Page 27 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

The residents piled through the door. Charlie was reminded of flooding the hall after high school auditions to see who’d made the school play.

There were gasps and squeals as the residents spotted their names. Maggie clapped her hands together, her cheeks so rosy it made Charlie’s chest ache. She hadn’t realized quite how much this would mean to some of them. And as she watched their joy, a flicker of warmth washed through her.

Once the residents were seated, Julian looked to her.

Charlie stood, clearing her throat. “I just want to say that I am truly impressed with the talent we saw here today. And I can’t believe you’ve been letting me stand up here this whole time doing all the work.”

That earned her a few chuckles.

“First thing I’d like to do is get everyone arranged by voice type,” Charlie continued. She walked over to Frank, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Do you mind if I reposition your chair?”

“Not at all,” he said, lifting his hands into his lap.

Charlie took the back of his wheelchair, moving him to the middle of the group. “Okay, Frank and his lovely baritone voice should be here. Where are my other baritones?”

A few of the men stood up, carrying their chairs toward Frank.

“And what about my tenors?” Charlie asked.

The group looked around in confusion. That was expected. Not everyone knew their voice type. She consulted her list. “That’s Jim, Earl, Leroy and Nelson.” Her tenors joined the baritones in the middle of the group.

“Now can I get the sopranos to the left,” Charlie said. “That’s Gram, Maggie, Leane and Dot. And finally, my altos to the right.”

More chairs squeaked as Harriet, Elaine and Patrice repositioned themselves.

“Okay,” Charlie said, looking at her reorganized group. She suddenly had flashbacks to the first few classes at Juilliard. “I guess we should start with some vocal warmups. How does that sound?”

She’d started to take warmups more seriously recently. That first class she’d hosted had been a bit of a shock to the system after two years, so Charlie had gotten back into good habits. Hydration. Vocal care. Her voice was an instrument, and she still needed to look after it to perform her best. And so did the residents. “I’ll have my codirector demonstrate.”

“Umm…” Julian began.

She smirked, waving him up beside her. “I told you I’m not going to do all the work, didn’t I?”

Julian stood, looking sheepishly at the crowd. “Just take it easy on me.”

“Afraid you can’t handle it?”

There was something playful in his gaze. “I guess we’ll see what I can handle.”

Charlie swallowed hard. “Stand up straight.”

“I am.”

She pressed on the middle of his back, feeling the hard muscle flex along his spine. His chest puffed up, his broad shoulders rounding. She suppressed a shiver. “Straighter. Like this.”

Charlie made minor adjustments to his posture, hands placed against thick forearms or along the ropy muscles of his biceps, doing her best to fend off Alicia’s comments. But she failed, imagining one of Julian’s hands disappearing between—

Charlie almost gasped at the intensity of her thoughts. What was wrong with her? She reached up and tilted his jaw. “I’d like you to hum along with me.”

She demonstrated, and Julian copied. Poorly.

“Why are you making that face?” he asked.

“I didn’t know you could screw up humming.”

He tried again, much to the amusement of the residents.

“No, like this,” she said, chuckling. She clutched his face between her hands, gently, and with her thumbs, formed the correct shape with his mouth.