Vision in White

“Don’t apologize to me. You’ll piss me off.” She glanced at the studio space, noted the backdrop, the floor pillows. “You’ve got the engagement shoot. Soon,” she realized with a glance at her watch. “I’ll be quick.”

“How’d the consult go?”

“We didn’t get the job.”

“Did she cry or yell?”

“A little of both, with bribes and insults.”

“It’s amazing. She’s amazing. She really believes everyone’s world should revolve around her.” Weary of it, Mac pressed her fingers to her eyes and rubbed. “Within the hour, she’ll have turned this around to she was only asking as a favor to us, to try to boost the business. She was secretly relieved when we couldn’t manage the job, probably because it was too big for our business.”

“She was already on the way there when she walked out the door.”

“It’s a skill. Maybe it’ll last this time. The marriage, I mean. It’s pretty clear the guy’s got money, and plenty of it.”

“Bright side? She’ll be moving to New York.”

Mac paused. “I didn’t think of that. That whizzed by me. That’s a very bright side.” Still Mac sighed and moved in to drop her head on Parker’s shoulder. “Oh God, she tires me out.”

“I know.” Parker wrapped her arms around Mac in a hard hug. “Be okay,” Parker ordered.

“I will.”

“You want to come for ice cream after the shoot?”

“I might.”

“There’re the clients. I’ll get out of your way.”

“Parker? Even if we’d had the date open . . .”

“Oh, baby,” Parker said with some cheer as she went to the door. “No way in hell.”

With a shake of her head, Mac ordered herself not to feel guilty about that. At least not until after the shoot.

CARTER LOADED THE STACK OF ESSAYS IN HIS BRIEFCASE. THEY rode in the section that held a stack of test papers. His homework, he mused. He wondered if students had any idea how much homework the average teacher hauled away from the classroom every day.

On the board behind him he’d written the springboard for the essays he’d read that night.

Explore and compare the attitudes and philosophies of Rosalind and Jaques on love, and why you think each holds them.

The optimist and the pessimist, Carter thought, the melancholy and the joyful. His goal in the in-depth study of the play had been to guide his students under the surface of what might appear to be a light romantic comedy full of jokes and clever banter to the currents beneath.

Under all that, Carter supposed, his goal was to make his students think.

“Excuse me? Dr. Maguire?”

He glanced over at the woman in the doorway. “Yes. Can I help you?”

“I’m Suzanne Byers, Garrett’s mother.”

“Mrs. Byers, it’s nice to meet you. Come in.”

“I hoped to catch you before you left for the day. I won’t take up much of your time.”

“It’s no problem.”

“I couldn’t make Parents’ Night. I was down with the flu. I’d wanted to come, especially to speak to you. I guess you know Garrett didn’t have a strong start at the academy last year. And he didn’t come out of the starting gate with a bang this year either.”

“He’s made considerable progress, I think. Finding his stride. He’s bright. His participation in class has taken an upturn, and so have his grades and test scores this last semester.”

“I know. That’s why I wanted to speak to you. His father and I had been discussing taking him out of the academy.”

“I hope you won’t. Garrett—”

“Had been,” she interrupted. “We worked with him, threatened him, bribed him, tried private tutoring. Nothing got through, and we felt we were tossing away the tuition. Until a few months ago. It was like a light went on. He talks about books. He actually studies. He was genuinely disappointed when he got a B on his last paper in your class. I couldn’t speak for ten minutes when he told me, with some heat, he was going to ace the next one.”

“He could. He has the potential.”

“He talks about you. Dr. Maguire says, Dr. Maguire thinks. His grades in his other classes are improving—not by leaps and bounds, but they’re better. You did that.”

“Garrett did that.”

“You . . . engaged him so that he could do that. Would do that. He’s talking about taking your creative writing course next year. He thinks he may want to be a writer.” Her eyes filled. “Last year he barely passed. We had to meet with the dean. And now he’s telling me about Shakespeare, and he thinks he may want to be a writer.”

She blinked at the tears while he stood, speechless. “Dr. Maguire, according to Garrett, is pretty cool for a brainiac. I wanted you to know that whatever he does, whatever he becomes, he’s never going to forget you. I wanted to thank you.”

CARTER WALKED INTO MAC’S STUDIO WITH A LARGE PIZZA AND a light step. She sat on the sofa, her feet propped on the coffee table.

“Pizza,” he said, walking into the kitchen to set it on the counter. “I knew you had an afternoon shoot, and I have a briefcase full of papers to grade, so I thought pizza. Plus, it’s a happy food. I had a really good day.”

She groaned a little and had him crossing to her with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Mostly. Pizza. I have a gallon of ice cream in my stomach. Possibly two gallons.”