Now he was kneading his hands, which were chafed and red from scooping. “I can’t feel my fingertips,” he mumbled.
“It’s just a little frostbite,” I deadpanned.
I nearly burst out laughing when he actually looked alarmed, but decided not to push my luck that much. “Kidding!” I said, then added, “soak them in some warm water for a few minutes and they’ll feel better.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, but didn’t seem to have the energy for a rebuke. Instead, he surprised me by muttering, “Thank you. For making the ice cream.”
I nodded. “You’re welcome.” I glanced at my watch. Aue! Rehearsal was in fifteen minutes, and it would so not be good to show up late, today of all days. “I have to go.”
Mr. Sneeves stared at me in disbelief. “What? Now? But who’s going to deal with customers until the parlor closes? And clean up afterward?”
I shrugged, stifling a smile. “What are you doing right now, Mr. Sneeves?”
I tossed him a pair of fairy godmother wings and a ruffly purple apron. Then, without another word, I left the parlor.
“Malie.” Signora Benucci glided toward me. “It’s so good to see you.”
I smiled. “I’m so glad to be here.” The studio was a bustle of activity; the entire Cinderella company was here and warming up to dance. I soaked in the soundtrack of the room—the chattering of the milling dancers, the classical music playing in the background, the muted thunking of ballet shoes on the wood floor. Omigod, I’d missed this place!
“First things first.” Signora Benucci’s tone was all business. “Do you feel you can do this? You’ve missed over a week of rehearsals. Normally I’d never allow this type of break in protocol …”
“I know I can.” There was no room for doubt. Not if I was going to seize this chance.
She nodded. “We’ll need Will for the pas de deux, and a run-through of Cinderella’s dance with her mice friends. Now—”
“What’s going on?” Violet was marching toward us, her expression indignant. If she still felt any worry over Mom losing her job, there was no sign of it now. “I just heard that Malie was getting her part back?”
“If she shows me that she can dance the part,” Signora Benucci said.
“But I’ve had the part for over a week!” Violet cried. “You can’t do this! It’s so unfair.”
“No,” Signora Benucci replied matter-of-factly. “Unfair would be not giving her the chance to prove herself when she’s missed rehearsals for circumstances beyond her control.”
“But—but—” Violet held up a pair of silver glittering pointe shoes. “The costume’s already been altered. And there’s only one pair of Cinderella pointe shoes! There’s no way Malie’s feet are the same size as mine! Look!” She laid the shimmering silver pointe shoes beside my feet. It was obvious. They were much too small for my feet.
“I still have my pointe shoes,” I said to Signora Benucci, “but the toe boxes are dead. I could wear them at the performance if I have to, but I’m not sure they’ll hold up—”
“Will these do?” a voice said behind me.
My heart danced in my chest. No. It couldn’t be—
I spun around to see Lanz standing there in the studio. He held a pair of glittering pointe shoes in his hand.
“I added a pair on to Mom’s order form for you,” he said casually, as if it was no big deal he was standing here, Stateside. As if he’d never been gone at all. “In case you changed your mind about dancing. I always had faith in you.”
I couldn’t wait through another word. “Lanz!” I threw my arms around him with so much force that we both staggered backward, nearly toppling.
“Wow!” Lanz laughed into my ear. “Now that’s a welcome home.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “What’s this now? You didn’t miss me, did you?”
“More than you know,” I whispered into his ear. Heat rose to my face. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”
“Ovviamente! Of course! This is my home now. And I wasn’t going to miss seeing you perform as Cinderella. Not for a million sundaes.”
“But—but you left. You said you were going back to Italy to be with your dad—”
“For the week. For a visit. Mom picked me up from the airport a few hours ago.” His eyes lit up in that familiar, disarming way, and it was all I could do to keep from throwing my arms around him again. “The annual gelato festival came to Milan this week. Dad flew me out for it.” His smile widened. “We won an award for best new flavor. Fairy-Tale Ambrosia. Of course, Dad added a few new ingredients, marshmallow cream and—”
My second hug, tighter than before, muffled the rest of his words. Then I pulled back. Everything about him—his unkempt curls and velvet brown eyes, his cutely crooked teeth—seemed to have grown even more adorable in the time we’d been apart. Oh, my heart. It was a puddle.
“Did you get my email?” I asked softly.
A tenderness came into his eyes as he nodded. “You said everything I needed to hear.” He tucked a finger under my chin, lifting it toward his face. I closed my eyes, and—
“Um, excuse me,” Violet interrupted. “I hate to break up the reunion, but are we going to see whether Malie can dance this part or what?”
We stepped apart. My cheeks flamed as I realized Signora Benucci’d been witnessing everything with wide, wondering eyes. Now she cleared her throat delicately but meaningfully. “Yes. I see those English lessons have been going very well.” She raised an eyebrow at Lanz.
“Now don’t throw any shoes at me, Mammina,” he laughed.
“Hmm … we’ll talk later,” she said, but she was smiling. “After this rehearsal, which we need to start. Now.”
“Va bene,” he said to her. “I’ll go. But first …” He knelt at my feet. “Adesso, let’s see if the shoe fits.”
Gently,
