Page 82 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

Julian ran his hand through his hair. “Can I take a bit to think about it?”

“Of course. I do need to put the job posting up soon, though. So, if you’re leaning one way or the other, let me know.”

“I will,” he promised, already backing away to find the choir. “See you in a few days.” He whirled around, running smack into Doris as he turned the corner.

“General manager?“ she said. “Congratulations. That’s a big step.”

Julian rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He hadn’t realized anyone had been there to overhear. “I, uh, yeah. Thanks. I’m not really sure about it yet.”

“What do you mean?” Doris said as they set off down the hall to collect the choir. “There could be no one better suited to the role.”

“Because…” It was something he never would have considered in a million years. Because he was happy in his position. He was comfortable. He was…stuck. And he’d been stuck for a while now, latching on for fear of losing out. Or of somehow being left behind. “What if it doesn’t work out?” he said softly.

“That’s always a possibility. But in my experience,” Doris said thoughtfully, “life is far more exciting when you ask yourself, ‘What if it does?’”

Julian found himself at a loss for words. If he made the leap, he didn’t know where he would land. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work out, right? And was he really going to stop himself from taking this opportunity out of fear?

Well, yeah. That had sort of been his MO since forever. But what was he trying to protect himself from anyway? The feeling of not being good enough? Of being left behind once he’d already invested too much of himself?

Because that had already happened. Charlie had walked away from him again, and Julian hadn’t been able to save himself from that experience. And yet, he was still standing. He was hurt, sure, but his world hadn’t crumbled, his heart hadn’t stopped. He’d still gotten out of bed in the morning and dragged himself to work and put on a happy face for the people he cared about, because life kept demanding things from him, and it didn’t care what he was afraid of.

So maybe it was time for him to push past those fears and take a chance on something new. Maybe it was time for him to choose himself.

“I think you’ll find,” Doris said, “that you have a lot of people in your corner. An entire roomful of them, to be exact. And they want to see you succeed.”

People who had chosen him, Julian realized with a start. Because the residents were more than just a job to him. They’d become his family. And there was nothing he wanted more than to continue to make a difference for his family.

Eighteen

Charlie

Charlie had forgotten how much she liked the Upper West Side.

Actually, she’d forgotten how much she liked New York City during the holidays. It had been several years since she’d been in the city around Christmas, and the streets were buzzing. Christmas lights hung from lampposts in the shapes of stockings and jingle bells and holly leaves. Shop windows had been decorated in fake snow, with the words Season’s Greetings scrawled in reds and greens. Garland wreaths adorned almost every vertical surface.

Holiday cheer hadn’t been high on her priority list since losing Tom, and that void in her chest flashed with warning as she treaded too closely to the memories. But it was hard not to get back into the spirit of things when she was voting on gingerbread house competitions and decorating trees in the common room and singing Christmas carols on repeat with the choir. All of which was Julian’s doing.

A different kind of ache surfaced as she thought of him. Despite everything, she wished he was here now, if for nothing else than to enjoy the city with her.

Julian would have loved the way Christmas had crept across the boroughs. He would have marveled at the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, towering beneath the skyscrapers. She could have taken him to Gingerbread Lane at the Chelsea Market. They might have gone ice skating or walked Fifth Avenue to see the holiday window displays in Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s.

Or none of that.

Charlie stomped on a pile of slush and gritted her teeth when some of it ended up in her boots. She needed to stop thinking about Julian and things that would never happen.

She told herself that he just didn’t understand where her head was at, but maybe he just didn’t understand her. Performing on this stage now could be her way to honor the dream Tom had for both of them. And maybe, in some way, it would help assuage some of the guilt she was still carrying around. If she could stand up there and say, I did it, Tom, then everything would hurt less. The loss would finally start to make sense. If Julian couldn’t understand why she had to do that, then leaving what could have been behind in Elm Springs had been for the best.

She hurried across Columbus Avenue and down the sidewalk, careful of the slushy pavement under her feet. She passed the large silver block letters that spelled out LINCOLN CENTER and headed for the main entrance of the building, yanking on one of the glass doors, finding it unlocked.

Inside, she was greeted by a security guard in a pale blue uniform. She showed him her ID, and he led her through a nondescript door before pointing her down a back hallway.

Charlie had only ever been in attendance here as an audience member. Now she was a guest. A performer!

A little thrill shot through her. A thrill she hadn’t felt in a long time. The New York Philharmonic! She couldn’t believe she was about to stand onstage with them.

Charlie navigated the long hallway to a series of offices, stopping next to an open door. The nameplate read Damien McGuire—Program Director.

She knocked.