she was usurping Francis’s place. “I think I’d be a good recruiter.”
Fred didn’t respond for several seconds that seemed like forever. Forget it, she wanted to say. It was just an idea.
In fact, he loved it. He was embarrassed that he had hesitated, caught assuming that Francis should be the one, not her. But he was sure she was right. “I should have thought of it myself,” he said. “You’ve been here longer and know the school better than anyone.”
“Except my husband,” Peggy murmured She needed to let Fred know he was forgiven.
“Yes. Well, he’s busy. He’d help if he could,” Fred said, and Peggy thought, Thanks. Thanks for saying that, wondering if her new friend would be this diplomatic if he weren’t the headmaster.
TWO DAYS LATER, the plane that Fred and Gail Kindler, Nan White, and Peggy took from Bradley Field to Hopkins Airport in Cleveland was two hours late; by the time they got across the airport and into their rented car for the drive to Shaker Heights, they knew the audience of potential students and their parents had already been gathered for half an hour in Steven and Sharon Maynard’s house. They arrived at the Maynard’s front porch at eight-thirty, feeling harried and rushed—an hour and fifteen minutes tardy, just as the summer sun was setting. Above them, draped from a second-story window, was a big American flag to celebrate the Fourth of July weekend, which would start in just two days.
Sharon Maynard greeted them in the spill of light from the front door of the big brick house, a tall, angular woman in her late forties, dressed in a white blouse and a floor-length blue skirt. Her faded blond hair was pulled severely back, her face was pale, and she wore no makeup; Peggy remembered a rounder face. But she felt warmly greeted when Sharon took her hand and smiled, then did the same with Nan. “It’s lovely to see you again,” Sharon said. “I’m glad you’re still at the school.” Nan let the comment go, and while Sharon was still holding her hand, Nan turned to the Kindlers, standing to her right, and introduced them. Very slowly, Sharon released Nan’s hand and then proffered her own, only partway and limply, and just the end of her fingers, first to Gail, then to Fred, while looking at a space above their heads. The Kindlers pretended they didn’t notice the slight.
Then they were in the house, and they heard the noise of conversation stop, and Steven Maynard was greeting them in the front hall. He was still in his brown business suit, a big man gone comfortably to roundness who wore a fifties crew cut. He took Gail’s hand and held on. “Gail! Welcome to our house. Thanks for dropping your own work and coming all the way out here to be with us.” Then he turned to Fred. “And Fred! We’re glad you’re here!” When he bent down to put his huge hand on Fred’s shoulder, Peggy and Nan exchanged quick glances of gratitude, and Peg felt the impulse to hug this big, round bear. Behind Steven, through the archway into the living room, the guests were watching.
Steven put his long arms out as if to corral the four of them and shepherded them into the living room, leaving his wife in the doorway, and Peggy saw the surprise appear on Sharon’s face. She watched the expression glide into a pout. Steven was not going to let her make the introductions! He had seen the way she greeted Fred and Gail. Peggy felt another rush of gratitude.
The furniture had been pulled to the sides of the Maynard’s airy living room to make room for the folding chairs, where at least forty people sat. The walls were a stark white; an Oriental rug covered the center of the polished hardwood floor, and abstract paintings hung on the walls. Peggy thought they were ugly. It flashed through her mind that maybe Steven didn’t like them either.
The four recruiters sat down in folding chairs at the front of the room facing the audience. Peggy scanned the room, looking at every face. There was no one here she didn’t recognize. She knew everyone there! Couldn’t remember everyone’s name, but recognized every face. So everyone was either a parent of a present Oliver student, or an alumna, or a parent of an alumna. Wait! she thought. There’s been some mistake. Not one potential new family is present! Not a single girl of high school age is here! She glanced across the room at Sharon Maynard, who stood in the archway to the living room, watching Peggy discover this. It dawned on Peggy then that maybe this wasn’t a mistake. She stared at Sharon’s eyes, burning in, until Sharon had to look away, and then Peggy knew: It wasn’t a mistake.
She heard Steven introduce her first. But she didn’t hear much of what he said because, along with her surprise at such treachery, she was aware that everyone in the audience was looking at her, not at Steven, while he talked. Their eyes pinned her to the wall as if to ask, Whose side are you on?
His, she wanted to answer, anger flooding. That’s right, his side. I’m loyal to him, this new guy, the man—and you better be too. She wanted to jump up in the middle of Steven’s little speech and explain to these people all the reasons why Marjorie had to go. Instead—for she would keep her cool—she forced herself to smile and nodded her head in acknowledgment of the warm applause for her that she knew Fred wouldn’t get when he was introduced.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
