“In about six months. Want to go?”
“I don’t think so.” I shook my head. Although I didn’t mind being on stage, I wasn’t comfortable being directly in the limelight. The success that Nemours found for me beyond the stage was rare in my profession. “Will you…?”
“I’ll be there.” He grinned at his ice cream as he took another bite.
“You seem excited about it.” I laughed quietly.
“I am. I’m proud of my wife. I want to make sure her statue represents her. I refuse to allow her to look like someone else. Marjorie asked me for some pictures. I know the ones I’m going to send her.”
I took his hand to feel his skin next to mine. “I doubt it’ll be much of a crowd,” I said. But it would be interesting to see what he would help them come up with. “Perhaps I will go. December? We can spend our anniversary and Christmas here.”
He grinned but didn’t add anything else. Then he said, “Tell me when we’re leaving.”
I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not, but I loved how he always saidwe. “I thought we’d stay for about a month and then head back. That way I can see you off and welcome you home one more time.”
It stated in my contract that I had to stay in Europe unless we informed Nemours of my leaving for extended periods of time. Me being in America made him uncomfortable.
“You’ll stay with Violet while I’m gone.” Then his demeanor became more serious. “And we’ve had this discussion before, Scarlett. I’m letting it slide this time, but I don’t like surprises when it comes to you. I always know where you are. This trip will be the last of its kind, unless I know about it.”
“All right,” I said. I was going to add more, to say no more surprises, but something stopped me from giving him my word on the matter.
We were getting closer to the Poésy Dance Studio. Two young girls were peeking in the window, pointing, their mothers chatting behind them.
Brando used his chin to point toward them. “See those two little girls?”
“Yes.” I licked the ice cream from my hand. It started to run over the cone.
“Last time I was here, they were crying.”
“What for?” My eyebrows pulled in.
“They found out that you weren’t coming home.”
“Oh.” I stopped. Our linked hands stretched before he stopped to wait for me. “Did I disappoint them?”
“Come,” he said, pulling me along.
When we met up with them, the two girls were laughing, still looking inside, but the mothers’ chatter had ceased. Brando smiled to himself, thinking it was for me. It wasn’t. They were watching him while he licked his ice cream.
Two righteous squeals left the two sets of young lungs after they turned around. Andthentheir mothers looked at me, their eyes alight with recognition.
“Scarlett Poésy!”
“It’s HER!”
The two girls held hands, screeching, jumping around in circles. They were talking so fast that it was hard to understand what they were saying.
“Did one of them call you a beast?” Brando whispered in my ear.
“No,” I said, smiling. “They said I looked like Belle fromBeauty and the Beast.”
“No matter where you go,” Brando muttered.
“You are so tiny!”
“Isn’t she?”
“It’s the shoes,” I said. “Well, not these, my pointe shoes. They’re made to make me look taller.”
