"Ugh you smell like a wet dog!" Meg complained as she pulled away from the embrace and wrinkled her nose. Christine laughed and rolled her eyes, sitting down at a small table.

Even when Christine had lived with the Giry's, this had always been the cafe they had frequented to hang out and drink sugary coffee drinks.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have asked to have a coffee date right after I get off of work," Christine raised an eyebrow in amusement. "What did you expect?"

Meg took a sip of her iced latte. "At least you took your smock off."

Christine fiddled with her straw to her frappuccino with a smile. "I don't really want to go around sporting my job outside of work."

"Fair enough," Meg laughed. "Oh hey, speaking of work. My show is coming up. You'll come right? It's on a Saturday."

Christine brightened. "Of course Meg! Why wouldn't I?"

Meg shrugged and took another sip. "Well, since you've abandoned me and all that, I wasn't sure what to expect."

Christine laughed incredulously. "Abandoned? All I did was move out."

"Exactly," Meg told her, wiping a fake tear from her eye and it made both girls fall into a fit of giggles.

When they composed themselves, Christine took a drink. "Well either way, I wouldn't miss my best friend in one of the most important performances of her life. Aren't the scouts from Julliard going to be there?"

Meg groaned and put her hand to her forehead, glancing painfully at her with the reminder. "Yes, I'm so nervous. It's my dream to go, of course, but I'm worried I'll mess up my footing and they'll immediately lose interest. All that hard work will be for nothing, not to mention how disappointed mom would be."

Christine placed a comforting hand on Meg's. "You can't think like that. You're the best dancer the Garnier Theater has to offer, Meg. Your mother made sure of that and I doubt she would be disappointed."

Meg squeezed Christine's fingers thankfully, smiling. "Thank you for your biased opinion. Sorelli is way better than me."

Christine released her hand and laughed, leaning back in her chair. "Sorelli's a professional French ballerina, Meg. In time you'd be just as good as her. Besides, you're always out in front during the ballets. You wouldn't be if you weren't good enough."

"Probably because my mom's good friends with the manager of the theater and she heads the ballerinas."

Christine shook her head. "I'm serious Meg. You have true talent. You have to recognize that."

Meg was exasperated. "Like your singing?"

Christine's whole body stiffened and she lowered her eyes, looking at her coffee with sudden deep interest. "That's different, Meg," she murmured uncomfortably.

Meg retracted and tried to placate the mood again. "I'm sorry, Chris. I shouldn't have brought it up. I felt cornered and said stupid stuff."

Christine exhaled a breath she didn't realize she had been holding and reached into her jeans pocket to pull out the small business card. She silently slid it across the table to her friend.

Meg looked down at it before delicately picking it up and taking a closer look. Christine watched her read it and then met her eyes. "Marlers? Isn't that the music company downtown?"

Christine nodded, rubbing her bare arms even though she wasn't cold. "My old choir teacher came into the salon and gave it to me. She... offered to give me singing lessons."

Meg seemed wary to say anything and was careful about her next words. "What do you think about it?"

Christine swallowed a lump and shrugged, feigning lack of interest. "I told her no at first... but she has always seen something in me that no one else has. I forgot what that felt like until I saw her again."

Meg slid the card back over but Christine didn't pick it back up and just stared down at it.

"You have a really good voice, Christine. I've always thought so."

Christine looked over at the window, remembering how it felt to sing and how his eyes would light up. Her heart clenched. "I can't Meg," she rasped, her hand going to her heart and clenching her fist over her lavender t-shirt, the metal of her father's wedding ring hard under her fingers.

"Oh, Christine. You don't have to but... remember how much you loved it. I only want you to be happy."

Christine tried to hold back the sudden flood of tears burning her eyes. It would do her no good to cry about it after all this time. "Things have changed."

Meg thankfully dropped it after that, seeming to sense that Christine was clamming up. Christine stuffed the card back into her pocket for later brooding.

Later that evening, Meg dropped her off. She thanked her for the fun afternoon and headed for the stairwell.

Without any warning, the door to A3 swung open and she jumped as a large brown dog came bounding up to her, backing her up against the railing.

"I'm so sorry!" A man's voice spoke and she glanced up from the over eager dog smelling her legs, to see a dark-skinned man going after his pet with large hands. "I didn't realize he'd just bolt out the door."

Christine laughed nervously and patted the sweet, if not hyper, dog on the head. "He probably smells dog on me. I work at a grooming salon," she told him as the man successfully snatched his dog and pulled him by the collar away from her.

"Oh really? Do you allow big brown goofballs? He badly needs a deshedding treatment."

Christine grinned at the way the dog struggled to get back to her from the man's hold on his collar. "Yes actually! They're our specialty. You should come by, I can get him all taken care of for the warm weather."

He smiled warmly at her, crinkles at his eyes. "I may take you up on that offer, if I can find time. I work odd hours. He spends most of his time with my sister. Maybe I can convince her to bring him."

Christine remembered what her landlord had said and figured that he was the security guard. "Well we're the big building with a sudsy dog on the window over on Jefferson if you find time."

"Thank you," he told her gratefully and he swung his dog back into the apartment and shut the door behind him. "You must be the one who moved upstairs. I'm sorry we haven't met. I work a lot," he told her and stuck out a hand. "I'm Joe."

She took it, finding him very friendly. "Christine. Nice to meet you."

"You as well. Have you met my neighbor yet?" He asked, glancing over at the other door, A1, as he put his hands on his hips.

She shook her head, following his gaze. "No, not yet. To be honest, I was starting to wonder if anyone lived downstairs at all."

He laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Well, you probably won't see much of me and you won't see him at all. I've lived here for about two years now and I've only seen him two times. Sometimes I wonder if he's actually a ghost. I've heard haunting piano music coming from his apartment late at night. He's… well, he's strange to say the least."

Christine noticed the uneasy look he had and wondered why. "Strange? How so?" The fact that a prison security guard had said someone was strange hung heavy in the air.

"If you ever do see him, you will understand." His dog began obsessively scratching at his door and Joe jumped. "Oh, I should go. Nice meeting you Christine!"

She put a hand up and watched in amusement as he struggled to get inside without letting his dog out. Finally, the door slammed shut and Christine curiously eyed A1 as if it would give her a glimpse of the ghost of a man who lived within and played haunting piano music.

oO0Oo

Christine had stared at the Marler's business card so much in the days following that she knew the number by heart. Ever since Mrs. Valerius had given it to her, the memories of choir, competitions, and concerts had overwhelmed her, even in sleep.

Singing had been such a big part of her life. When she was small, her father played his violin while she sang hymns in church every Sunday. Then, as she grew older, they'd perform at county fairs and events. Anywhere they could. Her whole childhood had been nothing but music and she had always sung for him.

Until he had left her, leaving a void and a hole in her soul, taking the music with him. She hadn't been able to sing a note for a whole year after he'd gone, but eventually she'd been coaxed out of her shell to sing show tunes and gaudy top 40 songs with Meg in the car. Mindless songs like that didn't mean anything.

This… this would mean something.

She had forever closed that part of her the day he had died. How could she just start singing again without him? It almost felt like a betrayal.

But dear god, deep down, she missed it. She missed the way music would fill her veins and set her free. How she could get lost in the notes and how they could make her feel.

But she was scared. So horribly scared.

A week after she'd been given the card, Christine took the time out and arranged a dinner out with Meg and her mother. Antoinette Giry was a strict woman with a kind face and had been the closest thing Christine had to a mother since she was a child.

As soon as she saw the woman, Christine hugged her tightly, relishing in the feel of just how warm her embraces were. "I miss you," she confessed into her ear softly, laughing nervously from her bubbling emotions.

Antoinette tutted, releasing her with amusement. "You say that now, but I remember how anxious you were to leave my house just a month ago."

Christine caught the teasing glint in her eyes and giggled, following her to the table to sit with Meg. "Okay, I admit that I do enjoy having a place of my own but you two act like I couldn't stand the sight of you."

Antoinette merely smiled and Meg quirked an eyebrow with a wry tease, "Oh, I could have sworn that was how it was."

Christine rolled her eyes. The waiter came and went, taking their drink orders. She leaned forward to give the older woman a curious smile. "How's the theater?"

Antoinette sighed heavily, as if tired all of a sudden. "It's been busy. The ballet has been taking up most of our time, especially with the known fact that talent scouts will be there. We've been working tirelessly to get the girls in top shape for the performance."

Meg shifted uneasily under Christine's glance in her direction. "Not to mention the interruptions by Carlotta."

"Carlotta?" Christine had heard her name briefly before but couldn't recall who she was.

"The primadonna of the theater," Antionette explained. "They are to begin rehearsing for their next production after the ballet and she's been insisting on using the stage before her time. It's been a constant battle this past week."

"I'm sure it'll be worth the effort. I can't wait to see it," Christine told them confidently.

"What about you, sweetheart? How's the salon?"

Christine smiled thankfully at the waiter as he sat a glass of iced tea down in front of her. "It's busy too. Everyone's expecting summer cuts because of the warmer weather. You should see the bruises I have on my legs," she laughed at the memory of shaving her legs that morning and spotting the blue spots dotting her legs.

Antoinette wrinkled her nose with disapproval and Meg leaned forward on an elbow, holding a glass of coke with her other hand. "Someone might think you're being abused," she teased and Christine gave her a look.

"Your sense of humor is concerning."

Meg just stuck her tongue out. "Well if I go off to Julliard in the next few months, you'll miss it."

Christine laughed and admitted that it was definitely true, leaving a sense of foreboding at the idea that her lifelong friend and sister could be leaving her come autumn.

As they enjoyed their meal, chatting lightly to catch up, Antoinette brought up the dreaded topic that had plagued Christine for days. She had to suppress a groan.

"Meg told me that you ran into your old choir teacher and she offered to give you lessons," she said conversationally over her half eaten salad, giving her a glance. "Have you given it any thought?"

Christine swallowed her bite of pasta and dropped her fork to the plate with a heavy hand, no longer feeling hungry. "Oh, um, yes I have."

Understatement. It was always on her mind lately.

"And?"

Meg pressed her lips together and looked down at her own salad guiltily.

Christine bit her cheek. "I honestly have no idea. Of course I miss singing, but... things have changed, you know?"

Antoinette placed her fork down and looked at her kindly. "That is precisely why you should think about singing again. Things have changed. You're not a little girl anymore, you have a job that you love, and you've even moved out on your own. I am incredibly proud of you and I know he would be too. I just think that... perhaps you should consider this, Christine. Singing was always your dream, I'd hate to see you throw it away."

Christine looked down at her plate. Antoinette was always supportive of anything Christine had done. When she'd needed time, she'd given it to her. When she had quit college, it had been fine. When she'd wanted to pull her weight around the house, she'd drive her around to apply for jobs. She had always been the best person in her corner for the past four years and she knew that Antionette wanted her to do what made her happy, and she knew that singing had once made Christine very happy.

Meg reached over and squeezed her hand comfortingly. "Chris, you can always quit if you don't like it. No one will force you to continue."

She hesitated, still unsure, but knew they were right. She'd been trying so hard to make a place for herself in the world but the one thing that was inherently missing was music.

She cleared her throat and looked up at the two women that she called family, that she owed her life to. "If it doesn't work out, no harm done right?"

Antoinette smiled, her eyes crinkling at the sides, obviously pleased Christine was considering. "No harm done," she assured.

Christine squared her shoulders, finally coming to her decision, despite the pit in her stomach. "Then it's settled. I'll take singing lessons."

Later that night, alone in her apartment, Christine walked to her closet and brought down the small memento box on the top shelf, avoiding the old violin case at her feet, her heart tight. She knelt on her knees with it and slowly opened the box, almost afraid of the contents and how they'd make her feel. She hadn't touched it since packing it all up years ago.

Inside, she found pictures of herself and friends in school, along with her glasses she'd worn in elementary school, and a few folded up pieces of paper. One was a score sheet from her last solo competition in high school. She'd received a one score, the highest you could get. Her nose burned as she remembered how he'd taken her out for ice cream afterwards, telling her how proud he was of her.

It was the last time he'd seen her sing publicly. He had never missed a performance in her life. The fact that he hadn't seen her walk across the graduation stage had always killed her inside. He had been so excited about it...

Christine willed the thoughts away and unfolded another one. It was another scorecard, one from her Junior year. She'd received a two. She had found out he was sick that year. It had been difficult to focus on anything.

At the bottom was two small wooden plaques. One had "outstanding choir member of the year" on it and the other had "honors band". Both meant a lot to her.

It wasn't till she had put them down on her knees that she realized there were a couple more things in the box.

Her throat closed and she held back a choked sob.

There he was. A small picture of him with his arm around her shoulders, smiling with her at the camera. His brown eyes were so warm and inviting, his smile always turned up with amusement. She pressed her knuckles to her teeth and tried not to let the smack of loss overwhelm her all over again.

She slid her thumb over his face with a broken cry, her heart never the same as her other hand clutched her father's wedding ring that was forever chained to her heart. "Oh dad... Why did you have to leave me?"