Remembrance (The Mediator #7)(104)

“Wow.” Debbie’s tone was flat. “I guess the Mission Academy offers special services to some of their students, the ones with fathers who are huge donors. If my dad coughed up a hundred thousand donation, would my girls get special home visits, too?”

“I did pay your girls a home visit this week, Debbie, remember? No hundred thousand donation necessary.”

“Right.” She snorted. “That was for some class you’re taking. Don’t pretend like it was because you or anyone else at that school cares about the girls.”

I reached out and grabbed her arm before she could move past me on the stairs.

“Actually, Debbie, I do care about your girls.”

I was anxious to get down to Jesse, but I knew I had to attend to this little matter first. It was another one of Paul’s messes I felt obligated to clean up.

“That test I conducted at your house showed that your girls are gifted—really gifted, Debbie. And I was wondering if you’d be interested in enrolling them in this new program I heard about through the school I go to.”

Debbie stopped trying to continue up the stairs and lowered her sunglasses so she could stare at me over their gold frames, intrigued. There was nothing most parents loved hearing more than the word gifted, especially when applied to their own child.

“It’s really exclusive—and very expensive,” I went on quickly. Debbie had to lean in to hear me above the pound of the surf. “But I think I can get the girls a scholarship, so it would be free.”

Lord help me if she ever found out I was the program.

But Debbie’s interest sharpened perceptibly at the other magic word. “Free? Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Positive.”

“What test was it that showed that the girls are gifted? I mean, their father and I have always thought they’re gifted, but Sister Monica and especially that cow Sister Ernestine seem to think the opposite.”

“Their father? You mean Brad.” I studied her reaction carefully.

“Of course I mean Brad, Suze.” She whipped off her sunglasses to squint at me in the strong sunlight. “Who else would I mean? What is wrong with you? Have you been sampling Jake’s wares? You know you should lay off that stuff, especially if you’re going to be driving.”

She wasn’t bluffing. Debbie truly believed that Brad was the father of her children, and that I, as usual, was the one with the problem.

And who was I to disabuse her of that notion? Wasn’t it better for everyone that she—and Brad—go on believing this? I thought so, at least for now. Baby steps. One secret at a time.

“It’s a new test,” I said with a shrug. “Sometimes highly creative and intelligent children can be a challenge, especially to educators who are already overburdened with so many other students. But I think this program could really help the girls. It’s after school.”

“Wow.” She smiled, slipping her sunglasses back into place. Smiling, Debbie actually looked like a nice person. “That sounds really great, Suze. You know, I’ve been thinking for a while about going back to school myself. But it’s been so hard with the girls and all.”

“Well,” I said with a smile. “Maybe now you’ll have the time. There’s only one small problem.”

The smile disappeared. “What’s that?”

“In order for the girls to qualify for the scholarship, you’ll have to show proof that they’ve at least started their vaccinations. This program doesn’t allow for medical or religious exemptions from immunizations. Something about wanting to stop the spread of disease to unvaccinated newborns and those with compromised immune systems?”

Debbie scowled. “Oh. That.”

“Yeah. That. I’m really sorry. It doesn’t seem like such a huge compromise to me, though, since you’re going to have to do it anyway—unless you plan on taking them out of the Mission Academy entirely and homeschooling them.”

She’d been gazing out toward the sea until I dropped the H-bomb. Then she whipped her head toward me. “Homeschool? No. No, I don’t think so. I’ll have to talk to Brad.” She fumbled in her tote for her cell phone. “But I think he’ll agree. Keeping them at the academy and then enrolling them in this gifted thing would probably be best. Oh, no, look at the time. I gotta motor. Kelly’s hired a personal chef, and he made salmon.” She lifted the skirt of her maxi dress and began to run up the steps. “Thanks, Suze, for all the help. By the way, I think I saw Jesse waiting for you, down at the beach.”

“Yes,” I said with a smile. “You did.”





treinta y cinco


I never in a million years thought I’d be so happy to see my nearly twenty-year-old Land Rover.

Of course, it was more the sight of the figure leaning against the utility vehicle that made my heart beat a little quicker. His fingers were tucked loosely into the front pockets of his formfitting jeans, his dark hair tossed a little by the strong wind from the beach. He was perfectly unconscious of my approach (the soles of my second-best butt-kicking boots were rubber). He seemed transfixed by the sight of the sea.

Or maybe he was napping behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. He’d had a long night, after all.

“How on earth did you know I was here?” I asked after I’d pulled up beside him and was getting out of the BMW.