blue eyes that were sharp and cynical.
“I’m new, yes,” Molly replied carefully, and he gave a little laugh, pushing off from the door frame to stroll laconically over to her and hold out a hand.
“I’m Luke Michaels, one of the older ones.”
Molly took his hand, surprised by the strength and certainty in his grip. He smiled, and she wondered how much of that air of bored cynicism was just that... an air. “How long have you been teaching here?”
“Six years.” He pulled a face. “I’m always trying to get out, but finding a job in a decent school can be tough.”
“Is that so.” Molly heard the touch of asperity in her voice, and Luke heard it too and laughed again.
“There’s nothing like a teacher with the ink barely dried on her certificate to make you feel old. Don’t worry, it won’t take long before you’re just like me, marking time and looking for another job. These kids don’t want to learn.” His glance fell on Molly’s sheaf of papers. “’Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’? Robert Frost?” He raised his eyes to meet hers, and Molly felt a little jolt at the flicker of compassion she saw there. “One of my favourite poems. But you know these kids haven’t seen a horse outside of Central Park? To them the country means Staten Island.”
“Well, then, I’ll enlighten them,” Molly said stiffly. She felt herself flushing and wished she wouldn’t.
“Or they’ll enlighten you,” Luke returned, smiling almost gently to take the sting from his words. “If you’re up to it, I’ll take you out for a coffee after school one day this week. Or perhaps a stiff drink? You’ll need it.”
Molly swallowed. The last thing she wanted was to go out with someone as cynical and jaded as Luke Michaels, but she didn’t want to make an enemy her first day of school. She wanted to make a friend. “Thank you,” she finally managed. “That would be nice.”
The first period bell rang, and Luke gave her a mock salute. “To those who are about to die...” he grinned. “Good luck, newbie.”
Molly nodded, trying to smile, her throat suddenly dry. A steady stream of adolescents came in through the doors, and her eyes widened as she took in their already bored, speculative expressions as they jostled one another, exchanging jokes--some of which made Molly flush again. She glanced down at her papers, fussily arranging them as she sought to compose herself.
Everyone was seated, yet the chatter and joking still flew around the room and Molly cleared her throat. No one heard--or perhaps no one bothered to listen--and she did it again, so it hurt a little bit.
“Good morning--” Her voice wavered and not one person even glanced her way. Molly felt her flush intensifying, a prickly heat crawling along her skin. She was going to sink on her very first day, her first minute, and after all her dreams...
Her glance stole inadvertently to the door, and behind the striped pane of glass she saw Luke Michaels smile and give her a thumbs up. The simple gesture buoyed her for that crucial moment, and she spoke again.
“Good morning!” Her voice came out in a near boom, and the class was startled into silence. Molly smiled and moved from behind her desk. “My name is Miss Marshall, and we’re going to start with a poem today...” Moving with firm purpose between the rows of chairs, Molly began handing out the sheets of paper. Her gaze stole once more to the door, but Luke Michaels had already gone.
“Why don’t you come here?” As soon as Lynne said the words, she knew it was the right thing to do. She felt it when Jessica asked with a little choked laugh,
“Do you mean it?”
“Of course I do.” In the last four hours Lynne had discovered more of Rob and Guy’s duplicity. Guy had never had any intention of financing the hotel; he’d merely wanted Jessica’s savings to augment his own. She still wasn’t sure if Rob was a dupe or a deceiver, but it hardly mattered at this
“I’m new, yes,” Molly replied carefully, and he gave a little laugh, pushing off from the door frame to stroll laconically over to her and hold out a hand.
“I’m Luke Michaels, one of the older ones.”
Molly took his hand, surprised by the strength and certainty in his grip. He smiled, and she wondered how much of that air of bored cynicism was just that... an air. “How long have you been teaching here?”
“Six years.” He pulled a face. “I’m always trying to get out, but finding a job in a decent school can be tough.”
“Is that so.” Molly heard the touch of asperity in her voice, and Luke heard it too and laughed again.
“There’s nothing like a teacher with the ink barely dried on her certificate to make you feel old. Don’t worry, it won’t take long before you’re just like me, marking time and looking for another job. These kids don’t want to learn.” His glance fell on Molly’s sheaf of papers. “’Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’? Robert Frost?” He raised his eyes to meet hers, and Molly felt a little jolt at the flicker of compassion she saw there. “One of my favourite poems. But you know these kids haven’t seen a horse outside of Central Park? To them the country means Staten Island.”
“Well, then, I’ll enlighten them,” Molly said stiffly. She felt herself flushing and wished she wouldn’t.
“Or they’ll enlighten you,” Luke returned, smiling almost gently to take the sting from his words. “If you’re up to it, I’ll take you out for a coffee after school one day this week. Or perhaps a stiff drink? You’ll need it.”
Molly swallowed. The last thing she wanted was to go out with someone as cynical and jaded as Luke Michaels, but she didn’t want to make an enemy her first day of school. She wanted to make a friend. “Thank you,” she finally managed. “That would be nice.”
The first period bell rang, and Luke gave her a mock salute. “To those who are about to die...” he grinned. “Good luck, newbie.”
Molly nodded, trying to smile, her throat suddenly dry. A steady stream of adolescents came in through the doors, and her eyes widened as she took in their already bored, speculative expressions as they jostled one another, exchanging jokes--some of which made Molly flush again. She glanced down at her papers, fussily arranging them as she sought to compose herself.
Everyone was seated, yet the chatter and joking still flew around the room and Molly cleared her throat. No one heard--or perhaps no one bothered to listen--and she did it again, so it hurt a little bit.
“Good morning--” Her voice wavered and not one person even glanced her way. Molly felt her flush intensifying, a prickly heat crawling along her skin. She was going to sink on her very first day, her first minute, and after all her dreams...
Her glance stole inadvertently to the door, and behind the striped pane of glass she saw Luke Michaels smile and give her a thumbs up. The simple gesture buoyed her for that crucial moment, and she spoke again.
“Good morning!” Her voice came out in a near boom, and the class was startled into silence. Molly smiled and moved from behind her desk. “My name is Miss Marshall, and we’re going to start with a poem today...” Moving with firm purpose between the rows of chairs, Molly began handing out the sheets of paper. Her gaze stole once more to the door, but Luke Michaels had already gone.
“Why don’t you come here?” As soon as Lynne said the words, she knew it was the right thing to do. She felt it when Jessica asked with a little choked laugh,
“Do you mean it?”
“Of course I do.” In the last four hours Lynne had discovered more of Rob and Guy’s duplicity. Guy had never had any intention of financing the hotel; he’d merely wanted Jessica’s savings to augment his own. She still wasn’t sure if Rob was a dupe or a deceiver, but it hardly mattered at this
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