Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [161]
“Do you agree?”
“Sure.” One day was as good as any other as far as she was concerned. “I’ll make sure I have the fifth off.”
“Good. I added Paul’s name to the list while I was at it. You don’t object, do you?”
“Of course he can come. The more the merrier.” Paul Fredricks, of course. He was the actor who’d captured Michelle’s attention and her heart after one short meeting. Her roommate seemed to think no one had noticed. Perhaps no one else had, but Jenny wasn’t as easily fooled.
“Look,” Michelle said, standing inside the kitchen. “The message machine is blinking.”
“I forgot to check,” Jenny admitted. The first order of business when she’d returned home was aspirin and a hot shower. “Who called?”
“I don’t know.” Michelle pushed down the button and reached for a pad and pen.
“It’s Irene,” Michelle cried.
It would be just like their agent to leave the most important news of their careers on the answering machine.
“I don’t know where you girls are,” Irene’s elevated voice said, “but I sincerely hope you’ll be home soon. Now listen up! I talked to John Peterman this afternoon, and he wants you both back for a second audition first thing in the morning. I repeat, he wants to see you both again.”
Michelle looked to Jenny.
Jenny looked to Michelle.
Michelle threw open her arms and screamed.
Her cold forgotten, Jenny tossed aside the quilt and raced over to her friend’s open arms. Together they danced around the living room, screaming at the top of their lungs.
Then Jenny started to cough again.
Eight
“Suzie, can I see you after class?” Brynn asked the Chinese girl. Of all her students, Brynn found real encouragement in watching this particular teenager’s progress. Suzie’s written essays revealed a quick, analytical mind and a thirst for knowledge. Brynn hadn’t said anything to Suzie, but she’d taken it upon herself to inquire about the possibility of a full-ride scholarship for the girl.
Suzie glanced up from her desk and blinked. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, not at all,” Brynn quickly assured her. She patted Suzie’s shoulder, and the girl returned to her writing assignment.
“Do you want to see me, too?” Malcolm called from the back of the classroom, disrupting the calm. That was Malcolm’s specialty.
“Not today,” she said.
Malcolm folded his muscular arms and leaned back on his desk chair until his shoulders were braced against the wall. His eyes were round with irritation. “I heard you stopped by my place yesterday and asked to speak to my mother. If you got something to say to her, you can say it to me first.” He lifted his chin an inch in open defiance.
It was clear Malcolm didn’t trust her. Brynn doubted that many of her students did, although she’d worked hard to gain their confidence. Again and again she butted her head against the thick walls of doubt and suspicion. To the best of her knowledge she hadn’t gone against her word once, yet her students acted as if they were waiting for her to knife them in the back. Certainly the incident with Emilio that first day hadn’t helped matters any.
“My stepdad said you stopped by my place, too.” This was from Yolanda.
“Are you looking to make trouble for us?” It was Malcolm again.
“What’d you want with my mom?”
“Yeah. You ain’t got no right to talk about me behind my back.”
Brynn could see that she’d best explain the purpose of those after-school visits. She’d hoped meeting her students’ families would be a positive experience; instead she’d incurred the mistrust and ire of her class.
Emilio sat up and looked over his shoulder. “Miss Cassidy comes to my apartment most every afternoon, and I ain’t making no fuss about it.”
His remark was followed by several boos and hisses. Emilio just smiled. He reveled in the fact that Brynn had been seeing a good deal of Roberto. What he said, however, wasn’t true.
“All right, all right,” Brynn said, holding up her hands. “It looks like I owe you an explanation.”
“You’re damn right you do.”
Brynn looked into a sea of angry faces. “Malcolm, you’re right. I did stop off at your place yesterday afternoon.