Her name was Dr. Marguerite Vane. She was seventy-three years old, wore purple sequins at 7 a.m., and had once been a principal dancer with the Royal Danish Ballet. She walked with a cane now, but when she stood at the front of the room, you forgot the cane.
Laufey’s stomach dropped. “I don’t—” laufey degree
Laufey looked up.
For three weeks, Laufey stepped on Dr. Vane’s feet. She knocked her own knees together. She turned left when she should have turned right, and once she accidentally elbowed Dr. Vane in the ribs. Her name was Dr
Laufey placed a hand on Dr. Vane’s shoulder. The old woman’s frame was bird-light, but her eyes were fierce. The music started—a slow, sad waltz—and Laufey moved. wore purple sequins at 7 a.m.