The Right Time

by Susan X Meagher

  Townsend gave her a slap on the back. “You won’t have any trouble. We’re going to pay decently, and the cabins are going to be really nice. This will be like a vacation for writing teachers, and I’m sure you know lots of them, all of them probably needing a break.”

  “I do,” Hennessy said. “And since most of the ones I know live in Boston, they’ll all be itching to get away from home for a few weeks once it gets cold.”

  “Then we’re good. Now let’s go buy some computers.”

  Hennessy slung her arm around Townsend’s shoulders and pulled her close for a hug. “I know I’ve said this a dozen times, but I’m going to have to say it a dozen more. Thank you for this.”

  Townsend laughed. “You might not be thanking me when we’re trying to juggle a bunch of picky novice writers along with a smaller bunch of teachers. It’s gonna be crazy the first year. Guaranteed.”

  “I don’t care if I have to fight off a den of panthers. This is the job I’ve wanted my whole damned life, Townsend, and I’m forever in your debt for making my dream a reality.”

  “This is a new dream for me, but I couldn’t ask for anyone better to start it off with. We’re gonna rock this place, baby girl. In a few years, people are going to be knocking each other over to get a spot at The Academy.”

  Hennessy stuck her hand out and Townsend shook it, firmly. “I’d hate to be the fool who thinks he can stop us.”

  They’d spent the day getting their new computers set up, meeting with the designer and directing the camp handyman in where they wanted their whiteboards. By six, Hennessy’s stomach started to rumble.

  “Is that a hint?” Townsend asked, looking up from her computer.

  “Hungry. I’ve got to run over to the mess hall to get some dinner before they close.”

  Townsend stood, stretched and powered down her computer. “Don’t think so. You’ve going to get in my car, go to the grocery store, then run by the home store to pick up the bare necessities for cooking dinner. I will not have you spending your evenings with children.”

  “Really?” She knew she looked like a puppy who’d just been promised a walk, but she was definitely not looking forward to listening to a bunch of little girls giggle all evening.

  “Really. I plan on relaxing at the end of the day by making a nice dinner. And my dinner will be so much nicer if I have you…doing at least half of the work.”

  Hennessy laughed. “I can do more than half. Do you have a barbecue grill?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then we need to make three stops. It’ll be dark as pitch by the time we’re eating, but it’ll be worth it.”

  Hennessy struggled to get the barbecue grill assembled in the waning light, her job made more difficult with the rudimentary tools at her disposal. A basic tool set would be her housewarming gift. That was something Townsend would need, and wouldn’t think to buy.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t hear Townsend come down the steps. When a flashlight illuminated the bolt she was trying to tighten, she jumped, then let out a laugh. “You’re as quiet as a cat.”

  “Not really,” Townsend said. “You’re concentrating.”

  “That I am.” She stood tall and looked at the grill critically. “A good wind would have this in pieces, but I think it’ll hold together enough for our dinner.”

  “I brought the charcoal down. Want me to dump it in?”

  “Dump it in?” Hennessy gave her a look. “I can tell I’m going to have to school you in proper barbecue technique.”

  A warm hand settled upon the small of her back. “No need. I’ll leave that to you.” Then she was gone, with the lingering touch of her hand making Hennessy’s skin tingle.

  It didn’t take as long as Hennessy had predicted, but it was pitch dark by the time she brought the crispy-skinned, sauce-laden pieces of chicken up to the kitchen. “My eyes feel like they’ve had sand blown into them.”

  Townsend had spent the last half hour shining her flashlight onto Hennessy’s work surface, proving herself a very able nighttime barbecue assistant. “Mine did too. Go wash your face. That helped a lot. By the time you come back, your dinner will be awaiting you.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  A few minutes later, Hennessy sat on the porch, with her plate balanced on her knees. She was sure Townsend would soon have proper chairs and tables and all sorts of other furnishings, but she was as happy as a dead pig in the sunshine with nothing more than screens surrounding her and a place to park her butt.

  The chicken was still hot, and she tried to get her mouth around it without scalding herself. Townsend went for the more refined tactic of using a knife and fork, and as the first bite entered her mouth Hennessy felt a chill run down her body, landing where it shouldn’t have landed. The pleasured growl Townsend let out, combined with the sated grin on her pretty face was about all Hennessy could bear.

  “This might be the best thing I’ve had in my mouth in years,” she said, her voice close to a moan. She looked unquestionably happy, but that wasn’t what made Hennessy squirm. It was the look in her eyes. Yes, tonight that look was for food, but Hennessy could easily see it brandished during lovemaking. Could easily see that same expression suffuse her features moments after an orgasm—an image Hennessy could not, would not allow herself to conjure.

  She had to get herself in check, and she had to do it now. It was wrong on many levels, and supremely disrespectful to Kate. Ignoring the temperature, she picked up a thigh and took a bite, letting hot juices run down her chin. Focus on the food! That seemed to do the trick, as the rewards of her efforts flooded her taste buds. “Not bad, if I do say so myself. If this program doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll add on and make it Boudreaux’s Fish Shack and Barbecue Pit.”

  “That would be a hit,” Townsend agreed, “but you’re going to be full-time busy on Hilton Head, only smelling of smoke at the end of the day.”

  It was after eleven when Hennessy got into Townsend’s little car to head back to camp. Once she’d gotten herself in hand, it had been so damned much fun to goof off with someone you enjoyed as much as she did Townsend. This was exactly what she and Kate should have been doing…if they ever had a whole evening free…and a barbecue grill…and a yard to put the grill in…and a porch to sit on and talk after the meal. Thoughts of poor Kate stopping at the little Greek deli on her way home from the T filled her with guilt. Kate wasn’t the type to spend the time cooking for herself. Hennessy let out a sigh. No matter how bad she felt, she couldn’t make Kate treat herself the way she would if she were there. She wasn’t there, and that was by her own choice. Every decision had repercussions—sometimes hurting the bystanders more than the participants. Filling her mind with Kate’s image, she resolved to keep her foremost in her heart and her imagination. Exactly where she belonged, no matter how many miles separated them.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sharing an office was surprisingly easy to do—or maybe it was just easy when your office mate was Hennessy. She was the kind of woman who put her head down and didn’t pick it up until hunger pangs got her attention. No idle chat, no insisting that you look at a funny video, no whispered suggestions that they go jump in the ocean and blow off the afternoon.

  Townsend didn’t have that same kind of focus—most of the time, at least. Many were the days, like today, when she let Hennessy’s calm, assured voice lure her away from whatever she’d been trying to get done and simply listen to her sweet talk yet another instructor into joining them.

  Today’s conversation didn’t bring out Hennessy’s persuasive skills. Instead of her usual upright, militaristic posture, she’d leaned back in her chair and propped a foot on a pulled out drawer. She wasn’t as relaxed as she would have been speaking with a friend, but it was close. When the receiver hit the cradle, Hennessy let out a soft “Yes!” then sat up and focused on her keyboard, starting to type away.

  As she often did, Townsend picked up a pink paper clip and tossed it at her, always trying
to get one stuck in Hennessy’s hair. “You can’t make those happy little exclamations and not tell me what you’re quietly celebrating.”

  “I thought you were working,” Hennessy said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she deftly removed the clip from her hair. She knew full well Townsend was as easily distracted as a two-year-old; she politely didn’t acknowledge that.

  Townsend put her chin in her hand and stared at her. “I’m always interested in good news.”

  Hennessy’s eyes shone with excitement. The smallest thing made her so damned happy. “I convinced one of my very favorite professors to teach a master class on developing a memoir.” She stuck both hands in the air triumphantly. “I’m stoked!”

  “How’d you lure a Harvard prof down here in”—she thought for a second—”end of January, right?”

  Hennessy let out a quiet laugh. “I’d think most of them would like to come down here to escape the snow, but this particular prof retired last year. You’re gonna love her. Guaranteed. And if she likes doing it, I’m going to press her to come back next year for even more sessions. She’s wonderful,” Hennessy enthused. “Twelve lucky students are going to have a life-changing experience with Doctor Kincaid.”

  “Great. That means we only need two more instructors for our master’s session, right?”

  “One more,” Hennessy said, showing a foxy smile. “Nicole’s supposed to sign on the dotted line within the next day or two.” Her head cocked. “She hasn’t mentioned that?”

  “We haven’t talked about it. I told her I’m out of the loop when it comes to hiring, and she’s been very good about not involving me. That’s a good sign.”

  “Very good,” Hennessy agreed.

  “So you really liked her?” She knew she was begging for information, but it was okay at this point.

  “I did.” Hennessy turned her chair around, opened the filing cabinet and removed a manilla folder. Taking a few pages out, she scanned them and nodded. “I was surprised at how much experience she has. Did she start teaching when she was still in school?”

  “Don’t think so. I know she taught high school for a while, but didn’t care for it. Going solo was a career change for her.”

  Hennessy continued to look at the CV. “How does that add up?”

  Seeing what she was getting at, Townsend said, “She’s thirty-nine. That gives you a few years to play with.”

  “Thirty-nine?” Her eyes popped wide open. “Then this all makes perfect sense.” Dropping the papers, she looked up and gave Townsend a wry grin. “You’re clearly not a cradle-robber.”

  She stood and put a hand up to her shoulder, laughing when she said, “You only have to be this tall to ride. There’s no age limit.”

  “Good for you. Expand your horizons.”

  “Oh, I plan on having all sorts of things expanded when I see her next. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Feel free to keep me in the dark,” Hennessy said, sticking her fingers into her ears. “It’s always good to leave something to the imagination.”

  By the end of June, they’d gotten the program pretty well organized. Hennessy still had some teaching slots to fill, but she was getting close. Now Townsend would be able to shift into high gear, finding students to occupy those classrooms.

  Townsend went to the whiteboard on the wall and put a big X on the date. “It’s June the twenty-sixth,” she proclaimed.

  Hennessy paused, her fingers hovering over the computer keys. Then she pushed her chair back and looked at Townsend. “Is this a new thing? You’re going to announce each day like the town crier?”

  “Too busy. I just realized we’ve got six months until our first class starts. Time to get moving!”

  “I’ve been moving.” Hennessy got up and stood next to the whiteboard, extended her index finger and pointed at the long list of courses, dates and instructors all ticked off. “January 3. Four classes. Four instructors hired. January 10. Five classes. Five instructors hired—”

  Townsend clapped a hand over her mouth. “Okay. Then I need to get moving.”

  Hennessy pried the hand away, checked the clock and started to pack up. “I’m glad you distracted me. I don’t want to miss my bus.” She moved back to her computer, closed down the program she was using and started to power down.

  “Let me give you a ride to Beaufort,” Townsend said. “I swear I don’t mind.”

  Hennessy paused to give her a fond smile. “Despite how kind you are, I can’t believe you really like taking a long drive through rush hour traffic just to drop me off at home. Especially on the day you close on your house!”

  “You’d rather take a bus? That turns a forty-five minute drive into an hour and a half.”

  “I’ve got a good book. You go on home and luxuriate in your house. Your air con-di-tioned house. Don’t give another thought to me sweatin’ and swatin’ skeeters.”

  Townsend smiled. “You win. I’ll stop at the store and buy something special. Make myself a big housewarming meal.” She dropped her head in her hands. “Damn, that sounds pathetic!”

  “I promise I’ll make you one when I get back. A really good one.” Hennessy offered a hug, then started for the door.

  “At least let me drive you to the bus.” She caught herself and let out a quick laugh. “I almost said bus station. It’s hard to get my mind around using fast food outlets as transportation hubs.”

  “McDonald’s and Wendy’s here. In Beaufort it’s the Walmart.” Her smile was particularly charming. “That’s class.”

  “The whole system is odd,” Townsend said. “Like how there’s only one bus a day in each direction.”

  Hennessy picked up a binder and tried to fit it into her backpack. Despite her claims, she never read a book on the bus. The woman was always working. “I wouldn’t call it a normal bus. Exactly.”

  That stopped Townsend cold. “What kind of not normal bus is it?”

  Her grin was so cute no one could have kept a straight face when she flashed it. “It’s normal. That wasn’t the right term.”

  Townsend moved over to sit on the corner of Hennessy’s desk. “I’m close enough to twist your ear until you spill it, Boudreaux.” She slid her hand along Hennessy’s cheek, trapping her ear between her fingers. “Now talk.”

  “Okay, okay.” She met Townsend’s eyes and said, “People who live on Hilton Head don’t take buses.”

  “Obvious exception. You live on Hilton Head, and you take a bus.”

  “True. I’m also the only person on that bus who doesn’t clean hotel rooms or wait tables or park cars or cut grass.” She shrugged. “The driver knows me now, but the first couple of times I tried to get on he did his best to convince me I was barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Because you’re…white?”

  “I think it’s more than that.” She bit at her bottom lip for a second. “I’ve moved past my roots. I don’t look like a girl who’s the first in her family to graduate from high school.”

  Townsend was struck by how embarrassed she seemed to be to admit that. Pulling Hennessy close, she whispered into her ear, “I hate to break this to you, but you never looked like that.”

  Hennessy jerked up to her full height. “Of course I did! I bought the first pair of new shoes I ever owned in Paris.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The day I met you, I was sure you’d spent too much time in a tanning bed. You’ve always looked classy, baby girl. Always.”

  Embarrassment colored her cheeks. “I still don’t feel it. I’m the same as those people on the bus. Hell, I would’ve been so much better off if I could’ve gotten a job cleaning hotels when I was in high school. I got paid nothing for working at the shack.”

  Gently, Townsend stroked her hair. “I know you feel like a member of the underclass, but you’re not. You don’t have to embrace the professional class, but you’re in it. And that’s how people are going to treat you.” Townsend got up and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “I hate to add to your woes, but
you’ve lost a lot of your accent too.”

  “I know,” she said, her head drooping in shame. “I’m gonna get it back.” Hoisting her heavy pack onto a shoulder she added, “Being around my family will help. I’m taking a weekend course in how to talk Low Country. Can’t be late.” Then she was off, backpack dangling, like a kid stumbling off the school bus.

  Townsend emerged from the shower the next morning, responding to the insistent knock on her front door. When she opened it, a grinning Hennessy stood there, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. “Happy birthday, June Bug!”

  “Oh, my God!” Bursting with pleasure, Townsend grabbed her and gave her a robust hug. Her hastily tucked towel started to fall and she grabbed it to cover herself. “Are you the sweetest thing ever, or what?”

  “You know, you’re starting to sound like a Southerner. You’d better watch that or they’re going to take your New England membership card away.”

  “They can have it. I’m a South Carolinian now. Get in here, you little scamp. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

  Hennessy handed the flowers over, but didn’t enter. “I can’t just yet. I spent last night getting organized, but I’ve still got some things to do. Can I borrow your car?”

  “Hold on a second and I’ll go with you.”

  “No can do. It’s a surprise. I hope you don’t have any plans for the day, because what I’ve got cookin’ is gonna keep you busy until dark.”

  Townsend grabbed the keys lying by the entry table and handed them over. “I have no plans at all. I’m yours for the taking.”

  Hennessy leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to leave you right here. Don’t go away now.”

  Townsend watched her rush down the stairs, so happy to have Hennessy remember her birthday that her body tingled with excitement. It was going to be a great one!

  Two hours later, Hennessy returned, and started to unload an odd assemblage of tools and bags. Townsend had been sitting on her newly installed porch swing, and she called down, “Wait just a second and I’ll help you.”