“You can’t tell that by looking.”
“You can’t.” He grinned. “I certainly can.” He waved a hand at me. “If that was the end of your weekend tale, I am very disappointed in you.”
I chewed my thumbnail while I debated whether I should tell him about Sebastian.
“Ah ha!” He pointed at my thumb. “I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“Whenever you go Bucky Beaver on your thumbnail, something’s bothering you. Out with it.”
“That’s not true.” I dropped my hand to my lap where it joined its sister in a death grip.
“It is.” He dropped the rest of the mail he’d been holding on the corner of my desk and crossed his arms over his navy blue sweater vest. “Spill.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
He glowered as much as the Botox allowed. “My last boyfriend was a liar, and you know what happened to him.”
“I was there, remember? I’m the one who helped you hide sardines under his driver’s seat and Saran wrap his car.”
“Keep that in mind. Now tell me your tale before Headmaster Grinsley notices I’ve been gone too long and orders me back to be her little bitch.”
“It’s nothing.” When his frown deepened, I hurried along, “Well, there was this guy.”
“Yes.” He fist pumped. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Go on.”
“He’s the CEO of the forestry company where Link works.”
Gregory rubbed his palms together. “Money, money, money. Continue.”
“We danced. He was, I don’t know…” How could I describe the murky feeling? “There was something about him.”
“Good looking?”
“Yes, in a dark sort of way. But there was more. Like he has secrets bubbling beneath his surface.”
“I love a man with a past.” He sighed. “How old?”
“I don’t know. Probably early thirties.”
“Mmm. He sounds tasty. Are you thinking of ditching Link for this guy?”
“Whoa.” I held my hands up. “Your imagination is running wild. It was one dance with Link’s boss. No. Link and I are—”
“Not doing the deed.” He crinkled up one side of his mouth in disapproval. “That says a lot.”
“No it doesn’t. And I intend to take that step soon, but not until I know I’m ready.”
“When will you know?”
I leaned forward and began flipping through my mail. “I just will.”
“Sure. Sounds legit.”
“Your sarcasm is noted.” I pulled a letter from the stack. “Interesting.” Rainforest Fund was stamped at the top, and my name and address were written in a bold hand.
“I’ve got to finish my deliveries.” Gregory scooped up the rest of the mail as I slid my finger down the flap. “I’ll see you after school for some much needed liquid refreshment and Mexican food. La Conchita’s at six.”
“All right. See you there.” I slid out a letter, the paper heavy in my hands.
The door clicked closed as I unfolded the paper. I read each word, my eyes growing wider as I went. When I finished reading, I sat back and stared at the cream paper and matching envelope. My dream expedition had just landed in my lap. An offer to work as a staff biologist on a mission to the Amazon rainforest that would focus on a particular area of the canopy. It even included airfare, thanks to some extra funding from big pharma.
With shaking hands, I re-read the letter. Dr. Weisman had recommended me so highly that the expedition’s lead scientist had “no choice” but to hire me right away. I squeed so loud that Dr. Potts paused in his lecture next door before resuming his monotone.
This was it. My chance. The one I’d been waiting for. And there was nothing that could stand in my way.
5
Camille
“Why do you always dress like a schoolteacher?” Veronica pranced around her bedroom in a thong with a matching red bra. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back in an unruly mane of waves and curls.
“Because I am a schoolteacher.” I sat on her bed as she walked into her closet. “And I’m not going out to find a date. I already have one.”
“Sure, but you dressed like that before you and Link even got together.” Her voice floated out of her closet and into her bedroom. “You dress like your mom.” She cursed quietly, then poked her head out of the closet. “I’m sorry. That was stupid. I was just trying to make you laugh. You know I always thought Freesia had a great sense of style, perfect for an older dame like her.”
“It’s okay.” My mother, Freesia, had passed a year ago from cancer, and my father just six months after. He’d always been so tangled up in her, their love one for the storybooks, that he seemed to fade a little more each day after her funeral. One cold fall day, he disappeared, too.
I’d mourned them in my own way, and I still thought of them every day. My mom’s green thumb was the main reason I became interested in plants when I was a child. Link and Veronica had been my support system since their passing. Veronica’s worried eyes spurred me to add, “Mom did have her own brand of style. Cornered the market on vegetable-print scarves.”