“Works for me.”
He shouldn’t push his luck. But he did it anyway. “I want every night, all through July and August. Every night you’ll give me—maybe some days, too. If you’re not teaching your workshops, if I don’t have fences down, if you’ve got time to spare.”
She laughed. He drank in the sound. “The whole idea is it’s just for the summer. And we play it by ear.”
“I’m aware.”Two months.It wasn’t enough. Now he just needed to make her see that. He tugged on the pointy collar of her fancy Western shirt. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”
She laid her hand on his chest and lifted up to kiss him again. “I really do need to go.”
Reluctantly, he stepped aside. He and Slim followed her out. Slim at his feet, he stood on the porch waving as she backed out and drove off.
When he looked down at Slim, the dog whined, a questioning sound. “All right. Go on. Take care of your business and let’s get some sleep.”
Callie, all dressed and ready for work, was sitting at the table sipping coffee and reading theBronco Bulletinwhen Van finished showering, putting on her makeup, getting dressed and fixing her hair just so. Being a beauty queen entailed way too much grooming, in her humble opinion. She’d run through her limited wardrobe of Miss Bronco–worthy Western shirts, so she’d recycled the shirt she’d worn to the rodeo.
“There’s coffee,” Callie said. “And you’re going to need some more sparkly shirts.”
“Yeah.” Van poured herself a mug. “Lucky for me, this is the last event I’ve got to attend in my official capacity till the end of the month. I’ll make time before then to go shopping, maybe go hog wild and get some showy hats and cool boots, too.” She sipped coffee and lifted the cover off the plate Callie had left on the counter. “Yum. French toast.”
“Figured you might be hungry.”
“Have I told you lately that I love you?”
“Love you, too. Eat your breakfast. Don’t be late.”
“Yes, Mother.” She joined her roomie at the table and dug in. “So good. Thank you.”
“Mmm-hmm. Have a nice time last night?”
“I had a wonderful time.”
“Good.” Callie turned the newspaper around so Van could see the front-page news. The headline read, A Miss Bronco Like No Other.
The picture showed Van onstage Friday in her old jeans and T-shirt, her hair in a messy bun, wearing her winner’s banner, looking faintly bewildered as last year’s Miss Bronco placed the crown on her head. “Like no other, indeed.”
“Face it. You’re a star.”
Van loved teaching high school science. But this summer, she had tweens and early teens in her science, technology, engineering and mathematics workshop—and they were a whole lot of fun.
DIY bottle rockets thrilled them. She’d had the kids collecting two-liter plastic pop bottles since day one. Last week, they’d made the launch pads, which consisted of small sections of two-by-four with a cork nailed to the center of each one.
In the barnlike shed that Daphne had provided for their summer classroom, Van gave a short recap lecture on the chemical interaction between vinegar and bicarbonate of soda.
“Bakers often mix the two in their recipes,” she said. “Vinegar and soda are also useful in homemade cleaning products. In both cases, you have other, neutral substances to contain the interaction. Substances like...?”
The kids shouted out answers. “Flour!”
“Soap!”
“Correct. Last week we mixed vinegar and baking soda and poured the result into a wide open container surrounded by a small mountain of sand. We watched how carbon dioxide rose to the top of the mixture, creating bubbles and foam that looked like...”
“A volcano!”
“That’s right! Today, we make our bottle rockets. With a bottle rocket, you’re confining the chemical reaction in the restricted space of the bottle with only a small opening for possible escape, causing the chemical interaction to do what?”
Several of the boys made exploding sounds, while Emma Bledsoe called out, “Vinegar and baking soda make carbonic acid, which decomposes into carbon dioxide gas. The tight space and small opening are what blows the bottle off the cork.” Not only a fighter for equal rights in the Miss Bronco beauty pageant, Emma was also a budding scientist.
“Exactly,” said Van. “And that makes...”
