Page 52 of Just Like Home

She looked up at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring into the large classroom. “Can I go in?”

He nodded.

The classroom was sparsely decorated—plain, she’d call it, with a big whiteboard at the front, football plaques and photos plastered to the wall in a row near the ceiling that went all the way around.

“You’ve been coaching for a while, then?”

“Some of these I inherited,” he said.

“State champions?” She stood in front of the fanciest-looking of all the plaques.

“That one’s mine.”

“That’s what they were talking about at the meeting the other night,” she said. “You must be good at your job.”

Not surprisingly, he didn’t respond.

“And you teach history?” She could tell by the other artwork that lined the classroom walls that this was a place to learn where the country came from—images of presidents and a replica of the Declaration of Independence.

He nodded.

“For some reason I thought you were just a coach,” she said.

“Most coaches also teach,” he told her. “Some teachers also coach.”

“What do you like better—coaching or teaching?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, and for the first time she noticed he still wore a whistle around his neck. “Well, most people see me as a coach.”

She frowned. He’d avoided her question. But since he’d stopped being cranky, she decided to let it slide.

A woman poked her head in the door. “I thought I saw you come in here.”

Cole gave her a nod, and Charlotte noticed he wasn’t any friendlier to this woman than he was to anyone else. It gave her hope that it wasn’t Charlotte he despised, though she wasn’t sure that should be comforting. Wasn’t despising people in general worse than simply not liking her?

She shook the thought away. Trying to figure this guy out was pointless.

“Hi,” the woman said, looking at Charlotte.

“Oh, sorry,” Cole said. “Rachel Kent, this is Charlotte Page. Rachel’s the art teacher.”

Charlotte smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

“Charlotte Page?” Rachel eyed her. “The dancer?”

Charlotte felt her face flush. “Yes.”

“I heard you’re helping plan Julianna’s recital.”

“I am,” she said. “Do you want to be a part of it?”

Rachel waved her off. “Oh, my sister is the dancer in our family. I mostly stay behind the scenes.”

Charlotte smiled. “I’m working on a few tribute numbers—for Jules. Tried to twist Cole’s arm, but—”

“You should do it,” Rachel said. “Think of what a kick Julianna would’ve gotten out of that.” Her smile was so genuine, and Cole’s was its exact opposite.

“Pass,” he said.

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