that?” Or man?
“Someone who’s human.”
“I’d never destroy my family like that.” Jack had that covered.
“Listen, Saint Mari, none of us are perfect. Not even you. Who knows what went on between Kipling and Susan. Maybe Kipling had a heavy hand. It’s not your place to judge.”
“It’s still hard to believe Susan … of all people.” With her cheerful spirit and cute brunette bob, she reminded me of a modern-day Mary Tyler Moore in her Laura Petrie days. Devoted to family and husband. Though even I had to admit Peter Kipling was no Dick Van Dyke.
“What’s done is done. They’re not together, so forget it.” He leaned back in Henderson’s chair and propped his feet on the desk. Dirt sloughed off his boots.
“You better clean that up.”
He saluted me and brushed the dirt from the desk. “Let’s focus on more interesting matters.” Fletcher pointed to the tenure letters in my hand.
“I’d love to stay and chat, really, but I’ve got my own problems to deal with.” I set the papers down.
“Jack’s check bounce?”
“No. It’s my brother, Matt. And I’m running late.”
“One little peek? I promise it’ll be worth it.”
“Fine.” I shuffled through the papers, stopping at the document detailing a dozen accusations of Henderson’s sexual misconduct with students over the last five years. “Do you believe all this?”
“Actually, no. I knew several of those girls when they were freshmen. There’s no way they’d go for Henderson over me.”
I smacked him across the head with the stack of papers. “Maybe someone should’ve filed a sexual harassment suit against you?”
“Touché. But I would never pursue a relationship with a student, just a co-worker.” He raised his eyebrows twice, and I wished I had a syringe full of Botox to paralyze his facial muscles.
I threw the papers on the desk. “Sorry, I don’t have time for this, as amusing as it is.” I glanced at my watch. “I need to go. If you really meant what you said about helping, can you finish cleaning without me?”
Fletcher sat up, a protest forming on his lips.
“You owe me.”
“I’m really sorry about that.”
The guy looked like a lost cub. “Turns out I might not have blown my chance at KTXL.”
Fire returned to his countenance. “Great. You’ll have to fill me in.”
“Can’t. I’m in a hurry.” I walked toward the door.
“How about at dinner tonight?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I’m buying.”
“I promised I’d be home for dinner. The last time I ate a hot meal with the kids was almost a week ago. Besides, we’re having lasagna.”
“Did you make it?”
“No.”
“Then lasagna it is.”
I checked my watch and groaned. “Fine. 7:00 sharp.”
“I’ll bring the wine.”
“No wine.” I cringed as my mind shot to the last time Fletcher and I shared a toast too many.
“Then I’ll have to intoxicate you with dazzling conversation.”
Maybe I’d better take my chances with the wine.
CHAPTER EIGHT
11:59 a.m.
Lyndon University Parking Lot
THE DECEMBER SUN SHONE overhead as I maneuvered past rushing college students and headed toward the faculty parking lot. With each step, my temperature rose, and it wasn’t because the thermometer read seventy-two, several degrees above normal for this time of year.
What could I say to Matt’s vice principal and the boy’s parents to assure them my brother had a momentary lapse of sanity, that deep down he wasn’t a juvenile delinquent, that he deserved a second chance?
I bit my lip. No denying it. He was his father’s son.
Between hungry college students and those late for finals, LU’s parking lot buzzed with vehicles coming and going, dodging wayward pedestrians who darted out between parked cars. I covered my ears as a souped-up engine revved, then I checked both ways before stepping into vehicular chaos. I spied my BMW on the other end of the parking lot.
“Mari, wait.” Elizabeth jogged toward me, almost
“Someone who’s human.”
“I’d never destroy my family like that.” Jack had that covered.
“Listen, Saint Mari, none of us are perfect. Not even you. Who knows what went on between Kipling and Susan. Maybe Kipling had a heavy hand. It’s not your place to judge.”
“It’s still hard to believe Susan … of all people.” With her cheerful spirit and cute brunette bob, she reminded me of a modern-day Mary Tyler Moore in her Laura Petrie days. Devoted to family and husband. Though even I had to admit Peter Kipling was no Dick Van Dyke.
“What’s done is done. They’re not together, so forget it.” He leaned back in Henderson’s chair and propped his feet on the desk. Dirt sloughed off his boots.
“You better clean that up.”
He saluted me and brushed the dirt from the desk. “Let’s focus on more interesting matters.” Fletcher pointed to the tenure letters in my hand.
“I’d love to stay and chat, really, but I’ve got my own problems to deal with.” I set the papers down.
“Jack’s check bounce?”
“No. It’s my brother, Matt. And I’m running late.”
“One little peek? I promise it’ll be worth it.”
“Fine.” I shuffled through the papers, stopping at the document detailing a dozen accusations of Henderson’s sexual misconduct with students over the last five years. “Do you believe all this?”
“Actually, no. I knew several of those girls when they were freshmen. There’s no way they’d go for Henderson over me.”
I smacked him across the head with the stack of papers. “Maybe someone should’ve filed a sexual harassment suit against you?”
“Touché. But I would never pursue a relationship with a student, just a co-worker.” He raised his eyebrows twice, and I wished I had a syringe full of Botox to paralyze his facial muscles.
I threw the papers on the desk. “Sorry, I don’t have time for this, as amusing as it is.” I glanced at my watch. “I need to go. If you really meant what you said about helping, can you finish cleaning without me?”
Fletcher sat up, a protest forming on his lips.
“You owe me.”
“I’m really sorry about that.”
The guy looked like a lost cub. “Turns out I might not have blown my chance at KTXL.”
Fire returned to his countenance. “Great. You’ll have to fill me in.”
“Can’t. I’m in a hurry.” I walked toward the door.
“How about at dinner tonight?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I’m buying.”
“I promised I’d be home for dinner. The last time I ate a hot meal with the kids was almost a week ago. Besides, we’re having lasagna.”
“Did you make it?”
“No.”
“Then lasagna it is.”
I checked my watch and groaned. “Fine. 7:00 sharp.”
“I’ll bring the wine.”
“No wine.” I cringed as my mind shot to the last time Fletcher and I shared a toast too many.
“Then I’ll have to intoxicate you with dazzling conversation.”
Maybe I’d better take my chances with the wine.
CHAPTER EIGHT
11:59 a.m.
Lyndon University Parking Lot
THE DECEMBER SUN SHONE overhead as I maneuvered past rushing college students and headed toward the faculty parking lot. With each step, my temperature rose, and it wasn’t because the thermometer read seventy-two, several degrees above normal for this time of year.
What could I say to Matt’s vice principal and the boy’s parents to assure them my brother had a momentary lapse of sanity, that deep down he wasn’t a juvenile delinquent, that he deserved a second chance?
I bit my lip. No denying it. He was his father’s son.
Between hungry college students and those late for finals, LU’s parking lot buzzed with vehicles coming and going, dodging wayward pedestrians who darted out between parked cars. I covered my ears as a souped-up engine revved, then I checked both ways before stepping into vehicular chaos. I spied my BMW on the other end of the parking lot.
“Mari, wait.” Elizabeth jogged toward me, almost
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