Finding Elizabeth (2 page)

“So,” Dave yawned. “Was it good?”

“You missed … I can’t explain what you missed. If there’s a God, then that woman, that dancer, is the Goddess.”

“Can I use that?” Dave asked, pulling out his pen and notepad. “You remember what the dance was called?” He looked up from writing stuff down, trying for a painful expression, difficult with a face like his, always on the edge of mischief. “Something like the burning bird, wasn’t it?”

“You’re a Neanderthal,” Jack teased. “Give me that.” He plucked the apricot rose boutonnière from Dave’s lapel, and unpinned his own. “Turn around.” Dave eyed him sceptically. “Shut up and do it,” Jack said and pulled a business card from his wallet. He turned it over and wrote a message of appreciation, then pinned the roses to the card and scanned the foyer for an official-looking person.

“That’s it, I’ve danced my last pirouette—almost,” Katherine muttered in her dressing room. She untied the ribbons on her ballet shoes, kicked them aside and frowned at her red aching feet.

“Shit—it’s over!” Of course she had doubts, but it was simply nerves. Change was good, refreshing.
Nothing to worry about
. Knowing she was now free to do as she pleased brought a smile to Katherine’s face. A sense of peace eased through her body.

She wriggled her bottom, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her tights and peeled them off. She moaned with relief and pleasure and slumped back in her chair, legs splayed. A blur of scarlet tutu sparkling with sequins stood vertical in front of her face. She pushed it down. No more tutus and no more sore feet. Happy, she swung around and propped her elbows on the dressing table strewn with stage make-up, brushes and discarded tissues, and rested her chin in the palms of her hands. She peered at her make-up mirror. The surrounding globes gave off a mellow glow, reflecting a peaches-and-cream complexion and blue eyes sparkling with vitality. But it lied. Her body strained, her feet were in pain.

So what? I have all the time in the world to recover. Don’t have to pack, catch a plane or watch what I eat
. A stack of pancakes with maple syrup and ice cream was on her menu the moment she hit Spruce Valley.

Head to one side, Katherine searched for elusive bobby-pins. Carefully she unfastened the delicate headdress of exotic beads and red feathers that plumed out like fire against her ebony hair. She pulled off the hairnet that held her bun in tight, and let her glossy hair tumble down over her shoulders.

Behind her, the dressing-room door creaked open. With it came a cacophony of sounds, people calling out, and feet clomping along the old timber hallway. A draft of cold air floated in and chilled her back.

“Are you decent, Katy?” Her uncle, and ballet company director, Pierre Garneau asked.

“Yes, come on in.” Katherine took a calming breath and smiled.

Pierre, tall and debonair, walked in, eyes glistening with tears. He was impeccably dressed as always, in his black tuxedo, stiff collar, white shirt and pearl-grey silk bow-tie. A Celtic silver clip held his shoulder-length grey hair back in a neat ponytail. He looked much younger than sixty-two. Cradled in his arms were two massive bouquets—one an assortment of flowers wrapped in clear cellophane, the usual formality from theatre management, the other a massive bouquet of yellow roses.

“Katy, my sweet, what a performance. Simply stunning,” Pierre gushed.

“Thank you.” Katherine’s heart leapt. “It’s finally over. I’m relieved.”

In an instant, Pierre’s smile was gone. “You’ve been my outstanding principal dancer. You’ve given the company everything. And now it’s your turn to have a life.”

“Hey, I had one … ballet.” Katherine struggled to her feet and gave her uncle a tight hug. “Thank you. My feet and my knees thank you.” She leaned back and smiled.

“It breaks my heart.” Pierre’s voice trembled. “But you know what’s best for your body.”

On tiptoes, Katherine kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck. They held each other tight, their way of saying goodbye to a brilliant career.

Pierre swiped away his tears. “Your toes and knees cracked just now. You are indeed a noisy old lady,” he quipped.

Laughter filled the small dressing room. “They did not.” She thumped him playfully. “Thirty-two is not old! I’m not creaky.”

Pierre arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Okay,” he conceded, handing her a tissue. “You’re certainly not that old. Have they sent your exam results yet?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Pierre shook his head. “I thought Mum told you. Aw, sorry. Didn’t mean to keep you out of the loop. I passed with distinctions. I’m the new Injury Prevention and Rehabilitation guru at Spruce Valley Lodge for senior citizens.” Katherine grinned. “I’m ready to help the elderly regain their … whatever it is they think they’ve lost.”

“They haven’t lost it, they just can’t remember where they left it.”

Despite herself, Katherine laughed, then swung around and thumped his arm.

“Ouch … Just don’t put them in a tutu and
pointe
.” Pierre cringed.

“
Pointe
—probably not. Tutus—definitely. And bathers.”

Pierre groaned. “The elderly don’t know how lucky they are to have you.”

Katherine dabbed her face and ducked behind a floral screen to wriggle out of her tutu. “We knew hyperextension would get me in the end.” She slipped into a green, silk robe before sitting back at her dressing table.

Her gaze shifted to her uncle’s image reflected in the mirror. The jokes were gone. Pierre’s soft brown eyes were full of concern. He had such a tight grip on the bouquets that the cellophane squeaked and trembled with reflected light. “I wished the swimming had helped. Henry always said—”

“I know what Dad used to say, and I will keep swimming,” Katherine said. “Besides, I’ll be expected to give classes at the Lodge.”

Pierre nodded and moved to stand behind her. “We’ll miss you terribly. The company will be fine—you know that too, don’t you?”

“Of course. Bianca is perfectly ready to take over. Don’t forget I want to finish my career where it started. I’ll dance at the charity performance in Spruce Valley. My way of saying goodbye and thank you.”

“Wonderful, and we’ll have a big party afterwards at the Banff Springs Hotel.”

“You cheapskate.” Katherine threw a powder puff at him. “You have a party there every year.”

Pierre deflected the missile with a bouquet. A few colourful petals floated to the floor. “Yes, but I will make this one extra special.”

“So you should. You’d better put the flowers down before there’s nothing left.”

“Anyway, before I forget, someone dropped these off at reception.” He pulled two apricot roses pinned to a business card from his breast pocket, and handed them to her.

“How sweet.” Katherine read the card. “‘I have no idea what the dancing was about, but I have to say, you moved me. Kind regards, Jack.’ A convert. Excellent.”

The yellow roses were over-the-top stunning; nevertheless, after all these years a bouquet like that had become passé. Katherine rummaged through the stems for the card. “Found it.” She frowned, staring at the handwriting. “Eric! What a complete arse.” She ripped the card up. “Give these flowers to anyone you like, but please don’t tell them who they’re from, it’ll only put them off.”

“Eric is still a problem?” Pierre puffed out his chest. “He and his mother are wonderful patrons, but his behaviour has gone
too
far. Want
moi
to sort him out?”

Katherine pulled a face. “Sure, I can just see you having a tussle with Eric. He’d cry foul or do something equally stupid and sue you. I don’t want family or friends to get involved in this mess.”

“But that’s what family does—look out for each other,” Pierre frowned.

“Yes, and we do. But I think the best approach is to ignore Eric. He’ll get bored and find someone who’ll fawn all over him.” She sniffed the boutonnière of apricot roses and, thanks to the sweet musky scent, her temper vanished. “I’ll keep these. They make me smile.” She lay them on the dressing table, dug her fingers into a pot of cleanser and slapped a glob onto her cheeks. She smeared it over her face, effectively putting an end to conversation about quitting ballet, parents and an obsessed, irrational fool.

Pierre put his arm around her shoulder, and kissed the top of her head. “I’d better go talk to the press.” He straightened and slowly turned. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous. How can anyone resist such a handsome man?”

Pierre waved his hand theatrically and minced. “Well, you do have to wonder,” he said with wry humour. “But love still eludes me.”

“You’re such a drama queen, Uncle,” she laughed.

He gave her a wink, smiled and left the room.

Katherine wiped away the layers of stage make-up with a handful of tissues. Her thoughts turned to her last performance at the Spruce Valley town hall and the very end of her career. She longed for it, yet the thought of leaving was scary. Her ballet routine of practice, rehearsals and proper diet had been her life. At least she didn’t feel utterly adrift; she had plans. Passing her physiotherapist’s and care for the elderly exams had made it possible.

Five flights of stairs to her loft apartment in Calgary had never been an issue for Katherine until tonight. Hand on the newel post she looked up, and the Calgary Tower came to mind. After a long night celebrating Christmas holidays, she believed the best way to tackle these stairs was to think of something else and go for it. She hurried up the first flight, daydreaming about sex with a passing stranger on a hot beach. Stranger? No way. Sex with Gerard Butler on a hot beach, in the surf and under a tropical downpour. She giggled quietly. Daydreaming was safe and, she decided, a delicious pastime.

Okay
, she smiled to herself,
I didn’t collapse of exhaustion and I’m on the landing
.

A strip of light glowed from under the door. That was odd. She never forgot to turn off her lights. Once inside, she hung her hat and coat on a brass hook in the entry hall, and kicked off her shoes. Clutching the boutonnière and her purse, she padded across the parquetry floor to her living room.

“Hello, Katarina.” An arrogant voice shattered her tropical daydreams.

“Eric!” Katherine exclaimed angrily. “What the hell are you doing in here? And how the hell did you get in?! Are you insane? Get out! Right now!” She thrust her arm out, pointing at the door.

“That’s not very civil,” Eric smirked, head to one side, lounging on her leather sofa as if he owned it—owned her. The thought made her shudder. The lamp on a side table nearest him was on. Its warm glow cast sharp shadows across his angular features. His deep-set, weasel eyes glinted with bravado, but this display was a sham. Surely others saw that too.

His whiney voice grated on her nerves as he said, “Mother is so pleased I’m seeing a principal ballet dancer. I’ve told our friends all about our plans. Gosh, they were so surprised—why hadn’t you told them about us, Katarina?”

“Don’t be an idiot. Stop stalking me. There is no us—and don’t call me that!”

Eric downed the last of his drink and raised his glass. “Join me.”

Katherine ignored him. “The caretaker would
not
have let you in. Get—the—hell—out!” She enunciated clearly so the twit wouldn’t misinterpret.

His attempt at a suave grin merely made him look a sloppy fool. Katherine dumped her purse and boutonnière on the coffee table, wanting her hands free just in case she needed to slap him.

Eric’s sleazy grin churned her stomach. With an index finger, he raised a chain dangling with keys to the downstairs security door, and her front door.

“Where did you get those keys?” she hissed.

“You gave them to me. They’re mine—remember?” His eyes darted to the table. “Hey! Where are the yellow roses I bought you?” He pouted like a petulant child.

“I thought they were so lovely I had to share them with everyone.” Her tone was sarcastic.

Eric swiped the bourbon bottle from the side table. With effort, he pushed himself off the sofa. Katherine squared her shoulders, daring him to get close enough so she could smack him around a little.

“We have plans—big plans, remember?” He crossed the room, but stopped just beyond arm’s length.
Pity
, thought Katherine.

The stench of bourbon was repulsive. “You stink! Where on earth do you get the notion that I’m the least bit interested? Just because you come backstage, unannounced, with a token,” she took a step closer and thumped his shoulder hard. “Just because we’ve had coffee, twice.” She thumped him again. “I barely know you.” Another thump and Eric’s expression changed to one of disbelief. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. In a flash, his arrogance returned. Katherine pressed on. “As for your plans—tell someone who cares, because I don’t!” She turned her back on him and, with a creepy feeling up her spine, strode to the front door, opened it and waited with her hand out. “I never gave you a set of keys. Give them to me and get the hell out of my apartment.”

Eric grinned. “I have your attention now, don’t I?” He leaned in for a kiss.

“Touch me and you die,” Katherine threatened, her voice deep, her eyes narrow, menacing. “And here’s another thought. If I scream fire! doors will open across the landing and all the way down to the ground floor. You don’t want that, do you?” His eyes became wary and his laugh had lost its arrogant edge. “I didn’t think so.”

“You need me. You’ll come around and I’ll keep these for when you do.” He tossed her keys in the air.

Katherine made a grab—and caught them. Eric hadn’t anticipated her swift reaction. His lips twitched.

“No one else will want you. I’ll make sure of it,” he said.

“Do
not
threaten me, you ignorant jerk.” Katherine shoved him out and slammed the door. She rammed the safety chain and bolt in place. Tomorrow, she would get the caretaker to change her locks, the sooner the better. Surely he’d have time; Christmas was still two weeks away. She rang the police, who took all the details and asked her to come by in the morning to make a signed statement. The officer suggested it would be wise to stay with a trusted friend. Katherine decided that unless Eric had another set of keys there was no way he could get into her apartment. This was getting scary. Never mind the bad publicity. She would have to get a restraining order out on him. Meanwhile, for her own peace of mind she would leave first thing in the morning. Her stay in the family cabin would start earlier than planned, that was all.