Now That You Mention It
Page 75
“Hello,” he said, blushing. “Very nice to meet you, Nora.” He shook my hand, then Xiaowen’s.
“Xiaowen Liu,” she said. “A great admirer of Sharon Stuart.”
“Nice to meet you both,” he said.
“This is my dog, Boomer,” I said, and though he was power napping, Boomer wagged at the mention of his name.
“He’s very beautiful.” Boomer’s tail thumped harder. “Can I get you more coffee?”
Manners, very nice looking, a little shy. “I’m all set,” I said.
“I wouldn’t say no to a slab of chocolate cake,” Xiaowen said.
“Be right back,” he said with a smile and went to the counter.
“It’s a test,” Xiaowen told me. “If he doesn’t make me pay, he passes.”
A minute later, Richard came back and set the plate in front of my friend. “On me,” he said.
My friend and I exchanged a smug look.
“Xiaowen,” Richard said thoughtfully. “That means color of the morning clouds, doesn’t it?”
Her fork froze halfway to her mouth. “Uh...yes. More or less.”
“I lived in China for a few years. It’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at me. “And what does Richard mean?”
He laughed. “Powerful leader. I think my parents missed the mark on that one. I’m a music teacher. Well, I retired after a back injury. I sure miss the students, but I’m doing a little pro bono work in Portland.”
“How nice,” Xiaowen murmured, taking a bite of her cake.
“So!” I said brightly. “Richard, I just wanted to warn you again that my mom is... She’s a wonderful person. She doesn’t like the idea of being fixed up, so...”
“Got it. We’re just friends, and she happens to run into us.”
“Bingo. We met... Where do you think we should say?”
“In a rose garden under a full moon,” Xiaowen said, and Richard laughed.
“How about on the ferry?” he suggested.
“Perfect.”
I texted my mother while Richard and Xiaowen chatted about Portland, oysters and sailing. Mom, pop into Jitters for your break. I’m here right now, and the coffee is fantastic. Should she resist (and she would), I would play the someone-I-want-you-to-meet card.
A second later, the unexpected answer popped into my screen. Sure. Be there in five. The Excelsior Pines was just down the street.
I showed Xiaowen the phone. “Unlike her to be so spontaneous,” I murmured.
“She must smell the coffee.”
“It’s excellent,” Richard said, taking a sip of his. “Xiaowen, have you been to Bard for coffee? It’s my favorite.”
“No, no, no. You have to try the Speckled Axe. Bard is for beginners.”
“Sounds like a coffee throw down,” he said, smiling.
A few minutes later, Mom came in, wearing the hotel uniform of white shirt, black pants. “Hi, Mom!” I said.
“Hello. How are you, Xiaowen, deah?” She looked at Richard. “I’m Nora’s mother. And you are?”
“Richard Hemmings.” He stood up and offered his hand, which she took suspiciously. “So nice to meet you, Sharon.”
“That’s Mrs. Stuart to you.” She scowled. “How do you know my daughter here?”
“We met on the ferry,” he said with a wink to me. “She invited me to have coffee with her and her lovely friend. Would you like something to drink?”
“I’m fine,” she said, sitting down.
“Xiaowen and I were just arguing about where to find the best coffee,” Richard said. “Do you have a favorite place to go?”
“I make my own.”
“That’s always the best.”
“Ayuh.” Mom folded her arms and looked at me. She was not pleased.
“Nora tells me you like animals, Sharon. Do you have any pets?”
“My bird just died,” she said.
Xiaowen choked on a laugh, having been far, far too amused of my tales of Tweety. “Excuse me a second,” she said, heading for the bathroom to let the not-so-young lovers get to know each other.
“I’m gonna get a refill,” I said. “Anyone need anything?” My mother looked ready to bite me, but Richard smiled and said he was all set.
I stood in the line, which was about six people deep, and watched my mother. Open up, I pleaded silently. Don’t be so cutoff from everyone.
Then again, maybe it was just me. Everyone else seemed to like her tremendously. Look at her hug therapy group.
“Nora Stuart? Is that you, dear?”
I looked up, and there was Mr. Abernathy, my old English teacher, holding a cup of coffee to go. “Mr. A!” I exclaimed, hugging him. “How are you?”
He beamed. “I’m doing very well. Look at you! It’s wonderful to see you!”
“Do you have a minute to chat?” I asked.
“Sure!” he said, his voice so familiar. We took a table near the counter.
“Do you still live here?” I asked. “I haven’t seen you around.”
“No,” he said, “but we kept the house here and come back a few weeks every year. Rent it the rest of the time. How are you? I always hoped to see you back here at reunions and whatnot.”
I nodded, feeling a prickle of shame. “Well, I went to Tufts, as you know, and then went on to medical school.”
“How wonderful! Your mother must be so proud!”
“Well, yes. When did you retire?”
“About eight years after you left. Ten, maybe.” He took a sip of his coffee. “You know, you remained the only student ever to do that Great Works project.”
And there it was. “Yeah. About that, Mr. Abernathy,” I said. My hands twisted in my lap. “I have a question you might be able to answer. Was that... Is that how I got the Perez Scholarship?”
He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“Is that what put me over the edge? Because I...” I closed my eyes. “I smeared the assignment on the blackboard so Luke Fletcher wouldn’t see it.”
“All of you had four months to see that assignment.”
“I know, but...I wanted to make sure.”
Mr. A nodded. “Well, from what I know, you moved heaven and earth to get that paper done, during finals, no less. I doubt very much young Mr. Fletcher would’ve been able to pull that off. But it really doesn’t matter, dear. You already had an A-plus in my class, so the paper didn’t change your grade at all. That’s why I was so surprised that you did it.”
“If Luke had done it and gotten an A, too...”
“Ah, I see the root of your guilt. Feel guilty no more, my dear. Luke ended the term with a B-minus. His grades had been sinking all semester, and not just in my class. We all talked about it. The night of the car accident... That wasn’t his first experience with drugs, apparently.”
I blinked. Blinked again. “Oh,” I said. “I didn’t know that.”
Mr. A reached across the table and patted my hand. “You won that scholarship fair and square, Nora. No one else was even close.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Ah, there’s Mrs. Abernathy, wondering where I am. I have to go, dear. It was wonderful to see you. Congratulations on everything.”
“Xiaowen Liu,” she said. “A great admirer of Sharon Stuart.”
“Nice to meet you both,” he said.
“This is my dog, Boomer,” I said, and though he was power napping, Boomer wagged at the mention of his name.
“He’s very beautiful.” Boomer’s tail thumped harder. “Can I get you more coffee?”
Manners, very nice looking, a little shy. “I’m all set,” I said.
“I wouldn’t say no to a slab of chocolate cake,” Xiaowen said.
“Be right back,” he said with a smile and went to the counter.
“It’s a test,” Xiaowen told me. “If he doesn’t make me pay, he passes.”
A minute later, Richard came back and set the plate in front of my friend. “On me,” he said.
My friend and I exchanged a smug look.
“Xiaowen,” Richard said thoughtfully. “That means color of the morning clouds, doesn’t it?”
Her fork froze halfway to her mouth. “Uh...yes. More or less.”
“I lived in China for a few years. It’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at me. “And what does Richard mean?”
He laughed. “Powerful leader. I think my parents missed the mark on that one. I’m a music teacher. Well, I retired after a back injury. I sure miss the students, but I’m doing a little pro bono work in Portland.”
“How nice,” Xiaowen murmured, taking a bite of her cake.
“So!” I said brightly. “Richard, I just wanted to warn you again that my mom is... She’s a wonderful person. She doesn’t like the idea of being fixed up, so...”
“Got it. We’re just friends, and she happens to run into us.”
“Bingo. We met... Where do you think we should say?”
“In a rose garden under a full moon,” Xiaowen said, and Richard laughed.
“How about on the ferry?” he suggested.
“Perfect.”
I texted my mother while Richard and Xiaowen chatted about Portland, oysters and sailing. Mom, pop into Jitters for your break. I’m here right now, and the coffee is fantastic. Should she resist (and she would), I would play the someone-I-want-you-to-meet card.
A second later, the unexpected answer popped into my screen. Sure. Be there in five. The Excelsior Pines was just down the street.
I showed Xiaowen the phone. “Unlike her to be so spontaneous,” I murmured.
“She must smell the coffee.”
“It’s excellent,” Richard said, taking a sip of his. “Xiaowen, have you been to Bard for coffee? It’s my favorite.”
“No, no, no. You have to try the Speckled Axe. Bard is for beginners.”
“Sounds like a coffee throw down,” he said, smiling.
A few minutes later, Mom came in, wearing the hotel uniform of white shirt, black pants. “Hi, Mom!” I said.
“Hello. How are you, Xiaowen, deah?” She looked at Richard. “I’m Nora’s mother. And you are?”
“Richard Hemmings.” He stood up and offered his hand, which she took suspiciously. “So nice to meet you, Sharon.”
“That’s Mrs. Stuart to you.” She scowled. “How do you know my daughter here?”
“We met on the ferry,” he said with a wink to me. “She invited me to have coffee with her and her lovely friend. Would you like something to drink?”
“I’m fine,” she said, sitting down.
“Xiaowen and I were just arguing about where to find the best coffee,” Richard said. “Do you have a favorite place to go?”
“I make my own.”
“That’s always the best.”
“Ayuh.” Mom folded her arms and looked at me. She was not pleased.
“Nora tells me you like animals, Sharon. Do you have any pets?”
“My bird just died,” she said.
Xiaowen choked on a laugh, having been far, far too amused of my tales of Tweety. “Excuse me a second,” she said, heading for the bathroom to let the not-so-young lovers get to know each other.
“I’m gonna get a refill,” I said. “Anyone need anything?” My mother looked ready to bite me, but Richard smiled and said he was all set.
I stood in the line, which was about six people deep, and watched my mother. Open up, I pleaded silently. Don’t be so cutoff from everyone.
Then again, maybe it was just me. Everyone else seemed to like her tremendously. Look at her hug therapy group.
“Nora Stuart? Is that you, dear?”
I looked up, and there was Mr. Abernathy, my old English teacher, holding a cup of coffee to go. “Mr. A!” I exclaimed, hugging him. “How are you?”
He beamed. “I’m doing very well. Look at you! It’s wonderful to see you!”
“Do you have a minute to chat?” I asked.
“Sure!” he said, his voice so familiar. We took a table near the counter.
“Do you still live here?” I asked. “I haven’t seen you around.”
“No,” he said, “but we kept the house here and come back a few weeks every year. Rent it the rest of the time. How are you? I always hoped to see you back here at reunions and whatnot.”
I nodded, feeling a prickle of shame. “Well, I went to Tufts, as you know, and then went on to medical school.”
“How wonderful! Your mother must be so proud!”
“Well, yes. When did you retire?”
“About eight years after you left. Ten, maybe.” He took a sip of his coffee. “You know, you remained the only student ever to do that Great Works project.”
And there it was. “Yeah. About that, Mr. Abernathy,” I said. My hands twisted in my lap. “I have a question you might be able to answer. Was that... Is that how I got the Perez Scholarship?”
He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“Is that what put me over the edge? Because I...” I closed my eyes. “I smeared the assignment on the blackboard so Luke Fletcher wouldn’t see it.”
“All of you had four months to see that assignment.”
“I know, but...I wanted to make sure.”
Mr. A nodded. “Well, from what I know, you moved heaven and earth to get that paper done, during finals, no less. I doubt very much young Mr. Fletcher would’ve been able to pull that off. But it really doesn’t matter, dear. You already had an A-plus in my class, so the paper didn’t change your grade at all. That’s why I was so surprised that you did it.”
“If Luke had done it and gotten an A, too...”
“Ah, I see the root of your guilt. Feel guilty no more, my dear. Luke ended the term with a B-minus. His grades had been sinking all semester, and not just in my class. We all talked about it. The night of the car accident... That wasn’t his first experience with drugs, apparently.”
I blinked. Blinked again. “Oh,” I said. “I didn’t know that.”
Mr. A reached across the table and patted my hand. “You won that scholarship fair and square, Nora. No one else was even close.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Ah, there’s Mrs. Abernathy, wondering where I am. I have to go, dear. It was wonderful to see you. Congratulations on everything.”
