His eyes roamed over the print as he tacked one up on the bulletin board by his desk. Then he turned back to me.
I lifted my eyebrows. “What, no questions?”
He smiled. Too knowingly, in my opinion. “Nope. Do you have questions?”
Narrowing my eyes, I considered it. If I asked him questions about Rose, I’d be confirming my interest in her. And in this town, I might as well take out a full-page ad in the Gazette announcing my intentions. Then the sheriff and his growling muscle-for-hire would be on my doorstep.
On the other hand, I really wanted to know more about her and how she came to be here. And pretty much every detail of her history that I could squeeze out of people.
Or I could just ask her. Friends did that, right?
Realizing I was taking too long to answer, I cleared my throat. “Uh, nope. Except if you want to join us guys at Tall Tales for a few beers to catch up.”
His smile widened as if he knew I’d chickened out. “Sure. What—” His attention caught on someone behind me. “Oh, hello, Peggy, I have your order ready. Just one sec.”
As he ducked through a narrow door behind the desk marked Personnel Only, I turned to face the newcomer.
The tiny woman behind me and I both lit up at the same time.
“Mrs. Q!”
“Flynn Higgins!”
My old art teacher’s wrinkled face housed sixty-plus years of smiles as she rushed forward to wrap her thin but still strong arms around me. I barely had the chance to hug her properly before she let me go.
She’d always reminded me of a bird, chirping with excitement and wearing flowy, colorful dresses and scarves.
Like now, as she bounced on her toes and clapped her hands. “Oh, Flynn! Oh my goodness, I’m so happy to run into you! Just wait ’til I tell Bert. Remember my husband? Oh, he’ll be thrilled! Look how handsome you’ve gotten! I mean, you were always a cute boy—full of smiles and sweetness even when you were getting into trouble. Except in my class. You were my best student! Do you have a girlfriend?”
I laughed, squeezing one of her hands. Those hands had been the ones to first show me how to hold a paintbrush and had clapped in delight for every work of art I’d shown her.
“Hold up there, Mrs. Q. Now let me see if I can still keep up with you…” I scrunched my forehead as if thinking hard, making her laugh. “I’m thrilled to run into you. Of course, I remember Bert—have you convinced him to do an RV road trip with you yet? You’re much prettier than I am handsome. I never got in trouble in your class because I never wanted to leave it. And no, I don’t have a girlfriend. But not for lack of trying,” I added with a wink to lighten the hurt those words still carried.
She giggled, her spirit still just as carefree as I remembered. That spirit had gotten me through some of the darkest times in my life.
I hadn’t had a bad life by any means. But growing up with parents who were as strict as they were selfish had taken its toll on my young mind. Mrs. Q had never talked to me about my troubles at home, but I was sure she’d known. She’d let me use the classroom whenever it was empty to keep working on my art. Through her instruction, I’d found an outlet for all the dark, confusing, painful feelings snarled up inside me.
She’d saved me in a way, given me a path when it seemed like no one else cared what I wanted in life, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever thanked her for it.
A sudden well of emotion rose in my chest.
Before I could release the words trapped in my throat, Owen came back out, carrying a big box as if it held cotton instead of books.
He looked between me and Mrs. Q. “Everything ok?”
I simply smiled and squeezed her around her narrow shoulders. “Just catching up with the best teacher in the world,” I said.
Owen nodded and asked her, “Did you drive here, Mrs. Q, or should I grab my car?”
“I parked out front, dear.”
“I’ll load these up then. Be back in a minute.”
She smiled after him. “Such a sweetheart. Just like you.” She poked me in the side. “I heard you’re helping that lovely girl, Rose, with her classes this summer. Did you know I’ll be bringing my summer class in for a few? It’d mean the world to have you show off for them a bit.”
“Anything for you, Mrs. Q.”
We talked for a few more minutes before we said our goodbyes. Noticing how late it was getting, I said goodbye to Owen as well, telling him I’d probably see him at Tall Tales.