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Chloe asked what Morgan had in mind.

“Make me come again and we can build a shopping mall if you want.”

***

The next afternoon, Morgan said a cheery goodbye to her Fine Lit students, waving to all of them over the Zoom connection. The class had gone well. Today, she had introduced her seniors to Ivanhoe and already some of her students had asked some well-considered questions about Sir Walter Scott’s Romance novel that had made Morgan optimistic about the new few weeks while they all read the book.

As she closed the Zoom window on her laptop, she once again felt that feeling of longing for the classroom. She missed her students, she missed her classroom, she missed her colleagues and she even missed the pretentious Gothic-inspired school buildings that all looked like they should be on a moor someplace in Scotland rather than on a grassy hilltop campus overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

There were rumors in the news today that California was considering reopening the schools by fall, provided students and staff managed to get vaccinated against Covid between now and then. Morgan hoped that would happen. She didn’t become a teacher to sit at home talking to a computer screen, only seeing her dozen or so students per class via little windows that came nowhere near offering the level of interaction with them that she craved as an educator.

When the class finished, Morgan hoped she’d be able to work on her lesson plans some more before calling it a day but then suddenly her computer started ringing with a new Zoom call. It was from Dr. Kenworthy, the headmaster of Barrington Woods.

Frowning, because she had no idea why the head would be calling her, Morgan answered the call, being sure to erase the frown as the call connected and she found herself looking at her boss’s boss.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Banks,” Dr. Kenworthy greeted. He was a very imperious-looking late-middle-aged man with bushy white eyebrows and a goatee. Morgan always thought he looked like the kind of man who could get away with wearing a monocle and whose only two career choices were headmaster of an elite private school or Earl of Suffolk.

“Hello, Dr. Kenworthy, what can I do for you?” Morgan didn’t think she had done anything wrong, but that was how interacting with the head always made her feel, as if she was about to reprimanded for something.

“Ethel Meskin has decided to retire,” Dr. Kenworthy told her.

Morgan was surprised. Dr. Meskin was the head of the Fine Literature department at Barrington Woods and was the person who had hired Morgan. She was an incredibly intelligent and talented educator who could make you believe that she had read every book that had ever been printed. And her approach to creating a first-class Fine Lit department at Barrington Woods was both revolutionary and refreshing for a younger teacher like Morgan.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Morgan said, meaning it, though, really, it must be time for Dr. Meskin to retire. The woman was old; like, very old.

“I am as well,” Dr. Kenworthy said. “However, the world continues to spin and we have children to educate. To that end, I would like you to become the interim head of the Fine Literature Department.”

Morgan couldn’t help the look of sheer surprise which took over her features. Becoming the head of Fine Lit at Barrington Woods was one of two possible career paths she had hoped to take, the other being earning at least an associate professorship at a university. She just hadn’t expected to find one of those goals within reach quite so quickly.

“Wow, Dr. Kenworthy, this is a surprise.”

“I’ll be frank with you, Ms. Banks. You’re young.”

Morgan blinked. How was she supposed to respond to that? She decided it was better to say nothing and wait for Dr. Kenworthy to continue.

“However, despite your youth, both Dr. Meskin and myself feel you can bring something new to the leadership echelons of this school and to the Fine Literature department in particular. She has told me a lot about your ideas and approaches and I liked what I’ve heard.”

Morgan could only utter a few words of thanks in reply.

“If I had my druthers, I’d offer you the job permanently,” Dr. Kenworthy went on, Morgan instantly thinking that Dr. Kenworthy was the only person alive who could get away with using the word druthers. “I’d like to s

ave myself the trouble of searching for qualified individuals followed by endless interviews, but the school bylaws insist that myself along with our board of directors look at other candidates.”

“I understand,” Morgan said, feeling a little less ecstatic than a few moments ago. A prestigious school like Barrington Woods would attract the cream of the crop. She wondered what hope she’d really have for securing the job permanently.

That’s up to me, isn’t it?

“We will discuss this more tomorrow, Ms. Banks. Irene will schedule a meeting.”

And then the call ended.

Chapter 21

Chloë felt like a spy.

It was Tuesday afternoon and she was in San Diego to meet with Lexx at a coffeeshop not far from The Ink Well. Chloë was a little early and so after texting Lexx and getting her coffee order, she spent some time scoping out the café after snagging an empty table.

In her opinion, it lacked charm. It was as if the owners had just opened up the shop and said, “Look, all we do is sell coffee, don’t expect much else.” The walls were bare, except for a stupid faux-rustic sign on one that read “Coffee” and had probably been bought at Target. The tables and chairs looked like they could have come from the teacher’s lounge in a public high school and the fluorescent lighting made the place seem soulless. And the coffee…