Author: Kristan Higgins

A few weeks ago. He’d been thinking about me weeks ago. Wow.

“Thank you, Callahan O’ Shea,” I said, leaning in to kiss him. His mouth was soft and hot, and his hand slid behind my neck, and he tasted like popcorn and butter. Warm ripples danced through my stomach until the whitehaired lady sitting behind us accidentally (or purposefully) kicked our seats. Then the lights dimmed, and I found that my heart was racing. Cal grinned, gave my hand a squeeze.

For the next few hours, I fell in love with Scarlett and Rhett all over again, my emotions as tender and raw as when I was fourteen and first read the book. I winced when Scarlett declared her love to Ashley, beamed when Rhett bid for her at the dance, cringed when Melly had her baby, bit a nail as Atlanta burned. By the last line, when Katie Scarlett O’ Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler raised her head, once again determined to get what she wanted, unbowed, unbroken, I was out and out sobbing.

“I guess I should’ve brought some Valium,” Callahan murmured as the credits rolled, handing me a napkin, since I’d run out of tissues when Rhett joined the Confederate troops outside of Atlanta.

“Thank you,” I squeaked. The white-haired lady behind us patted my shoulder as she left.

“You’re welcome,” Cal said with that grin that I was coming to love.

“Did you like it?” I managed to ask.

He turned to me, his face gentle. “I loved it, Grace,” he said.

IT WAS ALMOST NINE WHEN WE got back to Peterston. “You hungry?” Callahan asked as we passed Blackie’s.

“I’m starving,” I said.

“Great.” He pulled into the parking lot, got out and took my hand. Holding hands had to be one of the most wonderful things God ever invented, I thought as we went into the restaurant. A small but undeniable claim on someone, holding hands. And holding hands with Callahan O’ Shea was thrilling and comforting at the same time, his big hand smooth and callused and warm.

We found a booth, and Cal sat next to me, rather than across. He slid his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, and I breathed in the clean, soapy smell of him. Damn. I was in deep.

“Want some wings?” he asked, scanning the menu.

“You are definitely getting shagged tonight,” I said. “First Gone With the Wind, now buffalo wings. I can’t resist you.”

“Then my dastardly plan is working.” He turned and kissed me, that hungry, hot, soft kiss that was like caramel sauce, and I thought to myself that for the rest of my life, I would remember this as the most perfect, most romantic date I or any other woman had ever had. When I opened my eyes, Callahan O’ Shea was grinning. He pinched my chin and turned back to the menu.

I looked around the restaurant, smiling, feeling that the world was a beautiful place. A good-looking guy caught my eye and raised his beer glass. He looked familiar. Oh, yes. Eric, the window washer from Manning who loved his wife. And wasn’t she cute. They were holding hands. Another happy couple. Aw! I waved back.

“Hello there, Grace,” came a soft voice. I looked up and tried to suppress a grimace.

“Hi, Ava,” I said. “How are you?” My voice was chilly. She had, after all, gone on a date with Stuart.

“Very well, thank you,” she purred, looking at Callahan. Blink…blink…and blink again. “I’m Ava Machiatelli.”

“Callahan O’ Shea,” my boyfriend said, shaking her hand.

“I heard you had dinner with Stuart the other night,” I said.

“Mmm.” she smiled. “Poor lad. He needed a little…company.” My teeth clenched. Damn Stuart for being just another typical man, and damn Ava for being the kind of woman who had no morals when it came to sex.

Ava turned and waved toward the bar. “Kiki! Over here!” She turned back to Cal and me. “Apparently, Kiki broke up with someone over the weekend and is feeling rather devastated,” she said. “I’m administering margaritas.”

Kiki joined us, looking indeed quite tragic (and a little tipsy). “Hey, Grace. I called you about ten times today.

Remember that guy from Jitterbug’s? Well, he dumped me!” Her voice broke. She turned her gaze to Callahan.

“Hi—” Her voice broke off abruptly. “My God, it’s the ex-con!” she exclaimed, heartbreak forgotten.

“Nice to see you again,” Cal said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Ex-con?” Ava said.

There was an uncomfortable pause. I didn’t say anything…visions of trustees danced in my head. Shit.

“Embezzling, right?” Kiki said, shooting me a decidedly cool look. Ah, yes. I’d warned her off Callahan for just that reason. Damn it.

“That’s right,” Cal said.

Ava’s eyes lit up. “Embezzling. Fascinating.”

“Well,” I said. “Nice seeing you guys. Have fun.”

“Oh, we will,” Ava said with a huge smile. “So nice to meet you, Callahan.” And with that, they returned to their table.

“Everything okay?” Cal asked.

“They work at Manning,” I said, watching as Ava and Kiki sat at a table not too far away.

“Right.”

“So now everyone will know I’m dating an ex-con,” I said.

“I guess so.” His eyes were expectant.

“Well,” I said briskly, squeezing his hand. “I guess I am dating an ex-con. So there you go.” Ava’s and Kiki’s heads were together. My stomach hurt. “So. Buffalo wings it is.”

Unfortunately, I wasn’t hungry anymore.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I WENT TO SCHOOL EARLY the next morning, straight to the headmaster’s office.

I wasn’t fast enough.

“Grace. I was expecting you,” Dr. Stanton said as I sat in front of his desk like a repentant student. “I had a rather disturbing phone call from Theo Eisenbraun this morning.”

“Right.” I said, sweat breaking out on my forehead. “Um…well, I wanted to tell you myself, but I guess the news is out. But yes, I just started dating someone, and he, uh, served time for embezzlement.”

Dr. Stanton sighed. “Oh, Grace.”

“Dr. Stanton, I’d hope that my credentials stand on their own,” I said. “I love Manning, I love the kids, and I really don’t think my personal life should have anything to do with how I’m viewed as a teacher. Or, um, as a potential department chairman.”

“Of course,” he murmured. “And you’re quite right. We value you tremendously, Grace.”

Right. We both knew I was screwed. If I’d had any chance of getting the chairmanship, it was gone now. “The search committee is meeting this week, Grace. We’ll let you know.”

“Thanks,” I said, then went on to Lehring Hall, to my casket-size office and sat in the old leather chair Julian and I had found at a yard sale. Damn it. Glum, I gnawed on a fingernail, staring out the window at the beautiful campus.

The cherry blossoms waved thick and foamy, as if the tree branches had been sprayed with pink whipped cream. Graceful dogwood blossoms seemed to float on the air, and the grass glowed emerald. It was Manning’s most beautiful time. Classes ended next Wednesday, with graduation two days after that. The day before Natalie and Andrew’s wedding, actually.

Being chairman might’ve been a stretch for me—I was only thirty-one, after all, and I didn’t have a doctorate in history. Add to that the fact that I just wasn’t a political creature with minimal administrative experience, aside from heading up the curriculum committee. Maybe I’d never had a chance at all.

Still, I had made it to the final round. It might’ve just been a courtesy to a Manning faculty member. But if being with Callahan O’ Shea had tanked my chances…well. He was worth it. I hoped. No. I knew. If being passed over for chairman was the price I had to pay, so be it. Thus resolved, I left my poor fingernail alone, sat up straight and booted up my computer.

“Hello, Grace.” Ava blinked sleepily from the doorway, a knowing smile on her glossy lips. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m perfect in every way, Ava, and you?” I slapped a chipper smile on my face and waited.

“I heard you met with Dr. Stanton this morning.” She grinned. Nothing was secret at a prep school. “Dating an excon, Grace? Not much of a role model for the young minds of Manning, is it?”

“Well, if we’re examining morals, I’d say it beats dating a married coworker, Ava. One wonders.”

“One does,” she murmured. “The search committee meets Thursday, you know.”

“I heard they already made their decision,” came a rusty voice. “Good morning, ladies.”

“Good morning, Dr. Eckhart,” I said.

“Hello, there,” whispered Ava.

“A word, please, Ms. Emerson?” he croaked.

“Ta-ta,” Ava said, then swung off down the hall, her lush bottom straining the seams of her skirt.

“Have you heard?” I asked as Dr. Eckhart came into my office.

“Yes, I’ve heard, Grace. I’m here to reassure you.” He broke off into a coughing fit, sounding, as he usually did, as if he were trying to expel a small child from his lungs. When he caught his breath, he smiled with watery eyes.

“Grace, many of our own board members have had a brush with the law, especially concerning matters of creative financing. Try not to worry.”

I gave the old man a halfhearted smile. “Thanks. Have they really reached a decision?”

“From what I’ve heard, they’re finalizing the package this afternoon, but yes, I was told they agreed on someone last week. I recommended you, my dear.”

My throat tightened. “Thank you, sir. That means more to me than I can say.”

The chimes rang for first period. Dr. E. shuffled off to Medieval History with his sophomores, and I went down the hall to my seniors. Two more Civil War classes with them, then they’d be out in the world. Many of them, I’d never see again.

I pushed open the door and went in, my arrival unnoticed by my students. Hunter IV lounged in front of Kerry Blake, who was wearing a cropped, low-cut shirt that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a prostitute, but which probably cost a week of my salary. Four students were checking their BlackBerry, despite the rules against having them in class. Molly, Mallory, Madison and Meggie were trying to out-impress each other with their summer plans—one was going to Paris to intern at Chanel, another would be mountain climbing in Nepal, one had plans to white-water raft on the Colorado, and one would be, in her words, committing slow suicide by spending the summer with her family. Emma sat staring at Tommy Michener, who was dozing with his head on the desk.

Maybe I wasn’t as good a teacher as I thought. For all my best intentions, had I really taught these kids what I wanted them to learn? Would they ever understand how important it was to know our past? And add to that the fact that I’d just killed my chances of becoming chairman, and I felt something inside me snap.

“Good morning, princes and princesses!” I barked, earning a gratifying jump from many of them. “This weekend, my lovely children, is the reenactment of the Battle of Gettysburg.” Groans. Eye rolling. “You are required to attend. Failure to do so will result in an F in class participation, which, as I’m sure you remember, is worth one third of your grade, and even though you’ve all gotten into college, I do believe you’re supposed to maintain a healthy grade point average. Am I right? I am. Meet me in front of the building Saturday morning, 9:00 a.m.”

Their mouths hung open with horror, and for a second, they were unable to find their voices. And then came the chorus. “It’s not fair! I have lacrosse/soccer/tickets! My parents will—”

I let them protest for a minute, then smiled and said simply, “Nonnegotiable.”