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“Hello there,” Jordan said, “the best United Nations representative west of New York that I’ve had the honor of meeting.”
Hannah smiled coyly. “Thanks,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
“When’s your regionals?” he asked.
“Mom, when is it?” Hannah looked at her.
“There’s time. It’s in San Francisco, right before Halloween,” Hope replied.
“Will you judge there?” Hannah asked, her head bent back so she could look up at Jordan.
He smiled. “No. They didn’t invite me.”
“And if Miss Miles invites you?”
“I don’t think she can or will,” he said, his gaze briefly crossing paths with Hope’s.
“Can I invite you?” Hannah asked.
Hope snapped her head to look at him just when he looked at her.
“I’m sure Jordan is very busy,” she said.
“I’ll have to check,” Jordan said, his smile on Hannah.
“Okay.” Hannah hesitated then added, “Do you want to see my room?”
“If your mother agrees,” he replied, looking at Hope.
“Jordan has to go and check a burst pipe in Libby’s house,” Hope explained. “We should let him get to it.”
“Just for a minute,” Hannah said. “I’ll just show him my new globe.”
“It’ll just be a minute,” Jordan echoed, looking at Hope with a smile and a half-wink.
As soon as he followed Hannah into the hall leading to the bedrooms, Hope quickly stacked the papers on the dining table and shoved Hannah’s shoes under the coffee table. She halted to look at the laundry waiting on the couch but decided there was nothing she could do with it at this point. Remembering that the bedrooms weren’t in a much better shape, she darted toward them, at least to close the door to hers so he wouldn’t see the bed that was rumpled mostly on one side. After Eric had moved out, having the bed just for herself used to be a silver lining, but after a while, she missed having a warm body there that was taller than five feet.
“I did, but I knew how to talk my way out of it,” she heard Jordan say. “It’s okay if you don’t know exactly how. It’s better to say what you want instead of bottling it and then …” He must have done some pantomime instead of ending the sentence because she could hear Hannah giggle.
Hope pressed her fingers to her lips. She didn’t want them to know she was eavesdropping.
“Yeah. Brittney, she could make even … even Gandhi explode,” Hannah exclaimed.
Hope took a deep breath. Her daughter was telling him things that she herself had to work hard to get out of her.
She tiptoed closer, glad that she was barefoot, just as Jordan’s voice was heard again.
“I know the type,” he said. “They’re everywhere. But—and remember this because it’s an important but—you have to do it with style, okay? Don’t yell, don’t insult, just say why something isn’t fair or isn’t working. Try not to cry right then—it’s okay to cry afterward—and don’t ever, under any circumstance, use bad words. Those give you away immediately. You can say them in your heart, but don’t tell your mom I said that.”
“Mommy, what are you doing?” Naomi’s voice startled her from behind.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said in an everything’s normal over here voice. “I was just putting some things away. You two left so much stuff in the living room.”
To ensure no one thought she was lying, she entered Hannah’s room as if she had been on her way there.
Jordan was sitting on the edge of Hannah’s bed while she was on her rolling student chair across from him, holding her globe.
Surrounded by all the pinks and lilacs, the stuffed animals and cuddly dolls, Jordan looked gigantic and rugged with that stubble on his jaw.
