The Right Time (67 page)

Hennessy sat on the desk, scooting back so she could let her legs dangle. “Not a lot. A computer, a good color printer, unless you’re planning on having our promotional materials done elsewhere… If so, a black and white one’s cheaper.” She thought for a moment. “A file cabinet and some office supplies. We can use the scanner in the main office, along with the fax machine. No sense in duplicating things we won’t use often. That’s about it.”

Townsend sat on her own desk, mirroring Hennessy. “I can go pick all of that up today.”

“You can?” Her eyebrows hiked up as high as they went. “You’ve got that kind of authority?”

“Yep.” She grinned devilishly. “I told Mary Ann I needed signing authority for up to ten thousand dollars. She didn’t blink.”

“Day-uhm!” Hennessy moaned. “When Mary Ann gives you that kind of money to spend, you’ve convinced her you can walk on water.”

“We’ll just see, won’t we,” she said, not showing the slightest bit of doubt. “I’ll go shopping right now if you can’t think of anything else. Want to go with me?”

“Sure. But let me at least show you what I’ve devised as a working calendar.” She pulled out a big roll of butcher paper, upon which she’d neatly drawn each month, with notes scribbled along it. “Take a look at this and see if it sounds right.”

Townsend got up and spread it across their desks, her index finger running across the months as she made a few quiet murmurs of approval. “When’s Easter?”

Hennessy pointed to a date. “That’s why there’s a decorated egg there. Are you unfamiliar with standard calendar notations?”

“My bad. They must teach you that when you get your doctorate.” When her finger hit the end of their year—the end of May, she stood back and took another look at the whole thing. “How many sessions?”

“Twelve, spaced over twenty weeks. The intro classes will be for a week, two for more advanced work and three for the masters session. We’ll only have one of those this year.”

Townsend moved back and took another long look at the schedule. “If we fill every bed for every week, we’ve got twelve hundred slots, but we’ll make a profit if we can pull eight hundred.” She turned and gave Hennessy a sober look. “Can we do it?”

“I think so. Most programs like this are in the summer, but I know there are a lot of people who have free time during the year. Finding eight hundred of them shouldn’t be too hard.”

Townsend clapped her hands together, confidence back in place. “This looks great. I’ve already hired a local graphic designer, and we’re going to meet with her this afternoon. By the end of the week she’ll have a draft of our catalogue, then we can start beating the bushes, finding students.”

Hennessy’s eyes grew big. “Don’t forget I’ve got to find a bunch of instructors.”

Townsend gave her a slap on the back. “You won’t have any trouble. We’re going to pay decently, and the cabins are going to be really nice. This will be like a vacation for writing teachers, and I’m sure you know lots of them, all of them probably needing a break.”

“I do,” Hennessy said. “And since most of the ones I know live in Boston, they’ll all be itching to get away from home for a few weeks once it gets cold.”

“Then we’re good. Now let’s go buy some computers.”

Hennessy slung her arm around Townsend’s shoulders and pulled her close for a hug. “I know I’ve said this a dozen times, but I’m going to have to say it a dozen more. Thank you for this.”

Townsend laughed. “You might not be thanking me when we’re trying to juggle a bunch of picky novice writers along with a smaller bunch of teachers. It’s gonna be crazy the first year. Guaranteed.”

“I don’t care if I have to fight off a den of panthers. This is the job I’ve wanted my whole damned life, Townsend, and I’m forever in your debt for making my dream a reality.”

“This is a new dream for me, but I couldn’t ask for anyone better to start it off with. We’re gonna rock this place, baby girl. In a few years, people are going to be knocking each other over to get a spot at The Academy.”

Hennessy stuck her hand out and Townsend shook it, firmly. “I’d hate to be the fool who thinks he can stop us.”

They’d spent the day getting their new computers set up, meeting with the designer and directing the camp handyman in where they wanted their whiteboards. By six, Hennessy’s stomach started to rumble.

“Is that a hint?” Townsend asked, looking up from her computer.

“Hungry. I’ve got to run over to the mess hall to get some dinner before they close.”

Townsend stood, stretched and powered down her computer. “Don’t think so. You’ve going to get in my car, go to the grocery store, then run by the home store to pick up the bare necessities for cooking dinner. I will not have you spending your evenings with children.”

“Really?” She knew she looked like a puppy who’d just been promised a walk, but she was definitely not looking forward to listening to a bunch of little girls giggle all evening.

“Really. I plan on relaxing at the end of the day by making a nice dinner. And my dinner will be so much nicer if I have you…doing at least half of the work.”

Hennessy laughed. “I can do more than half. Do you have a barbecue grill?”

“Nope.”

“Then we need to make three stops. It’ll be dark as pitch by the time we’re eating, but it’ll be worth it.”

Hennessy struggled to get the barbecue grill assembled in the waning light, her job made more difficult with the rudimentary tools at her disposal. A basic tool set would be her housewarming gift. That was something Townsend would need, and wouldn’t think to buy.

Lost in thought, she didn’t hear Townsend come down the steps. When a flashlight illuminated the bolt she was trying to tighten, she jumped, then let out a laugh. “You’re as quiet as a cat.”

“Not really,” Townsend said. “You’re concentrating.”

“That I am.” She stood tall and looked at the grill critically. “A good wind would have this in pieces, but I think it’ll hold together enough for our dinner.”

“I brought the charcoal down. Want me to dump it in?”

“Dump it in?” Hennessy gave her a look. “I can tell I’m going to have to school you in proper barbecue technique.”

A warm hand settled upon the small of her back. “No need. I’ll leave that to you.” Then she was gone, with the lingering touch of her hand making Hennessy’s skin tingle.

It didn’t take as long as Hennessy had predicted, but it was pitch dark by the time she brought the crispy-skinned, sauce-laden pieces of chicken up to the kitchen. “My eyes feel like they’ve had sand blown into them.”

Townsend had spent the last half hour shining her flashlight onto Hennessy’s work surface, proving herself a very able nighttime barbecue assistant. “Mine did too. Go wash your face. That helped a lot. By the time you come back, your dinner will be awaiting you.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

A few minutes later, Hennessy sat on the porch, with her plate balanced on her knees. She was sure Townsend would soon have proper chairs and tables and all sorts of other furnishings, but she was as happy as a dead pig in the sunshine with nothing more than screens surrounding her and a place to park her butt.

The chicken was still hot, and she tried to get her mouth around it without scalding herself. Townsend went for the more refined tactic of using a knife and fork, and as the first bite entered her mouth Hennessy felt a chill run down her body, landing where it shouldn’t have landed. The pleasured growl Townsend let out, combined with the sated grin on her pretty face was about all Hennessy could bear.

“This might be the best thing I’ve had in my mouth in years,” she said, her voice close to a moan. She looked unquestionably happy, but that wasn’t what made Hennessy squirm. It was the look in her eyes. Yes, tonight that look was for food, but Hennessy could easily see it brandished during lovemaking. Could easily see that same expression suffuse her features moments after an orgasm—an image Hennessy could not,
would
not allow herself to conjure.

She had to get herself in check, and she had to do it now. It was wrong on many levels, and supremely disrespectful to Kate. Ignoring the temperature, she picked up a thigh and took a bite, letting hot juices run down her chin.
Focus on the food!
That seemed to do the trick, as the rewards of her efforts flooded her taste buds. “Not bad, if I do say so myself. If this program doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll add on and make it Boudreaux’s Fish Shack and Barbecue Pit.”

“That would be a hit,” Townsend agreed, “but you’re going to be full-time busy on Hilton Head, only smelling of smoke at the end of the day.”

It was after eleven when Hennessy got into Townsend’s little car to head back to camp. Once she’d gotten herself in hand, it had been so damned much fun to goof off with someone you enjoyed as much as she did Townsend. This was exactly what she and Kate should have been doing…if they ever had a whole evening free…and a barbecue grill…and a yard to put the grill in…and a porch to sit on and talk after the meal. Thoughts of poor Kate stopping at the little Greek deli on her way home from the T filled her with guilt. Kate wasn’t the type to spend the time cooking for herself. Hennessy let out a sigh. No matter how bad she felt, she couldn’t make Kate treat herself the way she would if she were there. She wasn’t there, and that was by her own choice. Every decision had repercussions—sometimes hurting the bystanders more than the participants. Filling her mind with Kate’s image, she resolved to keep her foremost in her heart and her imagination. Exactly where she belonged, no matter how many miles separated them.

Sharing an office was
surprisingly easy to do—or maybe it was just easy when your office mate was Hennessy. She was the kind of woman who put her head down and didn’t pick it up until hunger pangs got her attention. No idle chat, no insisting that you look at a funny video, no whispered suggestions that they go jump in the ocean and blow off the afternoon.

Townsend didn’t have that same kind of focus—most of the time, at least. Many were the days, like today, when she let Hennessy’s calm, assured voice lure her away from whatever she’d been trying to get done and simply listen to her sweet talk yet another instructor into joining them.

Today’s conversation didn’t bring out Hennessy’s persuasive skills. Instead of her usual upright, militaristic posture, she’d leaned back in her chair and propped a foot on a pulled out drawer. She wasn’t as relaxed as she would have been speaking with a friend, but it was close. When the receiver hit the cradle, Hennessy let out a soft “Yes!” then sat up and focused on her keyboard, starting to type away.

As she often did, Townsend picked up a pink paper clip and tossed it at her, always trying to get one stuck in Hennessy’s hair. “You can’t make those happy little exclamations and not tell me what you’re quietly celebrating.”

“I thought you were working,” Hennessy said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she deftly removed the clip from her hair. She knew full well Townsend was as easily distracted as a two-year-old; she politely didn’t acknowledge that.