Smoky Mountain Reunion. Lynnette Kent
down the stairs. “That’s a pretty fancy carrying case for a box turtle.”
“I got a ride from the highway,” Garrett explained. “It was the coolest car, Dad, with a fridge and a food cabinet and everything. The lady in the car gave me the suitcase.”
Mason stopped, braced his hands on his hips and glared at his son. “What have I told you about accepting rides from strangers?” The drawl had hardened, developed a sharp edge.
“It’s okay, Dad. She’s a teacher.” At the bottom of the staircase, Garrett led the way to where Nola stood, paralyzed, beside Jayne Thomas. “See? Ms. Shannon said she’d be working here. With you. So I knew it would be okay.”
Nola watched Mason’s deep brown gaze widen with shock as he realized who she was. She’d changed her appearance since twelve years ago, but she was still too tall and too thin, with washed-out blue eyes and pale, straight hair.
When he didn’t say anything, she swallowed hard and forced herself to smile. “Hello, Mason. It’s good to see you again.”
“Nola!” The shock in his eyes transformed into pleasure. “Welcome back! I had no idea…” He looked at Jayne Thomas. “Did I know Nola would be teaching here?”
The headmistress shook her head in mock dismay. “There were only about five memos on the topic in your box. She’s substituting for Maryann Lawrence during her maternity leave.”
Mason winced. “I tend to ignore those. Sorry.” Before Nola could prepare herself, he settled his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “That’s okay—the surprise is terrific. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Thanks.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as faint as she felt. He smelled so good, like limes and evergreens and mountain air. His mouth was firm against her skin, his shoulders broad as he came so near.
“And this, I take it,” he said, stepping back, “is…was your suitcase?” He peered down into the bag, then looked up at her, one eyebrow lifted. “I don’t think you’ll want it back.”
“Um, probably not.” She returned his grin with a smile. “Garrett can keep it for collecting purposes.”
“Cool,” Garrett said. “Dad, I need to get Homer some water. Can I take him to your lab?”
“Sure. Just don’t let him loose—the cleaning staff doesn’t like wildlife in the hallways.”
As the boy went back up the stairs, Jayne Thomas said, “I think that pretty much covers our interview, Nola. I just wanted to say welcome and encourage you to call me with any questions you have. The faculty meeting starts in ten minutes. You remember the way to the library?”
“Of course. Can I tell my driver where to take my luggage?”
“I’ve put you in Pink’s Cottage. I’ll have my secretary give him directions and a key.”
With a nod, the headmistress went back through the door into the office suite. Nola was aware of all the girls in the entry hall watching her out of the corners of their eyes. For them, this was just the arrival of a new teacher. They didn’t know the history behind her meeting—her reunion—with Mason Reed.
After an awkward pause, Mason cleared his throat. “You didn’t attend the five-year reunion for your class.”
“I was at Oxford on a fellowship. I couldn’t get back.”
He nodded, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “So I heard. You’ve made a real success of your career. Not too many mathematicians are close to having Ivy League tenure before they reach the age of thirty.”
Nola tried for a light response. “I had a terrific mentor in high school. He helped me believe I could do anything I wanted.”
Mason’s one-sided smile acknowledged the compliment. “A very smart man.” He gestured toward the stairs, walking beside her as she set her feet on steps worn into curves by decades of student use. “I’ve read your papers. Brilliant, of course. Your Domino corollary, alone, would have secured you a place in the mathematics hall of fame. If there is one.”
She gave an embarrassed laugh. “I’m glad there’s not.”
They reached the top of the stairs and moved into the north wing, along a hallway leading past literature and language classrooms toward the library.
“I have to admit I’m puzzled,” Mason said. “Most graduates of Hawkridge send money as their contribution to the school. Very few return to do the work themselves.”
He stopped and turned to look at her, his head cocked to one side. “What really brings you back, Nola Shannon? Why are you here?”
Nola kept her chin up, holding his gaze with her own. But she couldn’t answer his question.
Because, at that moment, she couldn’t remember what she’d come for—or what she’d planned to do when, after twelve long years, she once again stood face-to-face with Mason Reed.
MASON WINCED as he heard his own words. “And I sound like a nosy old geezer,” he said, watching a rosy blush flow across Nola’s cheeks. “What I should have said was that I’m really proud of you, and I appreciate your willingness to help out.”
The girl he remembered would have stared at the floor in embarrassment. But this new Nola didn’t look away, though the tint in her cheeks deepened. “I’m glad. I…I’ve thought about you often.”
He had forgotten the color of her eyes—a pale blue-gray, like shadows on fresh snow. She’d been thin as a teenager and remained so, but the ash-blond hair he remembered hanging halfway down her back was now cut into short, tousled wisps that revealed the shape of her head and set off her delicate pearl-pink ears. The transformation—and his visceral reaction to it—completely confused him.
“I guess the last time I saw you was graduation day.” He paused at the door of the library, aware of the teachers inside waiting to meet their new colleague, aware that he wanted to keep her all to himself. “You’re not eighteen anymore.”
“No.” She looked away for a second. “I’m sorry about Ms. Chance…Your wife. Garrett told me.”
Mason took a deep breath against the familiar twist in his gut. “That’s right. She taught here your last year, didn’t she? I wish she had known you better. She was very good for the girls.”
Before Nola could reply, a coffee-colored hand with long red, white and blue nails clamped on to her arm.
“Mason Reed,” the owner of that hand said, in a loud, rich voice, “you cannot monopolize our new teacher. You bring her in to meet the rest of us right this minute!”
“Alice Tolbert,” Mason said, making an introductory gesture toward the short, plump chair of the literature department. “She serves as unofficial faculty den mother.”
Alice gave a decisive nod. “Somebody has to keep this crowd in line. Poor Tommy can’t do it all herself.”
Nola’s brows drew together. “Tommy?”
Mason grinned. “That’s the girls’ nickname for Jayne Thomas. Pretty much everybody calls her Tommy now, though not usually to her face.”
“Come on,” Alice insisted, drawing Nola after her into the library. “We’re all dying to talk to you.”
Following Alice and Nola into the library, Mason found a place in the back row of study tables and took a seat. Alice managed to present Nola to every member of the faculty, taking her from group to group with the kind of efficiency an army general would admire. As the headmistress stepped up to the podium, Alice pulled out a chair for Nola at the front table, offered her a notepad and pen, then sat down beside her with an air of satisfaction.
Nola looked shell-shocked, Mason thought, but anybody would, running a gauntlet like the Hawkridge faculty