RPI. Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. Neal’s dream college.
“They were so young,” Anne mused. Everyone had thought she was marrying too young at twenty-two, before she’d even finished her master’s degree. “They were barely out of high school. No wonder they didn’t make it.”
“Actually, Neal was still in high school when Autumn was born. But, I don’t think their age was the biggest problem. John and I started dating when we were sixteen and married the summer after we graduated high school. Twelve years later, we’re still together.”
Anne bit her tongue. She’d let her mouth get the best of her and insulted Jamie. Maybe Michael had been right. She needed a keeper.
“No,” Jamie picked up where she’d left off. “Emily said Vanessa was unstable. Scary-crazy were her actual words. But she’s remembering through the eyes of a ten-year-old.”
“Poor Neal.”
“Good thing he’s not around to hear that.”
“But he missed out on so much. He gave up his scholarship to RPI.”
Confusion spread across Jamie’s face.
“Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. That’s all he used to talk about. How he wanted to go there.”
Jamie shrugged. “You do what you have to do. He’s going to college now, just a few years later than planned.”
Almost twenty years later and at NCCC, not world-renown RPI.
“Besides, if you ask him, he’ll tell you he has no regrets. He wouldn’t trade having and raising Autumn for anything. If you had kids, you’d know what I mean.”
Her friend’s unintentional barb stung. She’d wanted kids. Still did, if the right man came along. A vision of Neal, his face lit with recognition when he’d realized who she was this afternoon, filled her mind. Anne blinked the image away.
Jamie stopped the car by Anne’s side door. “Want to come over and meet her? Autumn?”
Anne hesitated. “Some other time. I’m beat.”
“Sure. And my invitation is still open to come to church with us on Sunday. You’ve met some of the other members now, and I know you’ll like Pastor Joel. Everyone does.”
“Hazardtown Community Church is on my list.” She’d made a list of local churches to visit until she found one that felt right. “I’ll let you know.”
Anne let herself out of the car and waved goodbye to Jamie. She couldn’t get Neal’s situation out of her mind. NCCC wasn’t RPI, but she’d developed a good environmental studies program and could make sure Neal had every opportunity to make the most of it.
A cool gust of wind swirled the leaves on the driveway around her feet. She unlocked the door and flicked the light switch. The kitchen overhead fixture came on, then faded and flickered before returning to full power. She’d told her landlord about the problem, and he’d said he’d have someone come to check it out. She’d call him again in the morning.
The light flickered again and went out. Maybe she should call Neal instead.
Standing in the dark, she pictured herself and Neal sitting in this room at the kitchen table when her grandmother owned the house, quizzing each other for an Olympiad meet.
A shiver ran up her spine. The thought of Neal in her home, working for her, was almost as unsettling as having him as her student.
She’d call her landlord.
* * *
Anne frowned at the black pickup truck parked in the driveway in front of her garage the following afternoon. She’d left a message for her landlord this morning, but he hadn’t called her back to say he was sending someone over. Of course, he might have called her house phone. An octogenarian and former friend of her grandparents, Harry Stowe didn’t seem to grasp that he had a better chance of reaching her on her cell phone or at her office phone number.
She pulled beside the truck and shut off her car. A bright yellow lightbulb logo on the truck door proclaimed Let Lake Electrics Light Your World. She hesitated getting out. Maybe she should go over to Jamie’s. The school bus had driven by Anne going the other direction. So Jamie would be home from work. Harry should have cleared things with her before he let the workman in.
A familiar bespectacled face topped by wispy white hair peered out from behind her living-room drapes. Harry. Anne placed her hand over her heart as if that would stop the pounding. She grabbed her briefcase, stepped out of the car and started toward the house. Enough time had gone by that she should be more used to living alone.
Harry had the door swung open before she got to the steps. “Come on in. I put water on for tea.”
“Thanks.” She wasn’t entirely comfortable with the older man making himself so at home, even though he owned the house.
He pulled a chair out at the kitchen table for her and went back to the stove.
The kettle whistled. A cup of tea would be nice. She dropped her case on the counter by the door and sat at the table.
Harry placed a mug in front of her and a matching one on the opposite side of the table. “I didn’t see any cookies,” he said, his voice rising in question.
“No, sorry.” She sipped her tea. “It doesn’t seem worth the effort to bake only for me.”
“It’s probably for the best.” He lowered himself into the other chair. “I’m not supposed to have them anyway.”
Her companion stared into his mug of tea, his eyes slowly closing. Had he fallen asleep?
“Your grandmother made the best chocolate chip cookies.”
Anne started, a wave of tea slopping over the top of her mug. She jumped up and grabbed a paper towel to mop it up.
“She used to bring them into school and leave them in the faculty lounge.” He smacked his lips together in remembrance.
“You taught with Grandma?”
“I was the high school principal.” His eyes went soft. “Why, I remember the day she...”
Anne geared up for one of Harry’s stories about the good old days.
Then, there was a clang of something hitting the cement floor, followed by a muffled male voice, reverberated from the basement.
Harry paused. “The electrician is replacing the fuse box with breakers. A young fella.”
From Anne’s experience with her landlord, young could be anyone from a teenager up to her parents’ age.
“Edna Donnelly recommended him. She taught with your grandmother. Seemed to think he needs the work. But who doesn’t in today’s economy?”
Anne swallowed her mouthful of tea. The man working in her basement had to be Neal.
“She’s hired him to work on her wiring, too. I was skeptical when he said he could come right over today. It sounded like he has no other customers. But Edna’s known him his whole life and says he’s the best. That’s good enough for me.”
Footsteps sounded on the basement stairs.
Anne gripped her mug.
“Done already?” Harry asked as Neal entered the kitchen.
He stopped abruptly when he saw Anne. “Not quite. I need some different gauge wire to run from the well pump to the breaker. It’s out in the truck.” He looked at the door as if considering how quickly he could be out of it.
“This is my tenant, Anne Howard. Her grandmother used to own this house.”
“I know,” Neal said. “I didn’t recognize the address right off. But as soon as I passed Jamie’s place and saw the house, I remembered.”
Anne fixed her gaze on the tea mug. What had he remembered? The last time he’d been here? He’d been treated to one of her mother’s phone tirades with her father. She raised her gaze to find him staring at her, his hazel eyes soft. He was remembering her mother’s scene and pitying her, like he had that night.
She straightened in her chair. Not everyone had parents like the Hazards. And she’d done just fine with her life, at least with her professional life. She had
a successful career. Two of them, in fact.
“So you know each other,” Harry said.
“We went to high school together,” Neal said.
“The one year Mom and I lived here with Grandma,” Anne corrected.
“I don’t remember that,” Harry said. “Must have been after I’d retired.” He took his glasses off and squinted at Neal and Anne.
Neal’s mouth twitched as if he were struggling not to smile.
“I knew all of my students by name when I was principal.” Harry replaced his glasses. “Nope,” he pronounced.
“Mr. Arnold was our principal,” Neal said.
“Arnold. Yeah. He did okay. I had my reservations when he was hired. He started out as a gym teacher, you know.”
Anne didn’t know if it was his age or his personality, but Harry didn’t hesitate to share his thoughts. Politically correct was not a phrase in his vocabulary.
He shielded his mouth and leaned across the table, dropping his voice to a loud whisper. “I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with a strange workman in the house. That’s why I stayed. But, since you two are old friends, I can see you’ll be fine.”
The half smile left Neal’s face.
Harry straightened. “I’m going to head off,” he said at full volume. “Edna invited me for dinner.”
Anne bit back the words that sprang to her lips. Harry might be a townie snob, but wouldn’t be that thoughtless on purpose. And she was sure Neal wouldn’t appreciate her defending him.
“You can leave your bill with Anne, and I’ll stop back for it tomorrow. Nice meeting you, Neal.”
“Nice meeting you.”
The older man left.
“He didn’t mean it,” Anne said.
Neal’s eyes narrowed.
“The workman thing.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line.
“And about Mr. Arnold only being a gym teacher.”
“I know. So, Harry’s an intellectual snob. I’m going to get that wire for the pump connection.”
He crossed the distance to the door in three long strides. She bit her lip. Was she an intellectual snob, too, pointing out what Neal obviously already knew?
* * *
Neal slammed the top to the toolbox shut. So that’s what Anne thought of him? He wrapped the wire around his hand. Harry’s remarks hadn’t bothered him that much. He was from a different generation. But when she made excuses for the older man, it was too much. He gripped the wire. He’d made his choices, choices he believed God had guided him to make. And most of the time he had no regrets.
Then, there were the few other times, like now. Anne’s dark-fringed eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion. Pity. It had to have been pity. Those times got him longing for things he’d given up and couldn’t recapture. Winning his fourth letter in baseball. He’d been too busy to play his senior year. Hanging out with the guys. The degree from RPI he’d once coveted.
He trudged up the stairs, wishing he had entrance to the house though the cellar doors out back instead. When he got to the kitchen, Anne was gone. His tense muscles relaxed. Anne, or maybe it was the whole college thing, dredged up feelings Neal thought he’d shed years ago. One thing he knew for sure, as soon as he had his schedule ironed out with her, he was going to switch academic advisors. A switch he was sure Anne would readily agree to.
* * *
Okay, she was a coward. Anne had stayed upstairs until she heard Neal’s truck pull away. When she went downstairs, his bill was on the table. She flicked on the kitchen and outside lights. Both came on immediately at full power with no flickering. She’d expected no less. He’d also left his business card. She didn’t know why that surprised her. He was a business owner. But Harry already had Neal’s number. Had he left it for her? A small tremor shook her hand as she picked it up.
The lightbulb graphic and Lake Electrics script matched the sign on his truck. Anne smiled. Below his business information was a quote.
And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and He separated the light from the darkness. —Genesis 1:3–4
Anne rubbed the card between her thumb and forefinger. At Michael’s insistence, she’d scrupulously kept her faith and business separate. Wouldn’t want to offend a client. She admired Neal for being so upfront and for pursuing the college experience he’d had to forego as a young adult.
She tucked the card in her pocket. As his academic advisor, she was going to do everything she could to make his college career a success.
Chapter Three
Neal pulled on his favorite long-sleeved T-shirt and well-worn jeans in anticipation of the college mixer. Not his first choice for a Friday night. But, for whatever reason, Autumn wanted him there. Maybe she just wanted company on the long drive to the main campus center in Saranac Lake. It wasn’t as if he had a heavy social schedule. In fact, all he’d done the past few weeks was go to classes, work, study, work. If nothing else, it would be fun seeing Autumn having a good time with her friends.
Autumn waved from her upstairs window as Neal pulled into her driveway. When he was deployed to Afghanistan last year, she and her best friend, Jule, had rented the in-law apartment above Jule’s aunt’s garage.
“Hey, Dad,” she said as she hopped in the truck. “Thanks for coming early. I want to make sure everything is set up like it’s supposed to be. I wish I could have found someone to swap clinicals with me this afternoon, so I could have gone over and supervised. Jack would have taken me before he went into work.”
“I’m sure everything is fine.”
“It probably is, but I’d feel better if I’d been there to supervise. I am the committee chair.” She glanced at her watch. “We should get there early enough for me to make any adjustments.”
“You know who you sound like now, don’t you?”
Autumn laughed. “Don’t tell me. Gram?”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.” He got a kick out of seeing his mother and sister in his daughter. Looking at her, Neal had trouble absorbing that this poised young woman was his baby girl.
“So, how are your classes going?” she asked.
“Not bad. Jeff Lawler and I are still working out the independent study in conservation.”
Neal had been relieved when he’d gotten his final schedule for the semester and saw that Jeff, and not Anne, was the supervising instructor for his independent study.
“He thinks he may be able to get me a work study with Green Spaces. That’s the engineering firm that’s assessing the environmental impact of the new birthing center Adirondack Medical Center is building in Ticonderoga.”
“Sounds cool. You’re a hands-on kind of guy anyway.”
Neal tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pressed down on the accelerator to pull around a car that was going just under the speed limit. Hands-on as opposed to intellectual? He’d gotten the same vibe from Anne’s landlord, and from her a little, too, for that matter. It made him want to point out that he’d been the salutatorian of his high school graduating class. He’d had early admission to RPI. Neal loosened his grip on the wheel. But that was all in the past. And truth be told, he liked being an electrician, having his own business.
“Yeah, it should be cool.” So far, the independent study promised to be the most interesting class this semester. The other classes were easy. He might as well be taking them online. But he’d wanted the whole college experience. And he was going to get it if it killed him, starting with this mixer thing tonight.
“Will Dr. Howard be meeting you at the mixer?”
Neal glanced at Autumn out of the corner of his eye to see if she was busting on him. She did take after Jinx. The teen’s expression was neutral.
“No, why would you ask?”
“She RSVP’d, so I just thought...”
“Why?”
“You’re seeing her, aren’t you? Jack saw your truck at Dr. Howard’s house and says you drive by his house about every day. He figured you were going to Dr. Howard’s up the road.”
“My truck was at Dr. Howard’s because her landlord hired me to replace the fuse box in the house. And I’ve been over that way dropping Myles off for Jamie on the days I’ve had jobs in Schroon Lake. He’s running cross-country. It saves Jamie and the girls from having to go back and pick him up after practice.” No need to mention the couple of times he’d stopped over at Anne’s afterward to check on how her lights were working. He could imagine how Autumn would view that. Anne hadn’t been home either time.
“Oh,” Autumn said in a small voice. “I was kind of hoping you were dating.”
Now Autumn really sounded like his mother. “Anyway, Dr. Howard should be there, and some other instructors.”
“So I won’t be the only old person.”
“Let’s just say there’ll be some age-appropriate people there.”
“Watch it. I could change my mind and turn around.”
“Daddy! You wouldn’t.”
“You know I wouldn’t.”
“Yeah.”
“Brat!”
For the rest of the drive, he half listened to Autumn fuss about the arrangements for the mixer and contemplated the other “age-appropriate” people who might be there. He certainly hadn’t planned to spend the evening with Anne. They’d been doing a good job of avoiding each other since he’d done the work at her house. She hadn’t come to Singles Plus for the past two weeks or to Community Church last Sunday. Jamie had said Anne was shopping around for the right church. Not that he’d asked—exactly.
Neal checked out the dashboard clock as he turned onto the campus. “Since it’s so early, I’m going to drop you at the student center and run over to the electrical supply store and pick up a few things.”
Small-Town Dad Page 3
