Too Good to Be True(102)



And yet it wasn’t Andrew I kept seeing here. Nope. I saw Callahan sitting in my kitchen, teasing me about my pajamas…Callahan holding my mother’s sculptures in his big hands…Cal shaking Angus off his foot, or sinking onto his knees because I hit him with the field hockey stick or cooking me an omelet and telling me everything about his past.

Before long, someone was going to buy the house next door. A family, maybe, or an older couple, or a single woman. Or even a single man.

I knew one thing. I didn’t want to see it. Almost without realizing it, I fished out the business card in my pocket and grabbed the phone. When Becky Mango answered, I simply said, “Hi, this is Grace Emerson and we just met. I’d like to sell my house.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

MANNING’S GRADUATION was the same day as Natalie’s rehearsal dinner. Classes had ended a week after Gettysburg, and I gave everyone except Kerry Blake an A+ for their participation. Kerry got a C, bringing her final mark to a dreaded B-and resulting in seven phone calls to the school from her enraged parents. As his final act as chairman of the history department, Dr. Eckhart upheld my grade. I would really miss that man.

The hall echoed as I made my way down to my classroom, which I’d spent yesterday cleaning. For the summer program in August, I’d be teaching a class on the American Revolution, but for the next two months, I wouldn’t be here. The familiar end of term lump came to my throat Looking around the room, I smiled at the sight of the picture, which Mallory had not only given me, but matted and framed, bless her heart. My seniors, my First Cavalry. I would never see most of those kids again. Maybe a few e-mails from some of my favorites for the next six months or so, but most of them would leave Manning and not return for years, if ever. But I planned on making a battle reenactment a permanent requirement for my class.

My gaze wandered to the huge copy of the Gettysburg Address, another of the Declaration of Independence, which I read aloud on the first day of school, in every class, every year. And in my continual effort to get the kids to feel a connection to our country’s history, I’d shamelessly covered the walls with movie posters. Glory. Saving Private Ryan. Mississippi Burning. The Patriot, Full Metal Jacket, Flags of Our Fathers. And on the back of the door, Gone With the Wind, tawdry enough that I felt it should be hidden from direct view. Scarlett’s bosom was scandalously exposed, and Rhett’s eyes bored into hers. Now that I’d seen the movie, I loved that poster more than ever.

The lump in my throat grew. Luckily, I was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. “Come in,” I called. It was Dr.

Eckhart.

“Good morning, Grace,” he said, leaning on his cane.

“Hello, Dr. Eckhart.” I smiled. “How are you?”

“A bit sentimental today, Grace, a bit sentimental. My last Manning graduation.”

“It won’t be the same without you, sir,” I said.

“No,” he agreed.

“I hope we can still meet for dinner,” I said sincerely.

“Of course, my dear,” he said. “And I’m sorry you didn’t make chairman.”

“Well. Sounds like they picked a winner.”

The new department chair was someone named Louise Steiner. She came to Manning from a prep school in Los Angeles, had significantly more administrative experience under her belt than either Ava or I and held a doctorate in European history and a master’s in American. In short, she’d kicked our butts.

Ava had been furious enough to break up with Theo Eisenbraun, Kiki told me. Ava was actively interviewing at other prep schools, but I didn’t really think she’d leave. Too much work, and Ava never was much of a worker.

“Will you be going to Pennsylvania this year?” Dr. Eckhart asked. “Or any other battle sites?”

“No,” I answered. “I’m moving this summer, so no travel for me.” I hugged the old man gently. “Thank you for everything, Dr. Eckhart. I’ll really miss you.”

“Well,” he harrumphed, patting my shoulder. “No need to get emotional.”

“Hello? Oh, damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Both Dr. Eckhart and I looked up. An attractive woman in her fifties with short gray hair and a classy linen suit stood in my doorway. “Hi, I’m Louise. Hello, Dr. Eckhart, nice to see you again. Grace, isn’t it?”

“Hi,” I said, going over to shake the hand of my new boss. “Welcome to Manning. We were just talking about you.



“I wanted to meet you, Grace, and talk about a few things. Dr. Eckhart showed me a copy of your presentation, and I loved the curriculum changes you came up with.”

“Thank you,” I said, shooting a look at Dr. E., who was examining his yellowed fingernails.

“Maybe we can have lunch next week, talk about things,” Louise suggested.

I smiled at Dr. Eckhart, then looked back at Louise. “I’d love to,” I said sincerely.

WHEN THE CAPS had been thrown and the children celebrated the accomplishment of not having flunked out, when the graduation brunch was over, I made my way back to the parking lot. I had about two hours to shower, change and head on over to Soleil, the site of my faked date with Wyatt Dunn and where Natalie’s rehearsal dinner would take place.

“Another school year gone,” said a familiar voice.

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