A Fool's Gold Christmas (Fool's Gold #9.5)(3)
She had one sister-in-law and two sisters-in-law to-be. Of the three of them, Charlie seemed the easiest to approach. She was blunt but kindhearted. So after a quick routine of stretching to overcome the stiffness of her still-healing leg, Evie got dressed and started out for the center of town.
Fool’s Gold was a small town nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada—on the California side. The residential areas boasted tidy lawns and well-kept houses while the downtown held nearly a half-dozen traffic lights, making it practically metropolitan. There were plenty of pumpkins by front doors and paper turkeys in windows. Orange, red and yellow leaves flew across the sidewalk. It had yet to snow at this elevation, but the temperatures were close to freezing at night, and the ski resorts higher up the mountain had opened the previous weekend.
The whole place was one happy small town postcard, Evie thought, shoving her hands into her coat pockets and longing to be somewhere else. Los Angeles would be nice. Warm and, hey, big enough that nobody knew her name—which was how she preferred things. She just wanted to live her life without getting involved with other people. Was that too much to ask?
A stupid question, she reminded herself. She was here now, and responsible for a holiday tradition. She would get it right because she knew what it was like to be disappointed, and there was no way she was doing that to her students.
She rounded a corner and walked up to the fire station in the center of town. The building was older, mostly brick, with giant garage doors that would open if there was an emergency.
Charlie was a firefighter. From what Evie had been able to piece together, Charlie drove one of the big trucks. She was competent, sarcastic and just a little intimidating. She was also a bit of a misfit, which made Evie more comfortable around her. In addition, Clay, Evie’s youngest brother, was crazy about her. Over-the-moon, can’t-stop-looking-at-her in love.
Clay had been married before, and Evie had adored his late wife. Now that she thought about it, Clay kind of had extraordinary taste when it came to women. After years of mourning his first wife, he’d stumbled into a relationship with Charlie, only to find himself giving his heart and everything else he had. It was kind of nice to see someone as perfect as Clay brought to his knees by an emotion.
Evie hesitated by the entrance leading into the fire station. She told herself to just open the door and walk in. Which she would. In a second. It was just…asking for help was not her favorite thing. She could easily list ninety-seven ways she would rather spend her time. Maybe more.
The door swung open unexpectedly, and Charlie Dixon stepped out. “Evie? Are you okay?”
Charlie was a little taller than Evie, and much bigger. The other woman was all broad shoulders and muscle. The latter no doubt necessary because of her job. Evie had spent her life in search of the perfect combination of being strong enough to dance and thin enough to look good in whatever costume her job required. Which meant being hungry every day of her life since her fourteenth birthday.
“Hey, Charlie,” Evie said and forced a smile. “Do you have a second?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
The fire station was warm and brightly lit. The big trucks gleamed, and holiday music played over a hidden sound system. Charlie led the way to a massive kitchen with seating for maybe fifteen or twenty, long counters and a six-burner, restaurant-style stove. A big pot of coffee sat by the window, and there was an open box of donuts on the table.
Charlie poured them each a mug of coffee and handed her one, then settled right next to the box of donuts and grabbed a maple bar. As Evie watched, she took a bite and chewed.
Just like that, Evie thought, both impressed and horrified. Depending on the size of the donut, the maple bar would be anywhere from two hundred and fifty calories to over five hundred. Evie had learned shortly after puberty, she was destined to be pear-shaped, with every extra ounce going to her hips, thighs and butt. While the medical community might want her to believe that pear-shaped was perfectly healthy, more than one costume director had pointed out no one wanted to watch a ballerina with a big ass and jiggly thighs.
Evie gripped her coffee mug with both hands, averted her gaze from the box of donuts, whose contents had started to quietly call her name, and stared at Charlie.
“I wondered if I could talk to you about The Dance of the Winter King. Do you know about the production?”
“Sure,” Charlie said, dropping half the donut onto a napkin and reaching for her coffee. “It happens every year on Christmas Eve. It’s kind of a big deal.” She smiled, her blue eyes bright with humor. “That’s right. You’re working for Miss Monica now. Nervous about the big show?”
“You have no idea.” Evie knew the situation was complicated even more by the fact that, while Miss Monica was in charge of the studio, the business had recently been purchased by Charlie’s mother. Evie had left the new owner a message the previous night, bringing her up to date, but had yet to hear from her.
“Miss Monica ran off yesterday.” Evie quickly explained about the older woman’s flight with her gentleman friend. “I’ve never seen the dance, and there aren’t very many notes on the production. Miss Monica mentioned many of the sets need to be refurbished, and I don’t even know where they’re kept. I have sixty students who expect to dance in front of their families in six weeks and no idea what I’m doing. Worse, there aren’t any videos of the production in the studio. If Miss Monica had any, they’re in her house, and she’s on her way to Italy.”