Undercurrent Read Free Page A

Cassie hurried, she could avoid another forced conversation with the girl. Before Tammy could pack up her notebook, Cassie shouldered her tote bag and darted down the arched corridor leading to the exit.
    She slowed as she neared the door. No good. Nowhere to hide in the open ruins. At best, she’d find a mossy bit of crumbling rock wall to slip behind or an untended hedgerow that hadn’t been manicured into oblivion. Tammy would find her and attach herself like a giant barnacle. The acid reflux Cassie had been battling since Salty’s stories would churn into heartburn of volcanic proportion if she had to pacify Tammy for the rest of the afternoon.
    Think. Think.
    To the right, a sign with a cue-ball-headed woman in a triangle dress snagged her attention. Why not? The restroom would make a great hideout.
    She ducked into the yellow tiled room and fought the urge to sneeze. The place was a life-size Petri dish of mold spores. Pink soap oozed from the lone wall dispenser, forming a crusted mound on the floor. Rust stains in varying shades striped the ancient sink below each faucet handle. Worn linoleum, curled up in one corner, looked as if it dated back to, well, when exactly had linoleum first come on the market? Black fuzz grew on the windowsill, the overflowing wastebasket spawned crumpled hand towels at its base, and—
    Flippity flop. Flippity flop.
    Cassie lunged toward one of the two narrow stalls and balanced herself a la tote bag up on the stool, leaving the metal door cracked open so it would look as if it remained unoccupied.
    “ Dr. L?” Flip flops slapped into the restroom. “You in here?”
    Cassie held her breath. If that door opened, how would she explain why she perched like a fat hen atop a porcelain egg? Her eyes watered and her sinuses begged to be cleared, but she couldn’t afford to sneeze now. She bit her lip hard, hoping the pain would override the tickling sensation at the back of her throat.
    Tammy’s heavy breathing echoed off the grimy tiles. Flip. Flop. “Doctor?”
    Didn’t this girl ever give up? No wonder her parents sent her cross-country to live in a dorm. For a fleeting moment, Cassie entertained the thought of bursting out the door and scaring Tammy to death. She ought to for the indignity of her current position.
    A perturbed “humpf,” a few more footsteps, and the complaint of the wooden restroom door signaled Tammy’s departure. Relief eased the tension in Cassie’s shoulders, and she stood but continued clutching the hem of her skirt until she exited the stall. She looked bedraggled enough without dousing the fabric with eau d’ toilet.
    But a splash of water on her hot cheeks and forehead would feel great. She snatched one of the remaining paper towels and used it as a germ barrier to turn on the faucet. Cupping her hands together, she bent and patted the water against her cheeks and forehead. The shock of cold droplets against her skin tingled from her head down her spine.
    She grabbed the last of the paper towels and dabbed away the excess. The face staring back at her from the cracked mirror looked somewhat refreshed, presentable even, but Cassie suspected that would change in a minute if she gave in to thinking about Drew.
    The whole career thing must’ve been a front. After five years of serious dating, he should’ve realized how much her profession meant to her. Had he found someone better looking? Younger? Thinner? What?
    A few fine wrinkles, what she liked to call reading squints, fanned out at the corners of her hazel eyes. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders, but she prided herself that none were gray—not yet anyway. Full lips that could use a fresh swipe of color, a face with a healthy tanned glow, she looked pretty good for her thirty years. She smiled, pleased at her quick once-over, until her gaze strayed lower.
    Oh, fabulous. Her blouse still gaped open from the lost button. And she’d lectured like this? No wonder her male students paid particular