Page 6 of Echoes of a Silent Song
“Madrigals is our next class.”Her voice was a crisp staccato.“You’ll want to start with uniforms sooner rather than later.”
“Of course.”
“Today, if possible.Especially for the new members.The company we use is wonderful, but they aren’t the speediest in the world, so time is of the essence.”Her foot wasn’t actually tapping with impatience but might as well have been.
“Yes.On it.”The beginnings of a headache throbbed at his temples.
“And make sure you remind the afternoon choirs of the deadline for the signed page of the choir handbook.You forgot that this morning.”
He dug in his desk drawer for the ibuprofen he hoped to God he’d remembered to bring in.“Anything else?”
She hesitated, her lips tightening ever so slightly.“Only this.”And then she held the cup out to him.Steam piped up from the little hole in the lid, and the life-giving aroma of coffee reached his nostrils.
Coffee?For him?
Oh, he could have kissed her.
“They’re free for staff today, courtesy of Pat’s.”His expression must have been quizzical, because she offered an apologetic half smile.“It’s our student-run coffee shop.It isn’t the best coffee in the world—or even the best coffee in Peterson, for that matter.But it’s here, and it gets the job done.”She set the cup on the corner of his desk.“They tend to go fast when they’re free, so I wanted to make sure you got one.”
“Thank you,” he managed.
But she’d already turned back toward the door.“I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your lunch.”And then she was gone, the door clicking behind her.
Did she normally eat in here, needing quiet as much as he did?Or did she have a friend or two she ate with?Did she bring a lunch?Buy one from the cafeteria?Was the Mexican place around the corner better than it looked?
He hadn’t bothered to ask.
He’d barely spoken to her at all today, other than to ask for starting pitches.
And yet she’d brought him an olive branch.The cup of coffee he didn’t know how badly he needed until it appeared in front of him.Hetook a sip.She hadn’t oversold the brew.It definitely wasn’t the best coffee in the world.Likely not even the best coffee in Peterson, although he made a mental note to ask her where said coffee could be found.
But right now, on his first teaching day in a job he still hoped was a bad dream ...it meant the world.
He had no idea if he could survive the year or not.
But thanks to this coffee, he just might make it through the rest of the day.
Chapter Three
MS.EM!”Thalia Jones, a senior soprano, wrapped Blair in an enthusiastic hug as kids filed into the choir room for Madrigals after lunch.
“So good to see you, Thalia.”Blair returned the embrace.“That haircut is perfection on you.”
“Thank you.”Thalia grinned and fluffed her hair, now much shorter, curlier, and redder.“My mom hates it.”
“Which I suspect is part of the appeal for you?”
Thalia’s grin widened.“You know it.She—”
“Hey.”An ear-splitting baritone yell sliced through the din.Blair and Thalia both jumped.The choir fell silent.And Callum, the source of the sound, stood beside the piano.
“The bell rang,” he said to the class.“Though it’s clear none of you heard it through that unholy racket you were making.”
Unholy racket?It’s the first day.Cut them some slack.She bit back the words.
“We’ll talk later.”Blair motioned toward the risers, and Thalia cast a reluctant glance toward Callum as she ascended to her spot on the top row of the soprano section.
The rest of the choir turned wary attention to the wild-haired man in the center of the room.
