Saving a Legend(9)

“Working with kids?” Kieran’s brows shot up, unsure if the officer knew what he was saying. “I don’t really have any experience with children. Plus, do parents want an ex-con around their kids?”

Huppert waved his hand, dismissing his worries.

“Doesn’t matter, you’ll learn. You’ve got a college degree, and that’s a hell of a lot more than most of my other parolees have. This youth center has mainly at-risk kids, even though it isn’t solely for that. Administrators there think someone with your background could help get through to some of these kids. Scare-them-straight kind of thing. It’s a new initiative, so we’ll see how it goes.”

“What will I be doing there?”

“Tutoring mainly, but also doing whatever the hell the admin wants you to do. You’ll be there three hours a day, every afternoon, Monday through Friday. Here’s the information and address. Ask for Ms. Hannigan when you arrive. She’s expecting you as soon as we’re done here, for a tour and all that, so you should get going.”



“Yes, sir.” Kieran took the paper offered to him and left the office.

His parole officer was a no-nonsense kind of guy, and Kieran appreciated that—a clear and straight talker was just the type of person he liked to deal with.

Woodlawn was a small neighborhood, all within walking distance, and he arrived at the Woodlawn Youth Center only fifteen minutes later. The run-down building outside was dull and parts were marked with graffiti; one of the windows was covered with cardboard.

As he pulled on the door handle, the front door scraped open with a loud groan that caused his whole body to tense. He really needed this to go well, starting with a good first impression. Luckily, the room he had just stepped into was empty, except for the young woman sitting at a desk on which a tiny plaque read receptionist.

“Hi, I’m looking for Ms. Hannigan. Can you point me in the right direction?” Kieran asked, giving her a friendly smile.

“Sure, and you are?” She pushed her glasses up her nose and lifted the phone receiver to her ear, her hand hovering over the number pad.

“Kieran Kavanagh.”

“Kavanagh? As in the Kavanaghs?” She did a double take, perusing him slowly this time. “The one who just got out of prison?”

“Uh,” he stuttered. He knew everyone in Woodlawn talked, but he had been unprepared for her directness.

Finally, he nodded, doing his best not to show his annoyance. The receptionist turned her attention back to the phone and dialed an extension, telling the person on the other end in a hushed tone that he had arrived. Kieran wandered away from the desk and looked around the room as he waited.



It was on the small side and set up similar to a doctor’s office, with chairs and low tables holding a clutter of teen magazines. The ceiling was low—Kieran’s head was only a few inches from brushing it. There were colorful, inspirational posters on the walls, including one of a kitten holding on to a tree branch, with the quote hang in there. Nothing in the room matched, but somehow the random collection of different-colored furniture worked.

“Mr. Kavanagh?” a young woman called from behind him, and he turned back to the receptionist to see a thin woman of average height standing next to her.

The new woman had tight, blond curls that hung down to her shoulders and reminded him a little bit of his brother’s girlfriend, Clare. She offered her hand to him, smiling warmly as her hazel eyes sparkled. Everything about her was relaxed and casual, probably the best sort of person to manage a center for at-risk kids.

“That’s me,” he confirmed as he took her small hand in his large grip, impressed that someone so young ran everything. She made him think of Fiona from the flower shop, someone else so young and in charge of her own business.

“I’m Nora Hannigan, the youth program’s main coordinator, but just call me Nora. May I call you Kieran?”

He smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

“We’re happy to have you working with us over the next few months.” She beamed at him with a quirky, slightly off-center grin, and he wondered why he was thinking about Fiona when such a gorgeous woman was standing right in front of him.



“Uh, thanks. I’m a bit surprised to hear that,” he admitted.

“Why?” She furrowed her brow as she motioned for him to follow her through a door that led farther into the building.

“The whole just-got-out-of-prison-and-on-parole thing, maybe? Your receptionist seemed less than impressed.”

“Oh, that. Well, that doesn’t bother me at all, and it won’t bother the kids. Most of them have at least one parent in prison, if not both, or know someone who is. We’re hoping they’ll find you relatable, and that you’ll influence them in a positive way.”