honest truth.” When Juliet’s face clouded with confusion, she explained, “My work’s inspired by the movement for Negro rights. Right now, I’m studying the history of the NAACP.”
“Ah.” Her tone gave away neither approval nor disapproval. “But I don’t see why that would lead to this particular book.”
The statement felt like a fishing expedition, and Gen hoped she hadn’t misjudged Juliet as a confidante. She quickly stuffed the book back in her bag.
“Have you told anyone?” Juliet asked.
“You.”
Juliet bowed with a shy smile. “I’m honored you trusted me.”
A prolonged silence followed in which Gen nibbled at the scone that now tasted like buttered cardboard, and Juliet took repeated sips of her Earl Grey.
“Well,” Juliet said finally to break the spell, “aren’t we the happy professors? Sometimes I really wonder what I was thinking to choose this life.”
Gen started at the statement. She didn’t recall choosing teaching, only that she had determined in childhood not to get married—even though at the time, she wasn’t aware of her interest in other women. There were so few career options for girls. She quailed at the sight of blood, so nursing was out, and teaching became the default. In the summers when grammar school let out, Gen practiced her instructional skills by coercing her younger sister, Dottie, and other neighborhood children into reading and spelling exercises in their backyard. Dottie just wanted to swim and play, and she finally complained to their mother. Mama promptly ended the lessons and pronounced her older daughter “too pushy for your own good.”
Gen and Juliet settled the bill and parted company with a promise of getting together again before too much time passed.
“Why haven’t we been friends?” Juliet said.
“We can fix that now.”
In the years with Carolyn, she’d put such store in a tight circle, one that didn’t have room for new members. Now she felt lighter with one more person to confide in.
Chapter Six
Fenton
The cast for Charley’s Aunt hadn’t bailed on him, but Fenton lost his stage manager to vague “other commitments” just one week into rehearsals. He latched onto an idea he’d resorted to once in the past—co-stage managers, so there was always a spare. He summoned Margaret Sutter and Susanna Carr, who each had a minor part in the production, to ask if they’d be interested in doubling up.
“I have so much going on, Mr. Page,” Margaret said. “You know, learning my lines, but also all my classes.”
“How much work is it?” Susanna asked.
Fenton almost told the truth about the list of tasks, but he quickly pivoted to a sunnier version of the job. “Oh, it can be a lot of fun,” he said. “You attend all the rehearsals, but the beauty of co-managers is you can split the dates and not have to show up as often. You prompt the cast if they drop their lines, and you record my blocking of scenes and help actors who forget. You boss people around. I did it in college and had a blast.”
Margaret side-eyed Susanna, as if waiting for the other girl to volunteer first, but Susanna was feigning interest in the framed Broadway Playbills that lined Fenton’s walls. Neither budged for several long moments.
And then his intercom buzzed.
Fenton punched the button. The secretary of the Art, Theater, and Music Departments said, “Call for you, Mr. Page.”
“Could you take a message, Joan? I’m with students right now.” He tossed the girls a smile.
“It’s the police chief,” Joan said without the customary chirp in her voice. “I told him you were busy, but he said it was important he talk to you right away.”
Both students’ eyes widened, and Fenton picked up the receiver. “One second, Joan. Girls, would you mind—?” He motioned toward the door, and Margaret and Susanna obliged.
“Fenton Page.”
“Mr. Page, Chief Maynard with the Springboro Police. I’m wondering if you could stop into the department, say, today at three?”
Fenton’s throat constricted, but he managed a polite refusal. “I’m afraid I’m teaching at three today, and then I have rehearsals for the school play that will last into the evening. Could you tell me what this is about?”
Fenton knew already. He had read the lead story in the morning paper three times: “RAIDS SPARK WIDER INVESTIGATION IN VICE ROUNDUP.” His heart had picked up speed thinking the police might have already cracked Mark’s diary code or that his former lover might have named names to lessen his own punishment.
The chief’s voice was modulated and professional as he explained that they were casting a wide net in the vice investigation. There was no cause for alarm, he said. He used the term “person of interest” that Fenton had noted in the news story.
“I don’t know what that means, person of interest,” Fenton admitted.
“It means someone who might be able to provide us with more information that could help with our investigation.”
“Investigation” reverberated in Fenton’s ears. “Did someone suggest me?”
Maynard leisurely exhaled and dodged the question. “It’ll take maybe thirty minutes.”
Fenton paused as if checking a date book. “I can spare thirty minutes tomorrow at eleven-thirty.”
“All right then, Mr. Page. We’ll see you then.”
“Chief,” Fenton said before he hung up, “do I need a lawyer?”
“No, that’s not necessary. You have a good day now.”
The receiver missed the cradle and Fenton had to try again.
Through the frosted glass panel of his office door, Fenton spied one shadowy outline. Only Susanna Carr remained, waiting for him, her eyes still big and round.
“Margaret left?” He glanced around, disappointed. “Did she say she’d be back?”
“She might have said she had class. You know, we’re not friends.”
His heart was still pounding in his ears from the exchange with Chief Maynard. “You don’t have to be friends with everyone you work with, Miss Carr.”
Fenton rarely used last names, and the girl looked stricken. She stammered, “I wanted to tell you I’ll do it by myself, the . . . the stage manager thing. I’d rather not have to do it with her. I can give up the Ela role. I don’t care.”
He had meandered into some student feud, probably about a boy. He wanted to scream at her, Some of us have real problems!
There was no time for petty intrigue or regret. Fenton accepted Susanna’s offer to take over the
