Package Deal(7)

“Let me guess. He considers your joint office his private territory,” Greg declared, his fingers forming a tent in front of his face.

Amanda could not suppress a soft chuckle. “How did you know?”

“It’s my business to know what goes on in my department. I’ll talk to him. The two of you are equally entitled to use that space until the renovations are completed. It’s not his alone.” He smiled at her, his green eyes bright against his pale skin. He stood up and reached for her hand. “Amanda. You have a bright future here. I want you to know we’ll do everything we can to help you achieve what you want to accomplish.”

“Thank you.” Relieved, she turned to go.



That Friday, just as she prepared to go upstairs to kiss Cecelia good night, the phone rang.

“Amanda, it’s Marcus—Dunbar, journalism. Remember me?”

“Did you forget a question for your article?”Did her voice betray her pleasure at hearing from him?

“Not for the article. When we had coffee the other day, you said you wanted to get to know the area. I’d like to volunteer as your tour guide.”

“When do you suggest we do that?”

“How about this weekend?”

“I’m sure my daughter would love that.” She had promised Cecelia they would reserve Saturdays for the two of them. “She’s welcome to come, too, isn’t she?”

His long pause told her he hadn’t expected to make their tour a threesome, but he recovered quickly. “Of course, yes, that would be okay.”

“When should we be ready?” She twirled a pen as she waited for his reply, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind.

“How about ten?”

“Great! Do you need my address?”

“No. Beatrice gave it to me already.”

“We’ll see you then.” When did he talk to Beatrice? She hung up and headed for the stairs, more excited than she wanted to admit.

But her mother’s pointed questions during their last phone conversation reverberated in her mind.

“Well? Have you met anyone at that college yet? Or in town?”

“I’ve met lots of people, Mother.”

“What about the soccer coach? Cecelia says he’s very nice. What does he do for a living? Is he married?”

“He’s a teacher at the Campus School—and, yes, he’s married. Besides, he’s in his late forties. Don’t you think that’s a little old for me?” Amanda gritted her teeth, wanting to change the subject.

“Well, what about the other faculty members? Are they all married? And old, older than you? You’re going to be thirty-three your next birthday. Your friends from high school … all but one of them are married and having babies—have been for the last few years. You should have thought of that when you went back to grad school and then you took that job.”

“Mother!” Amanda paced. “I didn’t come here to find a husband.I was hired to do a job. If I find someone I like, I’m sure Cecelia will tell you all about him. For now, there is nothing to tell.” She had slammed the phone back in its cradle and stepped outside to sit on the porch steps to calm down.

Maybe her mother was right, that it was time to begin a social life again. And she did want to find out if Marc Dunbar was as nice as he seemed. Something told her he was more than a handsome face and a smart mind in a buff body, as if that wasn’t enough. And maybe, if they went out, she might even tell … but no, she couldn’t do that. If her mother knew, she’d never hear the end of the questions, the prying.

Amanda woke early on Saturday.

“Come on, Cece. Professor Dunbar is going to give us a tour around town. We have to be ready on time.” Amanda opened the curtains in Cecelia’s room, allowing morning light to fill the room.

“Do I have to?” Cecelia turned her back to the window. “I’d rather read my new book.”

“Yes, we have to. It’s not polite to say we’ll go and then we don’t.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to go. You said that.” Her daughter rolled over and pulled the covers over her head.

“Cece. I’m not going to tell you again. It’s time to get up! You can bring your book with you if you want. Your waffle is going to be cold if you don’t hurry. I expect you downstairs in five minutes. Why don’t you wear your favorite jeans—the ones with the polka dots on the pockets.”

Cecelia was sitting on the couch when Marcus knocked on the door. She raised her voice. “Mom! He’s here.”

When Cecelia opened the door and he walked in, Amanda said, “Marcus, this is Cecelia.”