“The only thing we ask is that you don’t sleep out here but return to your suite at night. The insurance company is quite adamant about that. Liability: we can’t guarantee your security on the perimeter like this, and cell service, I’m sure you’ve already noticed, can be sketchy—especially in the trees and especially with this snow. So we prefer that you come home at night.”

Maeve nods, distracted by the many versions of herself in reflection, Maeve upon Maeve in the mirrors. She walks into the center of the room, wanting to somehow take ownership, feel in control of the space, and pushes off on one foot, a controlled spin.

As she turns, Karo’s voice sounds smaller, as though she’s speaking from somewhere far away.

“It was really designed as a rehearsal space for dance companies. Small troupes, you know, and that’s often what we get here—”

Maeve breaks out of her turn.

“I am a dance company.” This comes out louder and more suddenly than she’d expected, the acoustics of the empty room changing her voice, expanding it outward. She looks up only to see her own face staring down, distorted in the curved glass of the skylight above. “Or,” she says, “or I will be. It just doesn’t look like it yet.”

When Karolina doesn’t respond, Maeve finds herself doing that thing—filling the silence with details.

“That’s why I’m here,” she says. “To build something new. Not to perform myself anymore, but to direct, to build a company.” Standing in the center of the room makes her feel like she’s onstage. She steps forward, leaning into it.

“I used to be a principal with Dance Theater Nouvelle Vague. And before that, with the National—”

Karolina nods, suddenly interested.

“I know exactly who you are.” She looks at Maeve and there’s something new in her eyes, some bit of fire. “I actually know Nouvelle Vague very well. Or I did, years ago. My husband was Gianpietro Conti, the playwright. He did some work with them when Jules Bourassa was the director.”

For a moment, Maeve can’t breathe. This piece of history is news to her. How much does Karolina really know?

“Before my time,” Maeve says quietly.

“Ah.” Karolina gives a little shrug. “Well. I hope this new endeavor will make you happy.” She seems tauter now, more intense. “I saw you dance once, when you were touring. At the Opera House in Bonn. But then you quit.”

“No.” Maeve takes a few steps toward her. “No, I never wanted to quit.”

“All right—you left.”

Karo closes the last cabinet, the latch clicking softly into place.