta. “Thank you, honey. I know all of this is overwhelming, but life’s always changing. Every decision is a gamble. You’ll see. Everything will work out the way it’s intended.”

At eight thirty that evening they drove to Lindsay’s home. Lindsay greeted them with a smile, but the strain on her face didn’t fool anyone.

“The dance studio is important to us and to the community,” Marta’s mom said. “We want to work with whomever buys the dance studio. Or, if it means we take out a home loan, we’ll do our best to secure enough for a down payment to buy the building. We’ll work on getting the funds for buying the business as well.”

Lindsay shook her head, and bit her bottom lip. “That’s wonderful, but it may be too late. The bank received an offer from an anonymous source to take over the loan and pay an additional twenty percent above the loan amount to buy the building and close the deal within a month. But he hinted he could hold off submitting the offer for a few days so someone else could bid on it. Do you know anyone who might be interested?”