Evolving Dreams (New Beginnings Series) (23 page)

Tobi stood up to lean against the counter next to Meg. “I don’t know, hon. If it is the reason, why wouldn’t he go ahead and continue to see you until you had to leave? He could at least have spent yesterday with you.”

“Like I said, things got really heated the night before and it could have easily gotten out of hand. Why would he put himself through that? Then when the training exercise trip came up, he jumped at it and thought this was the best time to just shut us down.” She bit her lip again. “I really think this is it . . . why he ended it.” She laid her hands against her burning cheeks. “I’m so relieved I never told him I love him.”

“Oh, honey!” Tobi wrapped her arms around Meg and cursed Trace in her head. She rocked Meg back and forth for a while as Meg started to softly cry again. She whispered, “If he didn’t know what he had in you, Meg, and wasn’t willing to work for it . . . whatever the reason . . . he doesn’t deserve you.”

Meg pulled back and wiped the tears from her face. “Thanks, Tobi. I truly don’t know what I’d do without you.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to go get ready for work. At least I have a job today . . . and for the rest of the week.”

“Atta girl!”

As Meg went around the corner she shot back, “Call Sonny and apologize, Tobi. This isn’t his fault. And while you’re at it, ask
him
out for a hot date!”

Tobi called out, “I just might do that!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Meg made it through Monday without breaking down. The students and her friends on the faculty kept her distracted. When she went to bed that night and the lights went out, it hit her again, though. She finally drifted off and got some sleep.

Tuesday started much the way Monday had, with Q&A sessions planned and a little time cleaning out her studio. Her heart wasn’t in that, and she was trying to talk herself out of waiting ‘til the last couple of days to get it done. She wasn’t usually a procrastinator, but then she wasn’t usually this out of sorts, either.

Around three o’clock that afternoon Marcy’s assistant, Cheryl, called on the intercom, “Miss Conlan? Meg? Are you there?”

Meg hurried over and pressed the answer button on the panel, “I’m here!”

“Oh! Hi, Meg, it’s Cheryl from the Director’s Office. Ms Carrington would like to see you in her office. Are you free? What’s a good time for you?”

Meg glanced around at all of the stuff she needed to pack. “I’m free now, if that works for Marcy.” She decided she didn’t have the energy for packing right now anyway.

“Sure. I’ll let her know you’re on your way down. Thanks!”

She grabbed a sweatshirt hanging from the studio’s doorknob on her way out and pulled it on over her spaghetti-strapped dance top. She zipped it up as she hurried down the hallway, enjoying the sounds of instructors counting off steps and the squeak of bare feet dancing and sliding over the hardwood floors as she passed studios on her way to the administrative offices. She bounced through the door to Marcy’s outer office and stopped at Cheryl’s desk, ponytail
swinging.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” she winked at Cheryl.

Cheryl laughed. “Something’s going on, but you’re not in trouble. You can go on in. She’s expecting you.”

Meg thanked her and tapped on Marcy’s door as she entered. Marcy looked up from her computer screen. “Oh, good . . . Meg . . . come on in.” She gestured to the seat in front of her desk and Meg sat down. “Everything going okay?”

“A bit of a roller coaster, but things are going along fine. Thanks.”

“Roller coaster? Any problems?” Marcy looked concerned.

Meg waved her hand. “No, nothing to be concerned about. Things here at the Institute are great.”

Marcy sighed, “That’s a relief. I have a proposition to make, but first I’d like to ask about your plans. Have you got anything lined up yet?”

“To be perfectly honest, Marcy, I haven’t really even started making contacts yet. I wanted to finish out this week with you first. I’ll probably go visit family for a while. My sister is expecting her second baby soon and I’d like to spend some time there. I figured I could use that as my base of operations as I try to contact some people I’ve worked with in the past and, hopefully, get some gigs lined up.” She paused and asked, “Would you mind if I used you as a reference in the future?”

“Of course not. I’d be happy to speak on your behalf. I can’t imagine you’d need references, though. Your reputation is spotless.”

“Well, you never know. I don’t know if I’ll take as a solo dancer. Sean brought a lot to the table and it might take a little more effort on my part to get through some of the doors we were able to get through as a team. This is unchartered water for me.”

“So you’re really set on continuing as a performer, then?” Marcy asked pointedly.

“It’s really all I know. I don’t know what else would be out there for me.”

“I’m going to be upfront with you, Meg. I know you can do whatever you set your mind on, and if that’s as a solo artist, I think you could fill that niche. I have an offer for you, though. It’s a different road and I don’t know if you’d be interested in going that direction or not.” Marcy paused to take a breath. “Estelle came in yesterday to inform me that she and her husband are expecting a baby late next spring. She’s stepping down as head of the contemporary dance department here at SDDI.”

“That’s a shame! She’ll be back, won’t she?” Meg asked.

“No, she doesn’t plan on returning. She’s decided that she’s waited so long to start a family that she’s ready to retire from dance and throw herself wholeheartedly into this new adventure. She will definitely be missed, though.”

“Of course she will. She’s great!” Meg looked a little confused.

Marcy smiled. “I’m offering her position to you, Meg.”

Meg was stunned. “Surely you want to advance someone who’s already with the Institute into that position. Wouldn’t that be better than bringing in someone new?”

“You know how things are set up here, Meg. We have one full-time instructor who heads each department, then two—or sometimes three—part-time instructors to fill in the gaps. We round that team out with several teacher’s assistants who are chosen by the department head and then approved by administration.” Marcy continued, “All of our part-time instructors hold down other jobs . . . either as teachers at other schools, or performers. A lot of them travel back and forth to LA to audition and perform in shows up there. Some of our full-time teachers take some of those opportunities during semester breaks, as well. As long as it doesn’t interfere with their duties here, we don’t have a problem with that. We do ask that they apply for approval from administration, though, to cut back on any conflicts with the Institute’s schedules.”

Meg shook her head in disbelief. “You’re really asking me to stay and teach here? I’d think you’d want a real teacher. I don’t have any experience teaching.”

Marcy started laughing—hard. Meg had never seen her really cut loose and laugh that way before. She was always so elegant and . . . haughty almost. After she got hold of herself she said, “Meg! What do you think you’ve been doing here for almost six weeks?”

Meg just sat for a few moments blinking at her. “Well . . . teaching . . . But that’s not really
teaching
teaching. You know, with grades and assessments and
procedures
and stuff. I don’t know anything about
academics
, I guess you call it.”

“You went to college. You’ve seen it from the other side. You’ve been here for six weeks and I know you’ve picked something up from that.” She looked seriously into Meg’s eyes. “I don’t want you to turn this down because you think you can’t handle it. I know you can. If you turn it down because you don’t want to stop performing, that ‘s different. But I want you to understand you can do both if you decide to sign on with us. It’s not the same as being out there performing all over the world, of course, and I won’t try to lead you to believe it is. But you can have a bit of both worlds.”

“This is coming out of the blue. I just don’t know what to say.”

Marcy slid a folder across the desk toward Meg and flipped it open. “Take a few days—a week if you need it—to think this over. I want you to take this with you.” She started shuffling through the pages. “Here is a list of our department heads with their phone numbers. I think you know all of them . . . a few of them you know very well. Call and speak to as many as you like. You can get a feel for the job by asking them any questions that come to mind. This is the contract. Go over it with a fine-toothed comb. You can show it to your attorney if you like.” She closed the folder. “There’s also a school calendar starting with next semester, and the curriculum for the contemporary dance department. You’ll also find a document with the salary offer enclosed. Do you have any questions?”

Meg took the folder from her and hugged it to her chest, shaking her head. “I can’t think of any off the top of my head.”

“I don’t want to bulldoze you, Meg, but I’m hoping against hope you’ll take this job. You’ve bonded so well with the students
and
the faculty. I’d really appreciate it if you’d give it some serious thought.” Marcy almost pleaded.

“Of course, I’ll consider it. I’m just kind of shell shocked.” Meg admitted.

They both stood up and started toward the door. Marcy opened it and said quietly, “You wouldn’t be starting until the next semester—mid-January. You would be expected to be here a week before classes begin. That gives you plenty of time to visit your family, get settled and to do whatever you’d like. Maybe get a couple of performances in. I would appreciate if you wouldn’t mention this to any of the students or TAs. We won’t announce that Estelle is leaving until we have her position filled—hopefully by you. Sometimes that kind of uncertainty leaves the students unbalanced and we don’t want our contemporary dance majors worried and tempted to abandon ship if they don’t know what is happening with their department.”

“I understand,” Meg replied. She waved the folder at Marcy. “Well . . . I guess I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

She walked in a daze back to her studio and started reading the curriculum from the folder. When she heard a small tap at the door, she called out, “Come in.” She stuffed the paper back into the folder to hide it from whoever was entering, feeling a bit like a spy.

Estelle poked her head around the door. “Hi, Meg. It’s just me.” She came the rest of the way into the room and closed the door behind her.

Meg jumped to her feet and rushed over to her. “I hear congratulations are in order,” she exclaimed, hugging her.

Estelle laughed delightedly. “Thanks! That answers my question. I guess you’ve talked to Marcy, huh?”

“Yes. My head is spinning. I can’t believe she’s offering me your job. I can’t imagine I can fill your shoes.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not a matter of filling
my
shoes. Do what
you
do so well. Relate with the kids and teach them to be artists.” She walked over to sit on a stool in the corner. “Meg, I don’t want to pressure you, but I hope you decide to take the job. I want to let you know you can call me anytime with any questions you may have—both before you start and afterwards. I’m happy to mentor you through the transition as long as you need me.”

“I appreciate that, Estelle. Thanks! Well . . . I guess I have a lot of thinking to do.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

On the drive home that
evening all Meg could think was, “
I wish I could call and hash this out with Trace . . . I wonder what he would think . . . I bet Trace would have some really good advice right about now . . .”
But she couldn’t call him, because he wasn’t in her life anymore.

Over dinner that night she and Tobi discussed everything about the job and all of Meg’s insecurities about changing her life so drastically. To no one’s surprise, Tobi was a little biased about what Meg should do.

As she lay in bed that night, she wondered if Trace would have let her go if he knew she might be staying in San Diego. Maybe he would’ve fought harder for them. But on the other hand, if he knew there was a chance she
would
be staying, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten involved with her at all. Would’ve . . . could’ve . . . should’ve . . . Eventually she shut her brain down and got to sleep.

Her mind continued to whirl on Wednesday. She was emotionally exhausted from all the well-meaning advice she was getting from the other faculty members. They may as well have replaced the door to her studio with a revolving
one, there was so much traffic through it. She finally told Marcy she was leaving mid-afternoon so she could have some peace and quiet to think things through. Marcy had apologized for the full-court press the faculty was giving her, and after Meg left had stopped in to ask them all to please back off—they didn’t want to scare her off.

Meg found a beachfront park between the Institute and Tobi’s place. She stopped there and found a private bench. She did what
all little girls do when they feel a little lost—she called her mother. They talked over the job offer . . . laid out all of the pros and cons they could think of. They also talked about Trace. He was one of the cons. Would Meg be tempted to try to rekindle things with him? Since she didn’t know the exact reason he had walked away, she couldn’t really say. Her pride, of course, said “no way.”