“Ooh ... that’s pretty.” Isabel touched the filmy pink fabric.
“Well, if I’m going to perform, I have to dress the part, don’t I?” Why she’d thrown the skirt in her bag during her frenzied packing was beyond her. Habit, perhaps. But it would come in handy tonight. Along with the leotard and tights she’d worn to rehearsal this evening under her T-shirt and sweatpants.
“Do you have a tutu too?”
“Not with me. That wouldn’t have fit in my suitcase. Besides, they’re all owned by my ballet company. I can’t take them home.” She rose, turned her back on the two men, stepped into the skirt, and tugged it up. Only then did she shimmy out of her sweatpants. After setting them on the chair beside her, she pulled her T-shirt over her head and retook her seat.
Isabel sat beside her, watching as she tied the ribbons on her shoes.
Once she was ready, she stood again. “After I do a few warm-ups, I have two short dances planned for you. Sound good?”
“Yes.” The girl sat back in her seat to watch.
As Devyn crossed to the center of the room, she called out to Aaron and Ben. “Give me a few minutes to warm up, then we’ll get this show on the road.”
Ben smiled and settled back. “No rush on our end.”
She ran through an abbreviated warm-up—leg swings, lunge stretches, hip rolls, butterfly stretches, neck turns, shoulder rolls, splits—then moved on to a few relevés, pirouettes, jetés, chassés, and grand battements.
As she went through her routine, the tension flowed out of her.
This was her element. The familiar world where she’d spent her youth and adulthood. Where she was in control.
By the time she finished the warm-up, her unusual case of nerves had vanished.
It was time to dance.
When she started back to her chair to get the music prepped, applause broke out.
“That was beautiful, Devyn.” Ben grinned at her as all three Steeles clapped. “Graceful as a swan gliding across a lake. I’ve never been to a ballet in my life, but watching you makes me want to buy a ticket.”
She smiled at him. “You’re easy to please. That was only a warm-up.”
“But it was a terrific preview of what’s to come. Don’t you think so, Aaron?” He elbowed his grandson.
Devyn peeked at Isabel’s father as she continued toward the chair.
“Yes.” He glanced at the older man, his expression inscrutable. “I’m sure the dancing will be even more impressive.”
“Me too!” Isabel chimed in from her seat a few yards away.
Devyn pulled out her phone and scrolled through to the recordings she’d made for the two pieces that were a standard part of her repertoire since she’d become a principal dancer. “Tonight I’m going to do the ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’ fromThe Nutcrackerand the title role Act 1 variation fromGiselle. I’ll do them back-to-back, with just a few seconds in between. Are you ready?” She surveyed the group.
“Let ’er rip.” Ben swept a hand toward the center of the room.
She handed her phone to Isabel. “When I nod at you, will you press the button to start the music?”
“Yes.”
Centering her mind on the dances ahead, she called up her performance persona and walked to the middle of the room as if it were the stage at Lincoln Center. Took her position. Dipped her head.
Once the music began, the magic would happen, as it always did. She’d become the character she was portraying, her movements joined to the melody, and the world around her would cease to exist.
As for the three people in her audience tonight?
She’d do her best to carry them along with her—but while she danced, it would be all about control and mastery and technique and oneness with the music.
Only after she finished would she focus on them again.
