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Nicole came outside a few minutes later. “You’ll have to move your car so I can get out of the garage.”
“I’ll drive.” He opened the door for her and she shrugged. Tonight she was wearing a black outfit that was dressier than her casual look earlier in the afternoon. But the stage prop glasses and slightly altered makeup was some misdirection.
He’d already programmed the school’s address into his car’s GPS, wanting to focus on discussion with Nicole rather than the twists and turns to their destination. But making conversation proved difficult; he kept worrying about his sister, wondering if he should have stayed with her instead of going with Nicole.
“Is something wrong?” Nicole asked.
“I was just thinking. Did you hear how things went with Chelsea today?”
“Are you checking up on her, or the agency?”
He tensed. “I’m concerned about my sister. We had dinner and she was even quieter than usual.”
“Didn’t you ask how things went?”
Jordan turned where the GPS said to turn. “Yes, she said everything was fine.”
“Then why aren’t you taking her at her word?”
“You don’t know the circumstances. And I’m not going to tell you what they are,” he added hastily.
Nicole made a disgusted sound. “Next time you might wait until I ask before rushing to say you aren’t telling me something. It’s Chelsea’s information to share. She’s an adult. If she wants to tell me, she will. I’m not going to treat her like a child who can’t handle her life.”
He felt a surprising impulse to explain how awkward the evening had been. Chelsea was such a sweet kid and he always seemed to be saying or doing the wrong thing with her. But why had she gotten so upset by a plane ticket and him trying to buy her a cell phone? He thought it was the kind of thing that big brothers were supposed to do.
As they arrived at the school, his nerves were tight and he thought longingly of the relaxing weeks he’d spent in Fiji. Right now, between worry for his sister, the PostModern article series, and the subtly provocative dress Nicole was wearing, he felt as if sandpaper was being rubbed up and down his spine.
This just wasn’t going to be his month.
* * *
NICOLE TRIED TO ignore Jordan’s mood and concentrate on the stage, confirming her impressions of the singer and the play’s author. There was also a good comic moment that one of the freshmen pulled off. It hadn’t worked in the afternoon’s performance and was too short to know for certain, so she simply made a mental note of his name for future reference.
Yet the whole time she was aware of Jordan sitting next to her, and tried to visualize him as a huge, brooding question mark, rather than a man. She’d had little time for socializing lately, so surely it was natural for her to be more aware of him than normal.
During the final act, she stood quietly and they left the auditorium.
“Ms. George,” a voice called as they walked through the entrance hall. She turned and saw the principal.
“Hello, Mr. Dougherty,” she greeted.
“Good evening. Shall I keep you informed of future school events?”
“That would be helpful.”
“I’m grateful for your interest in our kids.” The principal glanced at Jordan. “Is this one of your fellow agents, or the friend you said would be attending earlier this afternoon?”
“He’s, um, the childhood friend I told you about. He also wanted to see the public performance of the play. Good night.”
“Oh, yes, the same to you.”
Outside they got into the car and Jordan drove onto the street as a few other attendees were reaching the parking lot.
“Do you think Dougherty will actually keep it confidential when you’re coming?” he asked. “Or that you were there today? I’m sure it would make him look good to parents and the school board if he told them you’d come to the performance.”
Nicole rolled her eyes. Jordan was a true skeptic about human nature. “Obviously I can’t guarantee it, but he’s a concerned administrator who cares about his students. Regardless, if we contact any of the kids, they might tell their friends. That’s probably a bigger risk than Mr. Dougherty spilling the beans.”
