Page 56 of Within These County Lines

“I’m thinking Victor.”

Whitley chokes on her drink. “Victor? That might be even more trouble.”

“Yeah, well, options are limited.” I sigh. “Did you get in touch with any lifeguards for your research study yesterday?”

She sips her coffee again before answering. “Not yet. But I cannot wait to start. I ran into my dad as I was leaving yesterday and casually mentioned my research to him.” She grins. “He stuttered, like, ten times, then said, I didn’t know you were interested in that type of thing. It was perfect. I wanted to say, Yeah, well, you don’t know a lot of things about me, but I didn’t want to extend the interaction.”

I tap my fingers against my chin. If Victor turns me down, Whitley will absolutely force her dad to write a letter for me out of spite. I should probably stay out of that family drama . . . but desperate times, desperate measures.

“Have you talked to Murray since Saturday?” Whitley continues. “I still can’t believe he was ignoring you at my house after spending all year complaining about you ignoring him. Is this the kind of crap he pulled that made you break up with him?”

Before I can even open my mouth, two heads appear over the ledge of our cubicle. Whitley and I straighten our backs.

“Dad?” she asks, voice flat.

Mr. Wyomen leans against the cubicle wall, arms crossed; strands of his thin, wispy hair shift under the HVAC vent. His collar looks two sizes too big for his skinny neck.

And standing next to him, like a jump scare, is Victor. How did he sneak in without me noticing? I lick my lips, suddenly on edge.

Mr. Wyomen slides off his rectangular glasses. “Whitley,” he says. “Good morning.” Then nods at me. “Stetson, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” I answer stiffly.

A few awkward seconds pass.

Victor clears his throat. “So, Stetson, how’s that green pool of yours coming along? Did you find the files you were looking for?”

I swallow. “Um, kind of. I’m still working on it.”

“Well, don’t let me down.” He points at me with a lopsided grin. “Mary Jo says Whitley is doing great work, so I trust you’ll do the same.”

Great. Another person to potentially disappoint.

Whitley narrows her eyes. “Can we help you?” she asks.

Mr. Wyomen huffs, his face reddening as he scratches his eyebrow.

Victor chuckles. “Ah, the joys of working with the family,” he says.

“I wanted to tell Victor about your research,” Mr. Wyomen finally says.

Whitley’s jaw tightens. She presses her lips together, then forces a strained smile before scooting her chair toward them. “Okay.”

Victor perks up. “Research? We love hearing about student projects in the department. What’s the topic?”

Whitley folds her hands. “Well, it’s not exactly for the department. I’m assisting a graduate student at the University of Pittsburgh with a study about, um, transitional adulthood. We’re interviewing lifeguards in Penango about their experiences growing up.”

Victor nods, lips pursed. “Very impressive. Feel free to stop by my office if you ever need any advice. Not that I know anything about adulthood. I’m still figuring it out myself.” He bursts into a wheezy laugh that rattles the cubicle walls.

Whitley blushes. “Will do.”

“Smart kid you got here.” Victor claps Mr. Wyomen’s back too hard, causing him to cough.

After a moment, Mr. Wyomen catches his breath. “Well, I think we all have some work to do. Thanks for checking in with us, Whitley.” He waves before walking off with Victor.

Whitley watches him leave, then shoots me a look.

“Checking in,” she mutters. “He doesn’t get it. I’m his daughter, not his secretary.”