After Happily Ever Afte- Astrid Ohletz Page 0,1

in every splash and flourish of the production’s design. Familiar faces with artfully stony expressions beamed down at Victoria from every direction.

And there, with pride of place, was Anna.

Had she been in company Victoria might have hidden it better, but being alone gave her the luxury of fully reacting to the sight. She was far from the only one; every patron who entered stopped short at the sight of the woman Victoria loved, pictured in all her glory.

Not for Irina’s company—and oh, how strange that still sounded, even in Victoria’s head—the traditional feathers and flounces for Odette’s costume. For the woman trapped in the body of a swan, most productions went overboard with tulle and feathers. Not so for this portrait, which had Anna’s lithe frame, all five-foot-eight of her, scarcely covered in strips of white leather held together with just the suggestion of mesh over bare skin. It seemed like forever since Anna had last sent a photo with her messages, and seeing her for the first time since setting foot in Germany was a little overwhelming. After so long apart, now they were barely separated by the walls of the Opera House. Victoria took one last lingering look, realized her mouth had gone dry, and strode across the square to take up her invitation for the evening ahead.

As soon as she entered the throng of people in search of a few hours of culture, Victoria accepted a glass of champagne. She turned away from the growing crowd at the bars that populate the Lindenoper’s stunning foyer, a sea of white marble and Greek-style columns reaching toward the evening sky.

Things had been revamped considerably since her own appearances in Berlin. In the ensuing decade and change, the major opera and ballet companies had merged into one association, sharing their beautiful theaters and opera houses. Even after spending a year in Paris, leading its crown jewel of a ballet company, Victoria hadn’t quite learned to relax on the matter of public funding for the arts. It certainly hadn’t reduced the number of donors and philanthropists she had to charm on a monthly basis.

One of whom had invited her here tonight, including a first-class plane ticket, which Victoria had been powerless to refuse. Perhaps had it been the local company, Berlin’s Staatsballett, she could have made her excuses. But when it had been a rare touring stop for the Metropolitan Ballet? Wild horses couldn’t have dragged her in any other direction. She’d been on the verge of asking Anna for a ticket and booking her own flight when the generous offer had fallen in her lap.

“Victoria! Darling!” Her benefactor had found her more quickly than Victoria expected.

She gave him a rare, genuine smile as he approached, arms wide to embrace her. Handsome and polished, he looked every bit the European gentleman in his white tie and tails. Pushing eighty, he had his wife at his side, decked out in her pearls and finery.

“Hello, Herr Hamman. This is quite an event.”

“Now, now, you call me Rudi. Sponsoring tonight is just part of my new plan. Bring the best of the world to me, and I don’t have to travel so much. I have grandchildren here now. Can’t be jetting off to New York or Moscow to see every new production.”

Victoria sipped at her drink, the bubbles having already dissipated. “As long as you still come to visit me in Paris sometimes. Bring the grandchildren when they’re old enough.”

“Of course, of course. May I introduce my wife? She was a great fan of your dancing, Victoria, and she’s very keen to meet the woman who’s been causing such a storm in Paris.”

Victoria nodded, her smile tight. A storm would be one word for it. Almost quitting three times, constant berating in the French press, and a company on the brink of mutiny most weeks—that qualified as turbulent. Victoria hadn’t expected to miss New York, to miss those familiar modern hallways of the Metropolitan, but there had been times when they seemed the only refuge from the gilded cage of the Paris Opera ballet.

The conversation with rich old people flowed as most of them did, Victoria turning on the charm and soaking up their praises. Answering obscure questions to let them show off their knowledge and attendance at some of the finest performances, to flaunt their access and involvement. It was no great strain, and it eased away the last nervous minutes before the theater bells summoned them to their seats.

Grateful to be on