Two Wolves Dancing, page 11
Galilani brought coffee to the table. She paid attention to their remarks about the journal and Stephanie Howard. She was pensive.
Gerald changed the subject to Alina. “Is she coming out of her shell?” he asked.
“No. Nothing has changed significantly,” Galilani answered. “She is still aloof, doesn’t get involved with children her own age and prefers to stay alone and read.” Galilani felt her husband’s intense stare. She changed the subject and asked Gerald if he’d met the new attorney Paul Amato, from the Bernardi & Bernardi Law Firm.
“No I haven’t, why?”
“His wife, the former ballet dancer, opened a new dance school here and they are having a gala. We are invited and we will bring Alina. Why don’t you come too?”
“That’s a great idea,” Bradford added. “You should meet him anyway. I know you’ll like him. Come with us. I’m sure it will be fun and Alina will be thrilled.”
Galilani added, “You and Martin always supported The City Ballet Company. Please come. You can give us your assessment.”
Galilani and Gerald chatted at the front door at the end of the evening. He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Is something wrong?”
Galilani looked surprised. “Yes,” she said. “I can’t put my finger on it. There is something about this Confederate gold legend that’s bothering me.”
Gerald read her face. “The police said Martin’s murder was a random crime, Galilani.”
“Yes they did. Maybe they’re right.” She didn’t tell him about the harbinger of suffering: her nightmare. It happened twice that week.
Trouble is coming.
CHAPTER 21
The restored house gleamed in the October sun. It stood proudly, filled with light and beauty both inside and out as dancers and caterers scurried about getting ready for the gala. Other than the catering truck, the parking lot was empty. Guests were not due for some time.
Chelly tingled with excitement and nervousness as she dressed for the occasion. She and Paul caught each other’s eyes. He winked; she blew him a kiss. He turned away for a moment then walked up behind her as she put the final touches on her make-up.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered. Chelly turned toward him. “No. turn around and close your eyes,” he repeated. Chelly did as he commanded. His hands caressed her neck. He kissed the nape of her neck and Chelly relaxed into the sensuousness of his touch. “Keep your eyes closed,” he whispered, watching her face in the mirror. His hands encircled her throat; his fingers lightly stroked her skin before he draped something cold around her neck. “Be still,” he muttered. She wriggled.
“What are you doing?”
“Done. You can look.”
Chelly opened her eyes. Her hand flew to her neckline. “Oh Paul, what a gorgeous necklace. But you shouldn’t have. We’ve spent so much money on this place….”
“Shhhh…Nothing is too much for my dancing girl.”
Chelly threw her arms around his neck.
“No kisses now,” Paul said, laughing. “You will smear lipstick all over my mouth.”
“Thank you.” Chelly touched her fingers to his lips. “I love you so much.”
“Good. You can show me how much later but for now you have a gala to host.” Before they left their bedroom at the back of the house, a feeling drew Chelly to the window. She couldn’t help herself, she had to look.
He stood there, arms at his sides and a solemn expression on his ageless, exotic face. From under the bandana wrapped around his head, his black hair hung down past his shoulders. Exotic eyes stared through the window and into her soul making her heart flutter. She backed away. This isn’t my imagination. I must tell Paul… but not tonight.
* * *
Hand in hand, Chelly and Paul walked into the dance school from the rear of the house. The transformation of the center hall was glorious. The chandelier and the recessed ceiling lights were lit bathing everything in a bright, warm light. Cocktail tables, covered with shimmering silver cloth over black floor-length table covers, were set up with clear bowls of fresh flowers in the middle of each. The effect was elegant.
The front door opened. Marc Nerro struggled in with a large tutu box which he set down.
“Chelly, my love,” he said, hugging her with one arm and shaking Paul’s hand with the other. “Congratulations. This looks wonderful.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you and Alex are here.”
“And we are glad to be here. They are doing the final run through in the studio.”
Chelly stared at the box on the floor and Marc smiled at her obvious curiosity. “That’s a surprise for you and no peeking. If you look, Alexandra will have my head,” he said. “You know she will get mad as a hornet if I ruin her plan.”
Chelly put her hands up in resignation and laughed.
Marc took the tutu box and walked into the front studio. Chelly and Paul did not follow. They knew that Madame Alex preferred no onlookers in the room when she was in the final stage of preparation. Marc was the only exception. Chelly felt a twinge of nostalgia remembering all the final rehearsals she had done with Madame Alex, but she smiled at Paul when they heard her voice greet Marc.
“There you are darling. Close door and please bring that here.”
Seeing the wistful look on his wife’s face Paul gripped her hand and pulled her along to check the preparations in the rest of the rooms. “This is a big night and everything needs to be perfect,” he whispered.
Madame Alex and her dancers had arrived two days earlier. In preparation, Chelly had placed several ads in local newspapers advertising the date and time the great Kirov legend Alexandra Romanova was to give a Master Class at the new Bernardi Ballet Academy. The ads brought students from all over the city. Her class filled up so quickly that she agreed to give a second one, as long as she and her dancers had plenty of time to rehearse in the studio for this performance. Along with the corps dancers Madame Alex brought MaryAnne and her boyfriend to do the Sugar Plum variation.
Chelly and MaryAnne had been in close touch after Chelly’s return to Sea Cliff a few months earlier. In two brief conversations Chelly realized that something was bothering MaryAnne and every time she asked, her friend avoided the subject. In all the craziness of organizing the gala, the Master Classes, rehearsals and converting the dance school into a proper setting for the gala, she didn’t have time to get MaryAnne alone.
As soon as Madame Alex and the group arrived, Chelly showed them around the entire facility. “You have done a wonderful job Chelly. Excellent environment for dancers to work,” Madame Alex said, as she walked through each studio, assessing the spring in the floors, the clarity of the mirrors and the height of the ballet barres. Chelly was thrilled to have her approval.
The largest room at the front of the house became the largest studio, in which Madame Alex held her Master Classes; now converted into a theater setting. From experience as a dancer in the Romanova Ballet Company, Chelly knew the value of being able to convert dance studios into small theaters to accommodate concert performances. She had been part of many while an advanced student and a professional, for Alexandra Romanova. Chelly pushed her memories away and focused on her school.
During the renovation process she included plans for the required uni-struts and drop down extenders for lights, as well as permanent roll up units above the mirrors and windows to house the transforming black draperies.
Chelly walked through the remainder of the Bernardi Ballet Academy’s studios making certain everything was exactly as it should be. Silly me. Such butterflies. I didn’t get this nervous when I danced.
She and Paul returned to the foyer as the pocket doors opened and stampeding feet charged out of the studio toward the dressing rooms. Chelly laughed at the expression on Paul’s face. “You should know by now that dancers tend to walk hard once they are off the stage.”
“I’ll never get over the fact that you all float and skim the stage as if you are weightless then walk like stampeding cattle.”
The tech staff waiting in the foyer for the dancers to complete their final rehearsal walked into the studio to complete the transformation. Over one-hundred chairs were set in two semi-circle rows in front of the barres for the students of the school, their parents and guests.
Following the technicians into the space, Paul and Chelly had got their first look at the transformed studio. The tech and staff moved efficiently to complete the conversion. Two technicians climbed ladders to set the spots, and others dropped the black draperies down to cover the mirrors. There were portable metal frames holding the black fabric on either side of the dance floor creating wings to hide the dancers’ entrances and exits. The illusion of an intimate theater was completed by the black draped windows behind the permanently affixed ballet barres.
Stage lights hung from the ceiling struts to illuminate the performance area. When the lighting technicians dimmed them to check the settings, Chelly gasped with delight and squeezed Paul’s hand. Her heart fluttered with anticipation. The altered studio was beautiful and exciting.
She felt the promise of an exhilarating performance. Madame Alex’s presentations never disappoint. She walked over to the mirror coverings and gently stroked the opaque, rich, cotton velour. The dance studio was now a perfect little jewel of a black box theater. The moment caught her.
Chelly looked down at her feet. She was standing in fourth position as if in preparation for a pirouette. Constraints of time disappeared. She was propelled into the eternal and simultaneous.
The feelings she had as a dancer getting ready for a show became immediate with the familiar adrenalin rush that made her heart pound. It was as if she was standing backstage preparing to dance as a student, as a corps dancer, as a soloist and as a principal. These were the moments when limitless possibilities waited. She never questioned those feelings. She stood inside the momentary bubble of perfection. “I remember,” she whispered.
The sound of the front door opening and happy voices brought her back into chronological time and the present. The first guests had arrived.
CHAPTER 22
Bradford and Galilani walked in with Gerald and Alina in tow. “Welcome to the Bernardi Ballet Academy,” Paul said, shaking hands with Bradford. Galilani introduced Gerald. Chelly walked over to greet them.
“Oh Miss Chelly. You look so beautiful.” Alina’s eyes were shining.
“Thank you, Alina. I’m so happy you came.” Chelly and Galilani smiled at each other.
“Please, come in.” Chelly pointed them into the little theater, now ready to receive its audience. The doors had been pushed into their wall pockets and the room, in all its magical beauty, beckoned. Chelly saw the space yet again but this time through the prism of Alina’s wide-eyed wonder.
“Are we the first to arrive? If we are too early, we can wait outside,” Galilani said.
“It’s fine. This is when being early is an advantage. You get to pick your seats.”
“Wonderful,” Gerald said. “Let’s get in there and sit in front.” Gerald moved swiftly to get them seated in the center of the front row. As soon as they were settled he turned to Galilani. Chelly heard his excited words as she walked back toward the foyer.
“Now I know who she is. She is Rachele Bernardi. Martin and I always wanted to see the Romanova Company and her, but we never got the chance. What a shame about her career. From what I’ve heard she was something special.”
Chelly looked back. Alina’s excitement was apparent as Galilani, Bradford and Gerald read the program and told Alina what they could about the ballet. Then it hit her. She stared at Galilani. The face of the man in her yard flashed in front of her. That’s the same face.
“Miss Chelly…” a young voice and a hand tugging on her gown claimed her attention. She focused on the face of one of her new students.
“Hi Lila. Mr. & Mrs. Brown. Thank you for coming and don’t you all look lovely,” Chelly said, shaking their hands. “Please, go into the studio. Tonight it’s our own little theater. The program will begin very shortly.” When the space was almost filled, one solitary figure took the last seat at the end of the back row.
The overhead light dimmed and the side curtains were pulled across the doorway. Madame Alex stood beside Chelly in the center hall. “Begin my darling.”
Chelly took a deep breath. The memory of the first time she had danced in one of Madame Alex’s gala presentations hit like an electric jolt. She fought back tears, entered the darkened theater, directing her feet toward the spotlight illuminating the center of the floor.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and thank you all so much for coming to share this special evening.” She went on to speak about the performances they were about to see.
Chelly spoke of Madame Alex’s accomplishments in ballet both in Russia and the United States. “She is a legend in her own time. And now, without further ado, I give you the Romanova Ballet Company.”
The first dancers entered, greeted by warm applause. The lighting changed, the music was cued and an enchanting evening of ballet excerpts began. Chelly stood in the wings. Her eyes saw, but other programs played in her head. Ballet’s enchantment carried her as always.
She remembered the battles to convince her parents that this was the life she was meant for. She remembered the work and the struggles to be the best she could be. How hard I worked. How fast it all ended.
She was on the verge of losing control and it frightened her. I can’t do this to Madame Alex. Chelly forced herself to focus on the performance. She blocked everything else out of her mind.
By the end of the one hour program, the audience was on its feet. “Bravo,” echoed throughout the building. MaryAnne’s boyfriend and pas-de-deux partner, Ronald, ran to the side and brought Madame Alex forward then he went back and brought Chelly forward.
Madame Alex took Chelly’s hand and together they moved to the front and took their bows. MaryAnne stepped forward and handed Madame Alex the microphone. Unbeknownst to Chelly, Madame Alex had a surprise. She held up her hand for silence. Her presence was as commanding as ever, even to those who had never seen her before.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much. It is our pleasure to dance for you and you now have the good fortune to have one of my principal dancers working passing on our art here in Austin,” she said, pointing to Chelly. Applause rang out. “Please Marc.” Madame Alex looked at her husband and he brought in a mannequin covered with a cloth and set it down next to his wife. “I have for Chelly, and for those of you who study here at her school, a special gift. This is the last tutu I wore in St. Petersburg, Russia. When I left, I took it with me for remembrance.”
“My darling Chelly danced in this tutu many times and now I want her to have it here on display in her new studio.”
Madame Alex pulled the white cloth off and revealed a pink tutu overlaid with gold lame. Again, applause range out. Chelly covered her mouth and held back tears. Madame Alex nodded to the doorway and four waiters walked in with shot glasses of vodka.
“For adults only,” Madame Alex said. When everyone had a shot glass, she raised her own and toasted: “Na Zdorov’ye Good health and success.” Everyone joined in the toast.
When the applause and toasts died down, Chelly took the microphone. “I am speechless… almost.” The audience chuckled. “Madame Alex, I can’t tell you how much this means to me. This tutu will be on display and have a special place here in my studio as well as in my heart. And dancers, you all were wonderful, as always.” Chelly turned and applauded the dancers and the audience quickly joined in. “Everyone, please, stay for the party. Again, thank you for coming.” With that, the dancers left the floor and the guests moved toward the foyer.
“Where will you put this?” MaryAnne asked before she left for the dressing room.
“In the front hall. I’ll have a display case made to keep it safe. Maybe I’ll get a plaque so everyone will know where it came from.” The two friends hugged. “Hurry and change. Let’s share a glass of wine,” she whispered to MaryAnne.
Alina walked over and stood silently before the tutu. Her shining eyes said it all. Madame Alex and Chelly watched the child’s expression then looked at each other. Both recognized the special awe that often emanates from children who are captured by ballet.
“What do you think?” Chelly asked Alina.
Alina turned to her mother and spoke solemnly. “Mommy, this is what I want to do.”
“Wow, Alina,” Galilani said in surprise. “You don’t know anything about ballet.”
“This is what I want to do,” the child repeated quietly. “Please Mommy?”
Turning to Chelly, Galilani asked, “Is it too late to register her?”
“Bring her Monday afternoon. Let me evaluate her before I place her in a class.”
Alina’s head bobbed up and down in excitement. Her smile was infectious.
***
Galilani watched her daughter’s enthusiasm. Something she saw here has generated a passion I’ve never seen before. I can’t let this go to waste. Taking Alina’s hand, she made her way into the front hall where people were milling about enjoying drinks and food. She spotted Bradford and Gerald and headed toward them.
Alina, bursting with excitement, announced: “Daddy, Uncle Gerald, I’m going to take ballet lessons from Miss Chelly. She said I could come Monday to begin.”
“That’s wonderful,” Bradford said.
“Good for you, Alina. I’m sure you will work hard and do very well,” Gerald added, hugging the child to him.
Galilani was happy but nervous. What if Chelly doesn’t think she will fit? “Let’s not get too excited yet. Miss Chelly said we will come on Monday and she will evaluate you.” Galilani tried to temper her daughter’s excitement but no one paid her any mind. Alina held her father and uncle in rapt attention.
