is the other reason I stopped by. He said you could give me his cell number. Would you mind?” Diane kept her voice light, but her throat felt dry and tight.
“Sure.” Angela reached for her cell phone and hit a few buttons. She jotted down the number on a post-it. Diane took it and slipped it into her purse. “So, you haven’t heard from him?” Angela asked.
Diane looked at her levelly. “No. I asked him not to call.”
“But now you’ve changed your mind?”
“Yes.”
Angela looked thoughtfully out the window for a moment, then turned to Diane. “He’s an old soul, Michael. My mother used to call him her little wise man. He has a remarkable capacity for being quiet. I know that sounds trite, but it’s not. It’s almost a Zen thing. When he’s listening, or thinking, or trying to decide something, he becomes completely still. You can barely see him breathing. He kind of turns inside himself. Even as a kid, he’d be racing around like a maniac one minute, then the next he’d be just sitting.” Angela took a long breath, deciding. “Our mother died when he was eight. He never really knew her as a healthy woman. She got breast cancer when he was just three. There were surgeries and chemotherapy and trips to Mexico. Then it went to her liver. She died at home, and it was long and hard and very sad. That may have had something to do with it, his being that way, but I think he’s just always had an inner strength, or maybe an inner peace, that he could draw on. He was always special, not just smart and cute, but a rare person. We all love him very much.” She looked down at her desk. “We’re all very protective of him.” Angela carefully lined up a stack of papers. “We worry about him quite a bit.”
“Are you worried about something specific? Diane asked carefully.
“Of course we are,” Angela said patiently, looking up at Diane. “We all know why we love Michael. He’s a remarkable man. He’s a great brother. I’ve never met anybody quite like him. But someone like you, Diane, you’re so different from the women who are usually around him, we’re just wondering what the attraction could be, that’s all.”
“I see.” Diane chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Has it ever occurred to you that I’ve never met anyone quite like him either, and maybe that’s the attraction?”
Angela looked faintly surprised. “No, actually.”
Diane stood up. “Michael and I have just met. Why don’t we see what happens before we continue this discussion, okay?”
Angela nodded. “Good idea. Thank you.”
Now Diane looked surprised. “For what?”
Angela shrugged. “Well, I’m not quite so worried now.”
Diane smiled and left.
Diane spent all evening trying to decide what would be the best time to call Michael. She finally settled on 9:30, giving her a little over an hour to work before calling. She settled at her desk, proofreading her final exam questions, when the phone rang and it was Michael.
“Look, I’m sorry to call, I know you told me not to, but I just talked to Angie and she said you stopped by and got my number, so I figured you’d changed you mind and here I am. Is that okay?” He said it in a breathless rush, sounding very young.
“Yes, of course.” Diane grinned happily. “So tell me all about Gordon Prescott.”
Prescott was a maniac and a genius, he told her. There had been meetings, screenings, dailies and more meetings, with the producer, the man who would do the orchestration, the second choice to do the orchestration, the assistant director, all of the actors. It was madness. She sat, curled into the corner of the couch, Jasper on her lap. When they finally hung up, it was too late for her to do any work, but she didn’t care. She spent Friday in a panic. Michael was picking her up at six-thirty. What if Kevin was late picking up the girls? She needed to shower and get ready. She didn’t know what to wear. She felt fifteen.
“I’m a total mess,” she said miserably to Marianne Thomas. “I can’t believe I am being so pathetic.”
Marianne looked at Diane. “Yes, I agree, you are being pathetic. But at least he’s single. Remember Quinn Harris?”
“Oh, God,” Diane said quickly. “Quinn.” Quinn Harris had breezed onto the Franklin-Merriweather campus two years before, a visiting professor from London. He was England’s most sought-after theatrical director, married to a talented and flamboyant English