cracking the whip until Monday morning at eight.”
Judging by their laughter, the girls did not feel particularly threatened.
When she saw Nola, the other woman quickly crossed the floor. She wore a white shirt, dark blue slacks and sensible shoes, but her colorful sweater was decorated with cartoon characters—a crazy rabbit and his roadrunner pal, plus a wise-cracking duck and a bald little man with a rifle.
Her smooth skin revealed she was younger than she’d first appeared. Her chestnut-brown hair, combed back to fell in waves over her shoulders, showed not a single strand of gray.
“Nola, there you are! Welcome to Hawkridge. I’m Jayne Thomas, the ringmaster of this circus. Please forgive the noise—spring break has just ended and the girls are catching up on each other’s lives.” She took Nola’s hand without really shaking it, then looked down at Garrett. “Helping with the luggage, Garrett? That’s nice of you.”
“Uh, not exactly.” He shifted Nola’s case to his other hand. “She let me borrow it.”
The headmistress widened her eyes. “For what?”
“Homer,” Nola said. “A turtle he found on the road.”
“Oh, Garrett.” The headmistress now looked quite distressed, indeed. “Tell me you didn’t put a turtle in that beautiful suitcase.”
“He was gonna get hurt in the trunk,” Garrett explained. “Ms. Shannon said I could.”
“Oh, dear.” Jayne Thomas placed a hand on Nola’s shoulder. “Garrett’s well-known for his collecting habits. He keeps an entire menagerie of injured animals.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Nola smiled. “I hope his father won’t mind one more addition to the collection.”
“Dad doesn’t care.” Garrett glanced up at the curved balcony running around three sides of the entry hall. “There he is now. Dad! Hey, Dad!”
He ran to the circular staircase and started up, lugging the suitcase with him, dodging the girls who lounged on the steps, talking and laughing. “Come see what I found, Dad. It’s the coolest box turtle, ever!”
Somewhere out of sight, a man said, “A box turtle, so early in the spring? I guess this warm spell has brought them out of hibernation.”
His voice hadn’t changed, and Nola would have recognized it anywhere. The years rolled back, and she was eighteen again…
…standing at the foot of the staircase on a hot August afternoon, when a gorgeous guy wearing jeans and a navy sports jacket stepped through the front door. He slipped his backpack off his shoulder, looked in her direction and grinned.
“I’m Mason Reed,” he said in a delicious southern drawl. “The new physics teacher. And you are…?”
In love, Nola answered silently. Totally and forever in love. With you.
Chapter Two
“There’s Mason, now.”
Jayne Thomas’s voice brought Nola back to the present. In the next moment, he descended into view on the staircase, but then quickly crouched down to peer at the turtle Garrett—his son, Garrett—revealed in Nola’s suitcase. Through the iron balusters, she could see that Mason’s hair was as dark as she remembered, the same silky brown as Garrett’s. Worn a little long, the relaxed waves brushed his jacket collar and the curves of his ears and his eyebrows. Still lean and flat waisted, he straightened up without visible effort.
“Where did the bag come from?” he asked his son as they headed down the stairs. “That’s a pretty fancy carrying case for a box turtle.”
“I got a ride from the highway,” Garrett explained. “It was the coolest car, Dad, with a fridge and a food cabinet and everything. The lady in the car gave me the suitcase.”
Mason stopped, braced his hands on his hips and glared at his son. “What have I told you about accepting rides from strangers?” The drawl had hardened, developed a sharp edge.
“It’s okay, Dad. She’s a teacher.” At the bottom of the staircase, Garrett led the way to where Nola stood, paralyzed, beside Jayne Thomas. “See? Ms. Shannon said she’d be working here. With you. So I knew it would be okay.”
Nola watched Mason’s deep brown gaze widen with shock as he realized who she was. She’d changed her appearance since twelve years ago, but she was still too tall and too thin, with washed-out blue eyes and pale, straight hair.
When he didn’t say anything, she swallowed hard and forced herself to smile. “Hello, Mason. It’s good to see you again.”
“Nola!” The shock in his eyes transformed into pleasure. “Welcome back! I had no idea…” He looked at Jayne Thomas. “Did I know Nola would be teaching here?”
The headmistress shook her head in mock dismay. “There were only about five memos on the topic in your box. She’s substituting for Maryann Lawrence during her maternity leave.”
Mason winced. “I tend to ignore those. Sorry.” Before Nola could prepare herself, he settled his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “That’s okay—the surprise is terrific. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Thanks.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as faint as she felt. He smelled so good, like limes and evergreens and mountain air. His mouth was firm against her skin, his shoulders broad as he came so near.
“And this, I take it,” he said, stepping back, “is…was your suitcase?” He peered down into the bag, then looked up at her, one eyebrow lifted. “I don’t think you’ll want it back.”
“Um, probably not.” She returned his grin with a smile. “Garrett can keep it for collecting purposes.”
“Cool,” Garrett said. “Dad, I need to get Homer some water. Can I take him to your lab?”
“Sure. Just don’t let him loose—the cleaning staff doesn’t like wildlife in the hallways.”
As the boy went back up the stairs, Jayne Thomas said, “I think that pretty much covers our interview, Nola. I just wanted to say welcome and encourage you to call me with any questions you have. The faculty meeting starts in ten minutes. You remember the way to the library?”
“Of course. Can I tell my driver where to take my luggage?”
“I’ve put you in Pink’s Cottage. I’ll have my secretary give him directions and a key.”
With a nod, the headmistress went back through the door into the office suite. Nola was aware of all the girls in the entry hall watching her out of the corners of their eyes. For them, this was just the arrival of a new teacher. They didn’t know the history behind her meeting—her reunion—with Mason Reed.
After an awkward pause, Mason cleared his throat. “You didn’t attend the five-year reunion for your class.”
“I was at Oxford on a fellowship. I couldn’t get back.”
He
