Discovering that Gina Petrillo came from Winding River was a surprise.
“And there’s someone named Emma, who’s some kind of courtroom barracuda in Denver now,” Teddy had continued. “And Cole Davis, the big computer-programming genius—well, he wasn’t in the class, but his girlfriend was. Uncle Ryan says he’ll probably be there even though he’s a couple of years older. Everybody’s turning out because it’s such a big deal for the town that Lauren’s coming.”
Ford had been even more startled by the complete litany of success stories. Even though he’d come from a small town himself, he’d always felt that the odds of success were stacked against him. To find so many high achievers coming out of one small class in Winding River—okay, two classes, if Cole Davis had been a year or two ahead of the others—was intriguing.
The more he’d thought about it, the more convinced he’d become that there was a story there. Who or what had motivated these four people to work so hard? Was it a teacher? A parent? A community-wide commitment to education? Their stories could well provide motivation for the current crop of students.
Because of his fascination with the idea, he’d bought a ticket to the Saturday night dance. He had his tape recorder in his pocket, but for the moment he was content to stand on the fringes of the party and watch the dancing.
It was early yet. There was plenty of time for tracking down the class celebrities. Not that he expected to have any difficulty identifying them. The others would probably be fawning all over them, with the possible exception of the attorney. They might be giving her a wide berth. In his experience, most sensible people were wary of lawyers.
“Young man, why aren’t you dancing?” Geraldine Hawkins demanded.
Ford glanced down into twinkling blue eyes framed by gray bangs. The veteran English teacher was sixty-five and barely five feet tall. Yet, according to Ron Haggerty, she could intimidate a six-five, two-hundred-forty-pound linebacker. She’d been one of the first people Ford had met, the introduction preceded by an admonition not to underestimate her. Mrs. Hawkins, despite her diminutive size, was a well-respected powerhouse in town. A decade ago, she had been mayor twice, but now she claimed she no longer had time for that “nonsense.”
She stood before him now with increasing impatience. “Well, young man?”
“Two left feet,” Ford told her.
“I don’t believe that for a minute.” She gestured across the room to five women sitting at a table with one man. One of those women was unmistakably the gorgeous Lauren Winters. Another he recognized as Gina Petrillo. “Now go on over there and ask someone to dance. Nobody should be a wallflower at their own class reunion, especially not when there’s a handsome, available man in the room.”
Ford grinned at her. “I’d rather dance with you, Mrs. Hawkins. How about it? Care to take a spin around the floor with me?”
Color flamed in her cheeks, but she demurely held out her hand. “Why, I don’t mind if I do. Just stay off my toes, young man. I have corns.”
He laughed at that. “I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises.”
He swept her into his arms and waltzed her gracefully around the floor. When the music ended, she scolded, “Young man, you fibbed to me. You know perfectly well how to dance.”
“You inspired me,” he insisted.
“Nonsense. Now go ask someone your own age to dance.”
“Anyone in particular?”
She glanced over at the same group of women. One of them was clutching a cell phone to her ear and nodding, her expression intense. She was beautiful in an uptight, regal way, Ford mused.
“I’d recommend Emma,” Mrs. Hawkins said. “The one on the phone. She needs a distraction. Whoever invented cell phones ought to be shot, but since it’s too late for that, we can only try to get them away from the people who are addicted to them.”
“Emma?” Ford repeated, recalling his conversation with Teddy. “She’s an attorney?”
“A fine one, from what I’ve heard. Works too hard, though. I’ve heard that, as well. Just look at her. Here she is at a dance with all of her old friends and she’s on the phone. I guarantee you that it’s a business call.”
Even as they stared at her, Emma reluctantly handed the phone to Lauren, who dialed, spoke to someone, then hung up, her expression triumphant. When Emma reached for the phone, Lauren held it away from her.
“Good for Lauren,” Mrs. Hawkins said approvingly. “Now it’s up to you. Ask her to dance. If ever there was a young woman in need of some fun, it’s our Emma.”
Ford sensed that the teacher was not going to give up until he was back out on the dance floor, preferably with the workaholic attorney. Since he’d intended to seek Emma out anyway, he nodded. “You win. But if I step all over her toes and she sues me, I’m holding you responsible.”
“I’m not concerned,” the English teacher said with a blithe expression.
Ford crossed the high school gym. By the time he reached the table, Emma was sitting all alone, her expression glum.
“I’ve been commanded to dance with you,” Ford told her.
She gazed up at him, her expression startled. “Commanded? Now there’s a gracious invitation, if ever I heard one.” She might be an uptight workaholic, but Emma was even more attractive up close. For a brief moment Ford was grateful the English teacher had sent him on this mission of mercy. He suspected though, that Emma was going to do her very best to see that he got over that benevolent feeling.
“Mrs. Hawkins,” he said, nodding in the teacher’s direction.
To his surprise, a smile spread across Emma’s face, softening the harsh lines of her mouth and putting a sparkle into her eyes. “She does have a way of getting what she wants, doesn’t she? She actually managed to nudge me into reading Shakespeare. I hated it, but she never once let up. Eventually I began to like it.”
“She must not have had to nudge too hard,” Ford said. “From what I hear, you were a terrific student. I’m Ford Hamilton, by the way.”
Her expression cooled considerably. “Ah,” she said, “the new owner of the paper. I’ve heard about you.”
“Nothing too damning, I hope.”
“So far no, but then you’ve only been here a few weeks. I’m sure you haven’t done your worst yet.” She stood up. “Thanks for asking me to dance, but I have some old friends I need to see.”
She brushed past him and headed straight for the hallway. Ford stared after her, wondering what he’d said to offend her. Or was it nothing more than the fact that he owned the paper?
“Ms. Rogers?” he called after her.
She hesitated but didn’t turn around. Refusing to talk to her back, he walked over and stepped in front of her.
“When you have a few minutes, I’d like to speak with you,” he said.
Her expression remained cool. “About?”
