“It’s not too late,” he said. “We’re just starting.”
“So good,” she said, clapping her hands and coming right up to him. She smelled faintly of perfume. “You are a tall one, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Damon said, embarrassed. “I’m on the basketball team.”
“‘Ma’am’?” she drawled, sounding offended. “You make me sound like some old crone. I’m only twenty-six. You?”
Damon glanced inside the Commons door, where one of the dads was eyeing him and the woman. “I’ll be eighteen in January.”
“Almost a man,” she said.
“Right,” he said, feeling his cheeks flush. “We should go in.”
“Of course,” she said gaily, and started through the door. “What is your name, tall boy tour guide?”
“Damon,” he said, following her. “Damon Cross.”
“I’m Karla Mepps. Don’t you forget my name now, Damon. Karla Mepps,” she drawled, and sidled into the dining hall, leaving the light scent of perfume in her wake.
Damon followed, fascinated. He’d never had anyone like Karla Mepps on a campus tour before. He’d never smelled anyone like her before.
But instead of engaging her in further conversation, he returned to the task at hand, describing the meal plans and the times of day when Commons was open. After answering several questions about lactose intolerance and the availability of gluten-free items, he ushered his group outside again, heading toward the library.
“You do this a long time?” Karla Mepps asked, sliding alongside him.
“Two years,” Damon said, feeling flushed again. “It’s fun.”
“You are very good at it,” she replied. “You make me want to tell my nephew to come to school here.”
“Nephew?”
“My sister’s son, Jack, who’s fourteen,” she explained. “They live in New Orleans, but they knew I was in the area and asked me to come have a look.”
“We have students from all over,” he said. “Sorry, I’ve got to—”
“No, no,” Karla Mepps said, smiling warmly at him. “You go ahead, finish. I’m enjoying your presentation.”
Damon got in front of the tour group and began delivering his usual spiel about the library, the number of volumes, the databases, Internet access, hours of operation, and the like. Then he led them through one of the dorms, showed them a typical room for underclassmen, before a trip through the sports complex.
Karla Mepps didn’t talk to him at all the rest of the tour, but Damon kept looking her way to find her gazing at him with a knowing little smile, as if she found him funny, amusing. He lost sight of her after he’d returned the group to the admissions office and started talking about the interview process and what they could expect on the application.
Where had she gone? Damon wondered, then shrugged it off.
Ten minutes later, after signing out with the tour coordinator, Damon went outside. It was almost four, and a chilly breeze was blowing. He’d go to the gym for an hour or so, eat, and then hit the books. He always studied better after working out and he had a tough test coming up in—
“Oh, there you are, Damon!” Karla Mepps cried.
The boy turned to see her coming toward him with that knowing little smile again. “Sorry, I had to use the ladies’ toilet, but I have some more questions. Can I buy you a cup of coffee, sugar?”
He hesitated.
“Oh,” she said, crestfallen. “You have somewhere important to go?”
“No,” Damon said. “No, nothing like that. Of course we can go get coffee. There’s a shop just off campus, across the street.”
“You are such a good tour guide,” Karla Mepps said, falling in beside him. “Tell me, how is the social life here at Kraft?”
“It’s mostly class, books, and athletics for me,” he replied. “But we have dances with our sister school, Beech Glen, outside Tanglewood.”