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Yet, I get the impression that they fight like this fairly often. I guess it’s true what they say about people in small towns having nothing much better to do than talk about one another.
“Well, if you know the story so well, why don’t you tell her then!” Amy says as she finishes her coffee.
The man turns to me and sighs. “I will. I have it on good authority that he has a meeting with the mayor later today about purchasing a rather sizeable piece of land. There’s been other talk that he’s already bought up a good chunk of the real estate on main street. Don’t anybody know what somebody like him could want with land all the way out here, but there are certainly more than enough rumors on the subject. Some people are mighty scared, others are thrilled. It’s about fifty-fifty, even split.”
Amy sighs. “That must be why everybody was congregating at the diner so early this morning… all of you stuffing your faces and gossiping like little Sally’s.”
“You’re just jealous because you didn’t wake up early enough to be invited!” he countered.
Amy smiles and nods at me. “He’s right. I did wanna go. But the idea that some stranger has come to town, making investments and such is awful strange.”
“If he makes good on his promise to finish upgrading the hospital though, I don’t much care what he does with the rest of the town.” The gym teacher admits finally as the bell rings overhead. “Well, back to the grind. Ladies, I’ll see you later.”
“Keep us updated!” Amy calls after him.
I find myself so much more invested in all of this small-town gossip than I thought I ever would be. What could anybody from New York City want with an obscure town like this, in what feels like the middle of nowhere? Maybe he’s just looking to buy a wholetownfor cheap and flip it like most people flip houses. Pretty huge ask.
At least knowing that he’s a man of means makes me feel a little better. It certainly explains the suit and designer shoes. A businessman looking to purchase more investment properties makes perfect sense…
I knew I was being paranoid by thinking that Nikolai must have sent somebody like him here for me. The world doesn’t revolve around me, after all. Even when I want it to—it doesn’t. As far as the world knows, Helena Russev is dead and long gone.
I can think of a dozen or so reasons that a well-off man like Daniel might want to invest in a place like this.
“What’s wrong with the hospital?” I ask Amy as I stand to help her put the items she has stacked up on the table in some semblance of order.
“Oh honey, I have a free period to grade papers. Don’t you worry about any of this crap now.” She pushes the largest stack into something close to a neat pile and starts searching her person for a red pen. “But to answer your question, there isn’t anythingwrongwith the hospital per se. It’s just old and poorly equipped. Our dear Martin there wants a better hospital because his wife has cancer. Better hospital and equipment are likely to attract better, newer doctors that could provide better treatment. Everything we have is so outdated. I suppose you could say that about most of the town… but we like it. That small-town charm isn’t so easy to find anymore, so we really gotta look out for one another, you know?”
“Well, then for all of our sakes, I really hope that he has nothing but good intentions,” I offer and pull out my own red pen to offer to her. She seems like the sort of woman that I will want to have as a friend. Plus, she and Martin, the gym teacher, both seem like the sort of people that will be able to tell me if anything is happening in this tiny town, maybe even before it happens.
For a woman who is living on the lam, I won’t balk at having them at my disposal.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Helena
Acouple more days and I think that I’m going to have the hang of this.
The hallways no longer seem too complicated to navigate, and I’m getting lost a hell of a lot less often. After lunch, one of the students actually asked me for help in finding one of their classrooms, and I successfully managed to walk them to class. Which probably isn’t the monumental victory that I’m taking it as… but I’m proud of myself anyway.
Principal Martinez does not appear to be nearly as strict as I expected. He's given me complete freedom to decorate my classroom and move freely between the auditorium and theclassroom. I'm starting to appreciate the ability to make more decisions for myself, even if they're as simple as where I want to have class for the day.
To honor the feeling of coming into my own at the school, I decide that I want to change things up a little bit. Instead of keeping things in my small classroom, I’ve decided to have lessons today in the auditorium. The soundproofing in that room needs to be updated, but I love the haunting equality that it provides. It dampens any sounds of voices and instruments much in the way that stone might inside of a cathedral.
Years of walking up and down the stage have warped it slightly. The heavy red velvet drapes on either side have most likely never been properly cleaned, but this is the one room in the entire school where something like that only adds to the ambiance. I'm not sure when the flickering fluorescent lights were replaced, but there's something charming about the space that I can't quite put my finger on.
Classes B, E, and Advanced Choir will meet in the Auditorium today.
I posted a note on the door to my classroom and locked it behind me before I pushed my cart full of instruments and materials all of the way down to the theater. The more I’m in the room, the more I thinkthisroom might be my favorite in the whole school—hell, in the whole town. The rows of folding bench seats are bolted to the floor like one might find in a baseball stadium. They do nothing to change the sound quality, but it will give my students plenty of spaces to choose from. If nothing else, I can use it to show them how sound changes depending on where you choose to sit inside a theater.
I set the small collection of instruments and chairs up on the center part of the stage. I finish faster than I thought I might, and that leaves me some time to practice. I would be more pleased with the setup if there were any noise-dampening fixtures, or even something like old carpets I could use, but I don’t find anything backstage. The only thing in the changing room is a stage makeup kit likely older than I am and a rack of torn costumes.
It will just have to do.
Unlike the crystal-clear quality of the music room, the notes from my cello seem to echo and bounce off of the walls. It’s like the difference between a shot of vodka and an espresso shot. I pull a chair to the center of the stage and take my seat. I’m careful to position the skirt of my dress carefully so that I can fit my cello between my knees and close my eyes. Mentally, I run down the list of musical pieces that I’ve had memorized since childhood. It doesn’t take long to summon one from the recesses of my mind. I play the notes over in my mind twice before I get into position.
Sliding my bow over the strings of my cello now makes me feel almostdirty. A strange part of me, that I refuse to pick apart, is hoping to look up at any moment and see Daniel standing at the far end of the room. I keep hoping to spy him leaning casually against the doors, like the first time I saw him.
I’m probably only obsessing over him because he’s nothing like the guys I’m leaving behind with Helena. Daniel might be the perfect bridge between my old world and new world if what they are saying about him is true.
