Page 61 of Enzo

But … the dots now crash and collide together. She talked to Luca Valizar at the ball. She said her headmistress knew him.

Molly’s attention falls on me, a few seconds later. Her mouth falls open and whatever she was about to say disappears. Her eyes widen, and then stay like that.

I probably have that same expression, too. But my heart starts to race and my pulse pounds. My hands feel suddenly clammy.

“Take a seat, please, Molly.” Miss Turlington is apparently oblivious to the fact that neither of us is moving. If Penelope has noticed anything, she doesn’t show it.

Molly’s face has turned pink. I’m sure her jaw would have hit the floor by now, but she quickly composes herself.

“Good morning.”

Her gaze flickers to Penelope before returning to me.

“Good morning,” I manage to say.

The headmistress gestures toward the empty chair.

“Molly, this is Penelope Grech. She works with Luca Valizar, and this is Enzo Knight.”

Molly’s eyes meet mine again. She nods, but doesn’t let on that she knows me.

“We've been discussing the plans for the old pavilion site at the end of the street, and Mr. Knight is going to put together some initial recommendations for Luca Valizar. I'd like you to be his point of contact here at the school.”

Molly's head snaps toward the headmistress.

“Me?”

“We discussed this a few days ago.” The headmistress peers closer at Molly. “Are you feeling okay, Molly?”

“Yes. Sorry. I am. Okay, I mean.”

“You know the children, and you know the parents, and you've certainly heard me talking about that site often enough.”

I glance at Molly out of the corner of my eye. She looks nervous. Ruffled. Flustered.

“Yes, but—”

“You've always had plenty of ideas about what we could do with it.”

Molly looks at me.

I look back at her.

Once upon a time I might have found her expression amusing.

Today, I don't.

She presses her lips together as if she’s not sure of her words, then, “I don't think Mr. Knight needs—”

“I do.” The words are out before I decide whether I mean them.

Molly goes still. If Penelope hadn’t noticed any awkwardness between us earlier, she will have now.

“If I'm going to make recommendations,” I continue, “I need someone who understands how the school operates and what the people using the facilities actually need.”

It's a perfectly reasonable answer. A professional answer. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I have a hundred questions for the woman sitting near me.

Molly’s hands twist in her lap. “Okay.”