“Just out of curiosity,” she says, “what was last night’s MacGregor fundraiser for?”
I give a watery chuckle. “The Sense Scotland Foundation. They’re a charity that supports complex communication needs. They donate devices to the school all the time.”
“Agh!” Meera shrieks. “If ye dinnae sue him, I will!”
After a quick cry in the empty room and scrubbing away the evidence, I paste a big smile on my face as I walk into my Juniors Class. These bairns are between five and twelve, and they’re getting so confident with their signing.
How’s everyone today?I sign.
Good!
Grand.
Not so bad.
I got my phone taken away last night.
The surly comment comes from Roger, a twelve-year-old with a perpetually pouty expression and the quickest mind of any bairn in the class.
Though getting him to sit still is about as easy as wrestling a Tasmanian Devil into a sundress.
I’m glad to know,I sign,except for your news, Roger.He gives me a shrug.
So, I thought we’d try something new today,I sign.You’ve all been moving ahead so fast with the lessons that I think ye deserve a little something extra.
Ah, that’s got their attention.
I learned how to read lips back when I started losing my hearing. I want to teach you all a bit. It can definitely come in handy.
Like, if ye wanna be a spy?Roger signs.
Exactly that,I wink.Ye deserve every advantage, aye? Think how handy it would be to get a better idea of what’s going on around ye.
The unwelcome vision of reading those arseholes lips last night rises up tauntingly, and I shove it back down. I have a class to teach.
My students are having a wonderful time misreading almost every word out of my mouth, but by lunchtime, everyone’s managed to interpret a short sentence.
Just as I’m escorting them into the lunchroom, my phone buzzes. It’s Lucy, our secretary in the headmaster’s office. “Arabella, ye have a visitor at the front desk.”
I’ve been expecting a delivery for some refurbished iPads for my kids, but not the giant man in a suit, grinning down at me like the devil himself.
“What are ye doinghere?”
Chapter Six
In which Logan redeems himself with charm and takeaway.
Arabella…
“Hello, Miss Blair, I’ve brought ye lunch.” He smiles down at me, looking like a well-groomed businessman versus the knife-wielding wraith I know he truly is. He’s holding an enormous bag of takeaway and opens it to put two of the containers on Lucy’s desk. “A hard-working lass like ye rarely gets to leave your desk for a proper lunch, aye?”
Lucy is forty-seven, stern, and if a pleasant disposition is searching for her, they’ve not yet met. I’ve tried to suck up to her all year with little treats like snacks and a potted plant, and never got her to crack a smile. But with him? Her cheeks are flushed pink and it’s possible she might be giggling.
“Well, thank you, Mr. MacTavish-”
“Please,” he put a hand to his chest, the smarmy bastard, “do call me Logan, and may I call you Lucy?”
“Of course!” She’s beaming. I canna help but feel put out that I’ve been currying her favor for months and he’s got her charmed in less than the two minutes it took me to get to the office.
