“Well?” He glanced up at me expectantly.
I flexed my feet, then slowly rose onto my toes in a relevé, testing the shoes. I smiled, feeling regal. “They’re perfect.”
“We’ll see how you dance in them,” Violet said stiffly.
Signora Benucci looked wary as she studied the new pointe shoes. “You haven’t broken them in yet …”
“It’s all right,” I said. I flexed my feet again, knowing by feel that later, I’d have to crush the toe boxes. Instinct told me what I’d need to do to make them my own. “I can wear them for today.” I looked at Signora Benucci. “I’m ready.”
Violet gave an almost imperceptible huff as Signora Benucci nodded. “We’ll start with the opening number.”
Lanz offered me one last swoon-worthy smile before he left the studio. I smiled, my heart beating in anticipation of when I’d have my next moment alone with him. I wanted to hear about his time with his dad, and to fill him in on everything he’d missed while he was away. And—oh—I wanted that missed kiss.
But first, there was something I had to do. Instinct sharpened my focus until that welcome, familiar feeling of intensity and purpose solidified my resolve.
Dance. This moment was for dance.
Signora Benucci readied the music while the other dancers moved to the outskirts of the floor to watch. I took my spot at the center of the room.
The music began, and, seamlessly, as if I hadn’t missed a day’s rehearsal, I danced. Everything that had happened in the last few weeks melted away, until it was my body and the music. Everyone fell into silence as they watched, but that didn’t matter to me. Nothing mattered except the unbridled joy I felt.
I worked my way through the first three numbers before Signora Benucci called for a break. I glanced around the room and saw several people whispering, and Violet staring at the floor, looking uncharacteristically reserved. I held my breath, waiting, wondering if I’d done it.
“Malie.” Signora Benucci smiled at me. “You are our Cinderella.”
My heart thrilled, and I closed my eyes in gratitude, that I’d been given this second chance. “Thank you,” I managed to whisper.
Then I caught a glimpse of Violet’s lip trembling. I understood what that sort of disappointment felt like. I’d been where she was now, just one week ago.
I moved toward her, and before she could protest, I hugged her. “I’m sorry it can’t be both of us.” I meant it. “You’re an incredible dancer.”
“You are,” Signora Benucci said to her kindly. “I’m hopeful that both of you may have futures in dance, if you keep working.”
A stream of emotions crossed Violet’s face—anger, frustration, disappointment—and I wondered how much of her demeanor was shaped by her fear of rejection. Maybe, underneath her stuffy exterior, she was simply fighting for her dreams the only way she knew how.
“You deserve the part,” Violet said quietly, directing her words toward me without making eye contact. “This time. I knew it when I saw you audition. But—” She lifted her eyes to mine in a challenge. “Next season, expect some serious competition.” She held out her hand.
I shook it. “We’ll keep each other on our toes.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “You should really leave the jokes to your boyfriend.”
I blushed at the word, but I knew it fit Lanz perfectly. My heart belonged to him.
“All right, ladies,” Signora Benucci said, her tone all business. “Malie, we need to get you fitted for your costumes. And now I want to run through all of your pas de deux combinations with Will. Violet, I want you dancing with your fairy godmother wings on. You need to get used to wearing them. Your balance will feel different with them on.” When we didn’t move quickly enough, she clapped her hands. “Prontissimo, ladies! We have much work to do.”
I hurried toward the changing room, where I could already see the seamstress waiting with her measuring tape. Someone else was waiting for me, too. Mom.
“Malie,” she breathed. “I—I’m speechless.” She hugged me fiercely. “And so proud.” She wiped at her eyes. “We’ll buy you new pointe shoes first thing tomorrow! You’ll have to save your Cinderella pointes for opening night.”
“Mom … we can’t—”
“We can.” She grinned. “While I was at my job interview, I got ten voice mails from Mr. Sneeves. Ten! Begging me to come back to Once upon a Scoop.”
I gaped. “No way. What did you say?”
“That I’d have to think about it.” She sniffed. “Until he offered me twice the salary, two extra weeks’ vacation each year, and agreed to let me hire three additional employees for the parlor.”
My jaw dropped. “That’s amazing!”
“Oh yes,” she went on, “and you and Lanz can stay on, too. I’m giving Lanz the title of junior ice cream maker.” She gave me a meaningful look. “But you won’t need to work as many hours now, which means you’ll have more time for this.” She waved her hand at the studio. “As much time as you want.”
My eyes welled with relief and happiness. After all this time, Mom finally understood me. Or maybe we finally understood each other better.
“Thank you.” I hugged her again, my heart swelling. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered. “I’ll never discourage you from your dream again. That’s a promise.”
After the seamstress took my measurements for the costumes, I went back to the rehearsal. Mom stayed to watch some of it, then headed home to start dinner. The rehearsal was exhausting, but amazing. When we were done and everyone had changed back into their street clothes, I was the last dancer to leave the dressing room. I walked through the studio hallway, dance bag in hand, humming happily.
And then, standing before me, was Lanz. Right in the spot where we’d first met. I realized he was probably waiting for his mom, who was still in the office. Lanz and I
