Dancing in Lake Mistletoe (Lake Mistletoe #4)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mindi

S ela, Lydia, and I get in line for a sleigh ride around the lake with the girls while Dutch and Isaac help Keller and Bob. Josie and Cobie are bouncing with excitement. I glance around the square at the families milling around and the ginormous tree. It’s really something to behold. Granted, New York City at Christmas is nothing to sneeze at. The Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree, Saks Fifth Avenue windows, ice-skating in Central Park, and the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular are legendary, but this? This is magical. These people live this way year-round. Neighbor helping neighbor. Eating together. Working together. Loving each other. I’ve lived in Manhattan—an island with more than 1.6 million residents—for six years, and I only know a handful of people, and only three of those do I consider close friends.

I’ve made deeper connections in the past six weeks.

“Mindi.”

I turn at the sound of my name to find Soma. She’s standing in line a few feet back with another woman.

I look down at Josie. “I’ll be right back, okay? Stay with Nana and Sela.”

I walk back to greet my director. “Hi, Soma.”

“Hi, Mindi. This is my wife, Tasha,” she says, introducing us. “Mindi is one of my principal dancers.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say. “And I’m glad you guys were able to make it out to join us tonight.”

Soma gives me a quizzical look. “Yeah, I’m happy we came too.”

“I’ll reserve my judgment until after this ride,” Tasha interjects.

Soma rolls her eyes. “She’s not a fan of horses.”

“Oh, you’ll love Prancer and Holly. They’re very docile,” I assure her.

“You know the horses by name?” Soma asks.

“Oh, yeah, we’re old friends.”

She considers me thoughtfully. “You know, Mindi, if you consider leaving ABT, there’s a soloist position with your name on it at Ballet Idaho.”

I’m taken aback by her comment. “What?”

“I see something special in you. And I know our company isn’t considered as prestigious, but we’re growing, and we have a lot of talented dancers. There’s a lot we can offer someone like you. An intimate work environment. Feature roles. Better cost of living. And ample opportunities for artist growth.”

I worked so hard to get into ABT. It was my single goal while in ballet school. I’ve never really considered anywhere else.

“I don’t know what to say,” I state honestly.

She reaches out and pats my hand. “Just think about it.”

“I will.”

“Good. Now, go enjoy the rest of your night off. It’s back to the grind tomorrow,” she commands.

I nod and start to walk back to the girls before turning back. “Thank you, Soma.”

She smiles and nods.

I return to Sela and Lydia, who have almost reached the head of the line.

“Who was that?” Sela asks.

“My artist director and her wife,” I say. Still stunned by the conversation.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” I answer, shaking my head. I look down at the girls. “Are you two ready? I think we’re next.”

Josie grasps my hand. “Ready!”

I help Josie up into the sleigh, and she takes a seat next to Lydia. Sela and Cobie are on the opposite bench.

“Where are you going to sit, Mindi?” Josie asks.

“We can scooch over,” Lydia says.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. I’ll just sit up front,” I say. “If that’s allowed.” I look at the gentleman who is controlling the line.

“Sure. Old Nick won’t mind.”

He takes my hand as I step up onto the sleigh and settle in beside the driver.

With a click of his tongue, the horses start a slow trot toward the trail that circles the lake. The snow crunches beneath the sleigh, a sound that matches the steady rhythm of the horses’ hooves. I sit back against the red leather seat, tucked under a knit blanket, as we glide along the edge of Lake Mistletoe. The air is sharp and cold, biting at my cheeks, but it’s worth it for the view and for the giggles drifting up from the seats behind me.

“Comfortable, miss?” the driver’s voice rumbles, low and warm.

I turn to look at him, my curiosity hard to contain. He’s a sight to behold, almost like he stepped out of a storybook. His white beard cascades down his chest in a thick, curling mass, and his belly—a proper round belly—is tucked into faded black slacks, held up by suspenders that seem to groan a little under the weight. A red-and-black newsboy cap is pulled low over his eyes.

“Yes, thank you,” I say, tugging a blanket from the back of the seat around me. “It’s beautiful out here.”

He grunts in agreement, his hands steady on the reins. “Lake Mistletoe has a way of working magic on folks,” he says, his voice low for only me to hear. “Seems to bring people just what they need.”

I smile, unsure if he means the lake or the sleigh ride itself. “I could use a little magic,” I admit, letting the words slip out before I can second-guess them.

He nods. “Magic comes in all shapes and sizes. The problem is, most people don’t recognize it, even when it’s staring ’em right in the face.” He gives the reins a little flick, guiding the horses around a bend, where tall pines cast dark shadows on the snow.

The sleigh jostles slightly as we hit a bump, and I reach for the edge of the seat. I glance back at Josie, and she’s unfazed. Then, my eyes come back to our driver. There’s something about him that’s both comforting and just a bit unsettling, as if he knows things he shouldn’t. His eyes twinkle as he looks out over the lake, his mouth curving into a thoughtful smile.

“You look like someone who’s got a lot on her mind,” he observes.

My cheeks heat up, though I doubt he can see it in the cold night air. “I suppose you could say that. I’ve … got some big decisions to make.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Big decisions, eh? Isn’t it funny how those always come around this time of year?”

I bite my lip, watching as the horses’ breath puffs out in soft white clouds. “I’m trying to make the right choice, but … I don’t know … it’s like I can’t see the whole picture.”

The driver nods again, as if he’s heard the same story a hundred times. “Truth is, sometimes, seeing the whole picture’s not what you need,” he says, his voice low. “Sometimes, it’s the heart that’s got the answer, even if the head can’t make heads or tails of it.”

I frown, the words sinking into me like stones in water. “But what if my heart … what if it’s confused too?”

He chuckles a warm sound that floats on the cold air. “Oh, hearts are rarely confused, Miss Mindi. They might be scared, or stubborn, or just plain tired. But lost? Nah. Hearts know the way—they always do. Just gotta be willing to listen.”

I wrap my hands tighter around the edges of the blanket, feeling the weight of his words. “How do you know my name?”

“You told me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Did I?

He just shrugs as his kind eyes come to mine. “Some advice: I’ve been around a long time. Long enough to see folks get tangled up in their own heads. You’d be amazed how many people I’ve taken round this lake, just to watch ’em realize what’s been there all along.”

“What’s that?”

“Why, the answer, of course.” He chuckles, his eyes crinkling under his cap. “What is it that you want?”

Dutch, I think but do not say.

“Ah, there it is, and now, you know,” he says.

“People don’t always get what they want when they want it,” I tell him.

“True, but it is Christmastime. And you’re in Lake Mistletoe. Rumor has it, a Christmas wish can stir the magic of the lake this time of year.”

“Right,” I say, my voice dripping with incredulity.

He reaches up and catches a snowflake and extends his finger to me. “Make a wish and see?”

I glance from his face to the snowflake.

“Can’t hurt,” he presses.

Closing my eyes, I make a silent wish and blow. When I open them again, he winks at me.

We ride in silence for a while after that. The only sounds are the steady clop of the horses and the whisper of the sleigh over the snow. And as I look out over the lake, I realize that maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

Lake Mistletoe glistens under the stars, and I feel a warmth growing inside me, a small flicker of something I haven’t felt in a long time.

“Miss Mindi?”

“Yes.”

“The moment you start to wonder if you deserve better … in a friendship … in a relationship … or in your career? You do,” he says as we come to a stop.

Stunned by his words, I look around and realize we’re back at the beginning. The gentleman from before steps forward to help me down to where Lydia, Sela, and the girls are already waiting. I take his hand and look back at our driver.

“Thank you, Nick,” I whisper.

“You’re very welcome.”