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Chapter 21
“Imight have misjudged his work.” Grace shook the dice and moved the car token seven spaces. “His writing isn’t poetic in the traditional sense, but it does have a spare kind of beauty that’s distinctive and quite powerful. Certainly it’s well suited to the themes of his novels.”
Ray made a noise in his throat. “So what you’re saying is he’s a good writer.”
A slight flush heated her face. She’d read two more of Lincoln’s novels over the past week, usually when he was still sleeping. Though objectively she couldn’t deny the hero’s journey and man-against-nature themes, she had a new appreciation for his deeply intense stories and characters.
She had a new appreciation forhim. All week, she’d been feeling the strangest, most wonderful things. She couldn’t even properly name them.
Words likejoy, exhilaration, pleasure, and evenhappinessall seemed too ordinary for the whirlwind spinning through her. It felt as if he were filling an empty space beside her that she hadn’t even known was there.
Every time she confessed something—her dislike of blue cheese, her adoration for bubble gum and 80s movies, the ridiculously long time it had taken for her to work up the courage to swim in the ocean—she knew her secrets were landing in a safe, judgement-free zone.
And in such a short time, he’d already figured out other things about her—what she liked sexually, of course, but also her more mundane preferences. He knew how she prepared her cereal in the morning, her lunch-packing routine, the way she organized her kitchen cabinets. Like he had in her classroom, he fit into her life with astonishing ease.
She just had to make sure she didn’t get too accustomed to him being there. She’d told him from the start that she didn’tneedhim to fit into her life, and she wasn’t about to “complicate” matters by changing that now.
“Eighty bucks.” Ray tapped New York Avenue, where Grace had landed.
“Oh, sorry.” She counted the money and handed it over.
Ray set the dice down. “Come on. We’re going to eat.”
“I thought you wanted to finish the game first.”
“No way can you strategize when you’re half out of your head thinking about Atwood.” Ray pushed himself out of his chair.
“I’m not…” Grace sighed. “Okay, I admit I’m a bit preoccupied with him.”
Ray zipped up his hoodie and eyed her speculatively. “When’s he leaving?”
“May twenty-eighth.” She picked up her purse.
He was leaving beforeA Midsummer Night’s Dreamopened, and she was already glad that she’d be extra busy with dress rehearsals and other preparations. She’d need to be occupied in order to avoid missing him. Hard.
The following night, she and Lincoln went to Sam and Brooke’s house for dinner. She’d met Brooke Castle a few times, but she was surprised by the effusive enthusiasm with which the other woman greeted her.
Despite the bitter history between the two brothers, the evening was highly enjoyable. Brooke was lively and fun, entertaining them with stories about a series she was working on for a New York magazine calledClarity, which happened to be a Folio Publishing holding. Sam and Lincoln were civil and conversational, and Brooke privately told Grace that after five years of not speaking, it was better than they could have hoped for.
“I’m going to interview Lincoln forThe Bliss Cove Gazetteafter his talk at the library.” Brooke sliced into a tiramisu and glanced toward the dining room, where Lincoln and Sam were still seated at the table. “My grandfather is going to put it on the front page of the paper.”
“You’re still working forTheGazette?” Grace held the plates out.
“Freelance, yup.” Brooke slid slices of the cake onto the plates. “The paper recently acquired a new investor, who shall remain anonymous, and I’ve started covering local stories again. When I got the job atClarity, I thought I’d focus on features intended for a wider audience, but then Gramps asked me to cover the opening of the new sea otter exhibit at the aquarium, and I got hooked back into it. It’s great to be able to do both—big features and Bliss Cove stories. Oh, I’m covering the production ofA Midsummer Night’s Dreamtoo. I’ll be contacting you for an interview.”
“That’s fantastic. Thank you.” Pleased that her students’ hard work would be acknowledged in the paper, Grace picked up the plates and started back to the dining room.
“Hey, Grace?”
She paused at the hesitant note in the other woman’s voice. Brooke wiped her hands on a dish towel. Her brow furrowed.
“Is something wrong?” Grace set the plates back on the counter.
“If this is inappropriate, feel free to tell me to back off,” Brooke said. “But my grandfather got a tip about the high-school football team’s budget. They were operating in the red for about three years before Spruce was hired, but ever since, they’ve had all this money for new uniforms, travel, camps, all sorts of stuff. And the money can’t only be coming from ticket sales and concessions.”
Tension ran down Grace’s spine. “It’s probably from the Literature department and drama club budgets, which he’s conveniently slashed. The problem is he has a right to reallocate funds, so no one’s been able to do anything about the imbalance. We all know he’s pushing athletics. I wouldn’t have a problem with that if he weren’t shortchanging other departments for his own agenda.”
“But he needs authorization for monetary transactions,” Brooke said. “Remember Mark Benson, the school bookkeeper? He’d had the job for over thirty years.”
