by Kristy Tate
Nora, knowing her jealousy was ridiculous, said, “Good idea! But this bread will take me a while. You two should go ahead.”
After Cole and Darby had been gone about an hour, Nora punched down the bread, pulled it from its mixing bowl and kneaded the life out of it.
COLE DIDN’T MIND TOURING Nora’s friend around the campus. He took a lot of pleasure and pride in the school and he loved showing it off. Darby, it seemed, liked showing off her ultra-white teeth, and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she had a hidden agenda. Besides, the woman he wanted to get to know was Nora. There’s lots of time, he promised himself. A whole year, to be exact.
“Your mom must be an amazing person to have started this school,” Darby said as they strolled across the quad.
“It’s a cool story,” Cole told her. “Want to hear it?”
Darby nodded.
“First off, she didn’t start it, not really. It was founded by Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson. I grew up calling them the Fergies. They had been missionaries in Santiago, Chile—that’s where they met my mom.”
“Irena is Chilean?”
“She doesn’t look it, does she? Her father’s family, like many Germans, migrated from Munich to Chile during the Second World War. Anyway, the Fergusons taught English as a second language at the school where my mom was teaching. They became friends, and so when the Fergusons returned to California, they started this school and recruited my mom. Mrs. Ferguson’s family owned the land. At first, it was just a handful of ranch kids who didn’t want to make the six-mile drive to the closest school. After the Ferguson’s died, they left the school and all the property to my mom. We sold a hundred acres and used the capital to create what you now see.”
“It’s amazing,” Darby said. “So, your mom never married?”
“No, she did.” Cole stuck his hands in his pockets. “Sadly, that story doesn’t have as happy of an ending.”
Darby must have sensed his reluctance because she tucked her hand around Cole’s arm. “So how many students do you have now?”
“Our enrollment cap is five hundred. Not all of them live here, of course, but most do.”
Darby glanced around. “Live here? So, where is everyone?”
“The school closes for maintenance every year for the last two weeks of August. Even the boarders are sent off campus so we can take care of renovations without worrying about them falling into the constructions sites or electrocuting themselves on loose wires.” He chuckled. “They’ll be back in droves starting tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I thought school didn’t start until next Tuesday.”
“That’s right, but we let them have a few days to settle in.” Cole paused, wondering how he could steer the conversation back to Nora.
“I’d love to see the horses,” Darby said.
Cole obligingly walked toward the stables. “These are actually the oldest buildings on campus,” he told her. “Once this all belonged to Don Carlos, a horse rancher and Mrs. Ferguson’s grandfather. That’s where my mom lives.” He nodded at a tall white wooden farmhouse surrounded by a white picket fence. Two rockers sat on the front porch. Red geraniums spilled out of the flower boxes sitting below each window.
“And where do you live?” Darby asked.
Cole nodded at a one-story building slightly behind the stables. “It was once the barn. It needs renovation. I work on it when I can.”
“Did you always want to be a principal?”
He nodded. “I like kids. I also teach Spanish. I’d probably rather be teaching full time, but someone needs to run the school.”
“So, you never dreamed of leaving all this and joining the real world?” Darby asked.
“No. Why would I?” Cole asked.
Darby stood silently for a moment as if she were doing some mental calculations. “Do you think your mom wanted a girls’ school to compensate for not having a daughter?”
Cole snorted a laugh. “She’s never mentioned anything like that to me.”
“Well, she wouldn’t, would she?”
“It was actually the Ferguson’s who turned Canterbury into a girls’ school. Mrs. Fergie complained that the boys were too messy, and they broke too many bones. So, sometime in the eighties, Canterbury became a school for girls.”
“The eighties, huh? Before your time?”
“I was born in ninety-one.”
“Me, too,” Darby said, tightening her grip on his arm as they approached the stables.
Cole cleared his throat and searched for a way to steer the conversation back to Nora without being too obvious. “So, how long have you known Nora?”
“We met in elementary school and she helped me with my homework all through junior high. Sadly, by the time we got to high school, she was in all the advanced classes so I had to learn to get by on my own.”
Cole grinned. “And did you?”
Darby returned his smile. “I do okay. I can afford to live in a beach town, and that says a lot.”
Cole was dying to ask about Mr. Tomas, but he didn’t know how. Instead, he asked, “How do you think she’ll fit in here?”
“She’s brilliant...but naive?” Darby paused at the split- rail fence surrounding the corral and gazed at the horses grazing in the field. “Wow. They’re gorgeous...and huge!”
Cole gazed fondly at Triton, his Arabian stallion, who shook his mane and nickered at him. Cole pointed at a dappled bay. “That’s my mom’s horse, Specter.” He nodded at the cluster of mustangs enjoying the shade beneath a giant oak. “Those are a few of the ponies the students ride.”
“And that one?” Darby asked, pointing at Triton.
“He’s mine. Mr. Fergie bought him for me when I got my doctorate.”
“Doctorate? In what?”
“I wrote my dissertation on education in an evolving society.”
Darby wrapped her arms around herself as if to shield her from harm. “You and Nora are a matched set,” she said in a small voice.
“How do you figure? She went to business school.”
“She’s still a brainiac. She went to business school because her parents wanted her to and her ex-husband thought it was a good idea. What about your dad?”
But Cole didn’t want to talk about his dad. The thousand questions he wanted to ask about Nora flooded him and he struggled to find the one he should ask, but before he could even form a word, Chad, the P.E. teacher, emerged from the stables. He wore low- slung jeans, a pair of cowboy boots and not much else. The teachers, as well as the students, had a strict dress code, so Chad’s bare chest surprised him.
“And who is that?” Darby asked, sounding much more interested in the half-naked teacher than she was in the horses.
Cole cleared his throat. “Chad, come and meet Darby.” He waved him over and introduced them to each other.
“You’re not the new English teacher, are you?” Chad asked. “I thought you said you were an accountant.”
“Minus one for you,” Darby said.
“She’s the English teacher’s friend,” Cole told him. His gaze flitted between them. “Do you two know each other?”
“We bumped into each other at the airport,” Chad said.
“That day, I was the one who lost my shirt,” Darby said.
Chad blushed. “I don’t usually dress like this.”
“Please don’t apologize,” Darby said. “I just think it’s funny that our tables turned.”
“Capra barfed on me.” Chad’s gaze sought out Cole’s. “I threw the shirt away.”
Cole laughed.
“That goat!” Chad spat out the word. “I swear he would eat a car if we left him alone with one.”
“You have goats?” Darby asked.
“We have a goat,” Cole corrected. “One goat. He’s more than enough.”
“I’d like to meet him,” Darby said.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Cole said.
Darby stared at Chad’s chest a moment too long. “I think I would.”
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“Come on, then,” Chad said, holding out his hand. “Let me do the honors and make the introductions.”
Cole, who had very little interest in Capra the goat, and a heaping interest in Nora the English teacher, said, “I think I’ll go back to the cottage and check on the soup.”
A MAN WITH A SOFT BELLY and tufts of gray spikey hair around his ears stood outside Nora’s window. She nearly screamed when she saw him, but he gave her a goofy grin and motioned for her to open the front door.
Nora debated on the wisdom of this, but decided it was too late to pretend that she hadn’t seen him. Besides, he was probably a fellow teacher. Sighing, she wiped her hands on a dishrag and went to let him in.
The gray spikes around his ears pointed to the sky, as if trying to disguise the true sparsity of his hair. He was one of those rare people who actually looked much worse after closer inspection. “Hello there!” He shoved a beefy hand at her. “You must be the new English teacher. I’m Barry Sprog, the science teacher, the dissector of toads, and sex-ed guy.” He winked.
Nora accepted his hand. “I’m Nora Tomas.”
“I know!”
Nora resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her jeans.
“Sprog!” Cole called out.
Nora twisted to watch Cole round the corner.
Barry shot Cole a quick look, then turned back to Nora as if he hadn’t even seen Cole. “This place has never looked, or smelled, so good. Clam chowder?”
“Correct.”
He beamed. “Score one for me. But to truly ace this test, I need a taste.” He chuckled. “Get it? A taste-test?”
Nora wondered how she could get rid of the science teacher without being rude. “Oh, well...would you like to come in, Mr. Sprog?”
“Call me Barry. And yes, why yes I would.”
“It’s just soup and bread.” Nora tried to sound discouraging, but she knew the aromas wafting from the kitchen were working against her.
“But I bet it isn’t Campbell’s and Wonder.”
“Correct again but—” Nora began.
“I’m making the grade here!”
Cole caught up to them before Nora could respond. He slapped Barry on the back. “Welcome, home, Sprog.”
Barry flushed. “Thanks.”
“What happened to Darby?” Nora asked.
“She got horse-tied,” Cole said with a grin.
“What?” Nora asked, feeling lost. Barry seemed to have caught the joke because he snorted a laugh.
“She’ll be here soon,” Cole said.
Nora went to the cupboard to get the dishes to set a place for Barry, even though she had regretted inviting him as soon as the words left her mouth. She slapped a plate onto the table and laid the silverware.
But Darby didn’t show up and Nora had to listen to Barry drone on and on about his trip to the Amazon and his search for the elusive wandering spiders.
She had dozens of questions for Cole—she wanted to know all about him and his mom—but Barry only stopped talking long enough to shovel soup into his mouth.
“Sometimes you can find the little suckers on banana leaves, which is rough for the natives who harvest bananas,” Barry said.
“They’re poisonous?” Nora asked, trying to be polite.
“Oh yeah,” Barry said.
“Then why are you searching for them?”
“Well...” Barry put down his spoon. “Although their venom is toxic to the nervous system, and can cause such things as salivation, irregular heartbeat, and prolonged, painful erections in men, some believe the venom could be a treatment for erectile dysfunction.” He picked up his spoon back up and concentrated on his soup. “Not that that’s an issue for me, or anything,” he mumbled. “I just like spiders.” He perked back up and tore into a piece of bread. “In fact, if you ever see any spiders around here, just holler. I’m happy to be your exterminator.”
“WHERE WERE YOU?” NORA demanded when Darby finally showed up.
Darby blushed. “Didn’t you have a nice dinner with Cole?”
“No! It was tragic!” Nora plunged her hands back into the soapy water, found her sponge and scrubbed a bowl.
“Tragic?” Darby went to the fridge in search of leftover soup.
“Well, maybe that’s too harsh a word, but still it was awkward.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “The neighbor showed up. He’s the science teacher and all he could talk about was spiders and erectile dysfunction.”
Darby pulled out the container of soup, found a bowl, and poured herself a generous serving before putting it in the microwave. “What? How do those two topics even go together?”
Nora shook her head. “I didn’t even get a chance to really talk to Cole.”
Darby patted Nora’s shoulder as she brushed past on her way to the bread box. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll have lots of one-on-one time with Cole.”
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Nora said.
“Me too,” Darby said with a sly smile as she cut herself a thick slice of bread.
“Really?” Nora brightened.
“Absolutely. This place is heaven.” The microwave dinged and Darby extracted her steaming bowl of soup. “I could stay here while you cooked for me. It would be great.”
“You’re kidding, right? Because if you aren’t, I’d say let’s go get your things right now so you can move in.”
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”
Nora dried her hands on a dish towel. “What if you were right? I know nothing about teaching...nothing about girls that age.”
“You were a girl that age!”
Nora sat down at the table across from Darby. “But was I really? You know what they say about only children. I was an adult by the time I was seven. I was taller than most of my teachers by the time I was in sixth grade.”
“Height has nothing to do with maturity.” Darby whistled. “That’s pretty deep coming from me.” She smiled before she took another spoonful of soup. “What filled you with self-doubt?”
“Barry Sprog.”
Darby spit out her soup with a snort. “What’s a Barry Sprog?”
“It’s not an it... I mean he’s not an it, he’s a who. He’s the science teacher.”
“Oh yeah, the one with erectile dysfunction.”
Nora laughed and cast a guilty look at the window, afraid that her new neighbor would hear them and be offended. “We don’t know that.”
“Yeah, we do.”
“I guess you’re right. Why else would anyone spend their vacation in Brazil searching for poisonous spiders?” Nora thought about Darby joining her at Canterbury. “You can work remotely, right?”
“Sweetie.” Darby squeezed her hand. “I love that you want me to join you here, but it’s never going to happen. Stick to the plan. You’ll work at Canterbury for the next school year, teaching by day and writing your next book by night. At the end of nine months, you’ll have finished your book, you’ll sell it to Hollywood, and we’ll throw a lavish party. If I stay here, I’ll only get in the way.”
“Tomorrow is the first staff meeting.”
“And you’ll be great.”
“The next day the students start returning.”
“And they’ll love you.”
“I’m not as worried about the girls as I should be. I’m more worried about Irena and Cole.”
“They’ll love you, too.”
Nora breathed out a sigh. “I hope so.”
NORA HUGGED HER NOTEBOOK to her chest, pulled open the door of the administration building, braced her shoulders, and followed the sound of conversations floating down the hall.
“It’s insanity!” One woman’s voice rose above the others. “That job should have gone to Turner Lawson and everyone knows it!”
“Not everyone,” a man’s voice answered.
“That boy was so impressed that she wrote a book,” the shrill voice continued. “I hate to tell you this, but everybody and their dog is writing a book nowada
ys.”
“That boy, as you called him, is your boss,” another male voice said. “And if you really hated telling me things, you’d stop talking.”
Nora paused outside the teachers’ lounge, her heart hammering. How could she go in there? They all hated her without even meeting her because she wasn’t the UCI professor. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to give herself a pep-talk. Come on, you can do this. Her mind went back to the early days of Apex when there were had been men who didn’t like taking instructions from her. They, correctly, had believed that she only had her job because she was sleeping with the boss. And that had been true, but it was also true that Blake knew and trusted her more than anyone else, and he knew that once she overcame her natural shyness, she would be an outstanding president. And she had been. And if she could take a startup company and turn it into a multi-million-dollar corporation, then she could teach English at a small school for girls.
She walked into the room and conversations hushed.
“Good morning.” Nora glanced around the room. It didn’t take her long to spot the sixtyish woman with the shrill voice. Nora gave her a bright smile, walked across the room and took a seat at the table. “I’m Nora Tomas.” She waited for the others to introduce themselves.
Barry quickly pulled up a chair, sat beside her, and patted Nora’s hand.
Nora sat on her hands. “I’ve already met Barry, of course.”
“We’re neighbors,” Barry said, flushing a deep red. “This is Missy Meridian, our art teacher.” He pointed at a pregnant dark-haired beauty who gave Nora a small wave and a tentative smile. “And Darrel Poole, our music teacher and nurse.”
Nora guessed the sharp voice belonged to Darrel, a soft and pudgy sixty-something who wore her gray hair loose around her shoulders and looked a little like a giant English sheepdog.
Barry continued, “And that guy fiddling with the TV is Harris Jenkins, our technology teacher.” Harris, who looked about the same age as Darrel, poked his bald head out from behind the screen to give her a smile.
