“I agree completely! People were crazy about the program. There were so many positive comments in the newsletter there was almost no room for info about the summer program.”
“Right. Mary Ann worked her butt off to get it going, so she knows it’s more than a full time job.”
“It’s definitely a full time job. Even a month-long program is hard to organize and staff.”
She made a dismissive gesture. “Make no small plans. Nine months. Sessions running from one to three weeks.”
“Wow! You’ll be the what…assistant camp director?”
“Nope.” Townsend shook her head and twitched an eyebrow. “I’ll be the director of the writing program for adults, and Mary Ann will continue to run the summer camp, her true love.”
Hennessy’s blood started to pump faster, feeling like she’d gotten a burst of adrenaline. “That’s amazing! You’ll be so good at that!”
“I think I will. I’m ready to dig my teeth into something, and this really excites me.”
“And you’d like being in South Carolina? Not that any sane person wouldn’t.”
“You don’t have to sell me. I’ve already bought the ticket.” She reached over and patted Hennessy’s cheek. “I love it. I love the weather, the pace, the way people talk, the food. It’s just right for me.”
“I haven’t heard anything this exciting in years! Where will you live? In the compound?”
Townsend blushed slightly. “Well, I hate to act like I’m too good to live in the compound…”
“Multi-million dollar home on the eighteenth green of Harbor Town?”
Flashing a playful scowl, Townsend said, “I think that would be a little ostentatious, even for me. A small house outside of a development would be ideal. I just need two bedrooms and an office.”
Hennessy nodded, her smile growing brighter. “More details, please. I need to know everything.”
“Well, one of the best things is that I’ll have the entire summer off because regular camp will continue on as usual. Even better, Mary Ann doesn’t care what kind of schedule I set for myself, so it’ll be super flexible.”
“Damn, Townsend, that’s a dream job!”
“I couldn’t have come up with a better job if I designed it myself.” She giggled. “Oh, that’s right. I did!”
“How’s she going to pay you, if that’s not too personal a question.”
“It’s a little late to start keeping secrets now. She’s going to pay me a salary that’s below the market standard—mainly because I’m young and inexperienced and she knows she can get away with it—”
Hennessy interrupted. “You’ll never hear me say a bad word about MaryAnn, but she truly knows how to make a dollar beg for mercy.”
“All true. So I put the screws to her and made her sweeten the offer by giving me seven and a half percent of the tuition for each student—off the top. And a bonus for returning students.”
“Is that going to be enough money for you?”
“If I do well it is,” Townsend said, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Fifteen cottages, each sleeping four—”
“No, eight,” Hennessy interrupted. “There’s four bedrooms in each cabin.”
“People don’t want to pay top dollar to share a room, girl! So that’s sixty beds. If I can have those beds seventy-five percent filled for all of the sessions for nine months—I’ll be great.”
“Are you sure about this? I mean, the last thing I want to do is dissuade you, but have you really thought the numbers through?”
Townsend rolled her eyes. “I have, my accountant has, and my grandfather has. He used to run a pretty big investment management firm you know.”
“I didn’t know,” Hennessy admitted. “You never talked about your grandparents much.”
Her hand rose and she made a dismissive flick with it. “I was a jerk when I was a kid. I took my grandparents for granted, never noticing what lovely, supportive people they are. My grandmother’s going with me to help me find a rental house.”
Hennessy set her elbows on the counter and leaned onto it, so stunned she had a hard time keeping up. “This is all such great news. I’m…”
“You’re amazed,” Townsend said, slapping her on the back. “But you shouldn’t be. This is going to work because of the quality of the teachers. It’s my Mom’s contacts that will pull those writers in—at least at first. So that’s what Mary Ann’s buying, more than my skills.”
Bubbling with enthusiasm, Hennessy said, “That’s utterly fantastic. And I’m so happy you’re working with your mom.”
“Now that she’s sober…” Her eyes opened wide. “Have you heard about her book?”
She hadn’t expected that question, but she told the truth. “I bought it the day it came out.” At first, she’d been indignant that Townsend had never mentioned her mother’s pill addiction. But after stewing about it for a while her opinion changed completely. Even at her worst, Townsend had respected her mother’s privacy. That was remarkably thoughtful of her. Now that thoughtful, supportive woman was right in front of her. The place she should have always been. Unable to resist, Hennessy stuck her arm out and wrapped it around her waist, pulling her close. That was a mistake. Smelling her clean, fresh, floral scent brought back old longings she’d been sure she’d extinguished. Demanding that her body stop screwing with her, she focused on the message she wanted to deliver. “If my momma had written a book like that, and dedicated it to me, I could die happy.”
Clearly fighting her emotions, Townsend pulled away and walked over to the living area, swiping a couple of tissues and stopping to blot her eyes. “Working with her on that book was the highlight of my life.” She let out a laugh that made her sound surprised. “We’re honestly friends now. We respect each other.”
“Best news I’ve had in a very long time,” Hennessy said, her voice shaking with emotion.
“It’s been a good year.” Townsend walked back over to the stove and turned off the heat. “Well, except for having my heart broken. But you can’t have everything.” She grasped her hair in a hand and tossed it over her shoulder. “I’m going to miss my mom when I move.”
“Wait…what about the woman you’re dating?”
A sly smile settled onto her face. The mystery woman was a goner if Townsend flashed that baby at her very often. “Well, since she’s a writing teacher, I’m going to tempt her to come down and teach a course. Preferably one of the master’s classes. If she spends three weeks on Hilton Head, she’ll love it.” She flicked a hand in the air and scoffed, “Who wouldn’t?”
“That’s what I always say. Once you’ve been bitten by the Palmetto bug…”
“Does Kate love it?”
Hennessy got up, walked over to the cooktop, took the tea kettle, and filled it with water. “Love? No, that’s not the word I’d use. Of course, we haven’t spent much time there. She only gets two weeks of vacation, and she naturally wants to see her family or do something fun.”
Townsend raised an eyebrow. “Visiting your family isn’t fun?”
Leaning against the counter, Hennessy crossed her arms over her chest. “No, it’s not. Gramma’s tepid on her at best, and Kate’s not much warmer.”
Taking a pointed look at her left hand, Townsend said. “I don’t see a ring on that finger. I thought you’d be long married by now.”
Hennessy extended her hand, gazing at her unadorned finger. Damn, she should have had an excuse all ready to go. Townsend wasn’t the first to ask. “We haven’t gotten around to it. I guess I haven’t been motivated.”
“Motivated?” Townsend pulled out a cutting board and placed a loaf of French bread on it. As she opened a drawer and pulled out a knife she said, “That’s a strange choice of words.”
Hennessy could only manage a shrug. “I’m not sure why we haven’t done it. Maybe we’ll consider it after Kate’s fellowship is over.”
Townsend expertly slid the knife along the loaf, then lined the slices up on a small pl
ate, and finally turned to give Hennessy what could only be described as a doubtful look. But she didn’t add a word. Instead, she poked a fork into the pot, fished out a strand of spaghetti and bit into it. “Al dente. Let’s rock.”
Hennessy stood at the sink, cleaning the kitchen while Townsend sat on the counter, swinging her feet back and forth. “Even though I’m manic about cleaning, having someone do it for me is kinda nice.”
“I’ve heard tell,” Hennessy admitted good-naturedly. “Not that I can say for myself.”
“Kate doesn’t clean?”
“Oh, she would, but I don’t give her the chance. She works at least eighty hours a week. Now that I’m finished with my degree, all I have to do is keep the house nice.”
Townsend let out a short laugh. “Knowing you, you’ll work more hours than she does once you start a job. How many offers have you had?”
“A couple.” She shrugged, embarrassed about her good fortune. “A few. But none in Boston. I’m tempted to take the offer from USC, but that presents its own set of problems.”
“LA might be great!”
Scowling, Hennessy said, “The real USC. The University of South Carolina.”
“Why’s that bad?”
“One—Kate doesn’t want to live in South Carolina. And two—it’s just an adjunct position. I’d teach two or three classes each term and make a few thousand dollars for each one. No benefits. And probably no opportunity to get onto the tenure track.”
“Couldn’t you get an adjunct job in Boston?”
Hennessy shrugged. “I suppose.” Her mood began to deflate as it did each time she forced herself to sit down and think about her professional prospects. “But I’d probably try for a fellowship rather than do that. I also don’t think I’d have much trouble getting a visiting professor slot at a local university, but…”
“Visiting from where?”
Hennessy let out a bitter laugh. “Perfect question. Visiting from nowhere. That’s academia’s way of giving you a little status. It looks better than calling you an adjunct, and it pays better. But it’s not a permanent job. Usually just a one year contract.”
“That’s better than nothing right?” Townsend’s probing look felt like it went right through her. She really wanted to know the truth, so Hennessy dropped the dishtowel and pulled out a stool.
“I could barely stand being a teaching assistant. I want to make use of my degree, but I’m not a born English professor.”
“What in the hell does that mean?”
Hennessy worked the question over in her head for a moment. She’d spent so much time thinking about it, but she wasn’t great at expressing her reservations. “I think great professors love to have the stage. The ones I remember were natural performers. I’m not like that. I do much better with a small group or a seminar.”
“Universities have lots of seminars, don’t they?”
She wasn’t making her point. Frustrated, Hennessy got up and found some gentle cleaner for the sink, then started to give it a good working over. “Seminars are for upperclassmen and grad students for the most part. I’ll be stuck teaching huge survey courses for years. Years,” she stressed, scrubbing harder when she thought of being in front of two hundred students, most of them bored to death.
“You can put up with anything for a couple of years, Hennessy. Teaching has to be easier than writing a dissertation, doesn’t it?”
She truly hated whiners, and when she heard that tone in her own voice it annoyed the heck out of her, but she didn’t have the ability to excise it. She wanted to whine. She wanted to complain about her deep-seated disappointment. “I’ll do what I have to do, but I’m not looking forward to it.” She could feel her shoulders slump, and she threw them back and tried not to look as discouraged as she felt. “I should have stopped at a Master’s and gotten a job at a place like your friend Nicole has.”
“But you didn’t.” Townsend got up and moved over to her, then grasped her shoulder and gave it a shake. “It’ll pay off in the end. Guaranteed. If nothing else, you’re getting a book published. That had to thrill your grandparents.”
“Oh, my lord. You have no idea.” She laughed, thinking of the look on her gramma’s face when she told her the news.
“Let’s have another cup of tea.” Townsend slid off the counter and filled the kettle. Hennessy watched her move, then a thought occurred to her: she hadn’t told her about the book.
They sat in the sumptuously comfortable living room, sipping their tea. It was way past odd to be in the same room, so close to one another after all these years, yet feeling like just weeks had passed. They were still finishing each other’s sentences and finding the exact same things made them laugh.
“You said earlier that Kate had another year of training,” Townsend said. “If you’re looking for jobs in Boston does that mean you’re going to settle here?”
Hennessy rolled her eyes. “I’m well past ready to leave Boston but she’s… I’m not sure what she’s thinking. I understand she wants to work at a major trauma center but—”
“You want to go home.”
In a second, her blood was boiling. “Hell, yes, I want to go home! I should have gone to USC in the first place. Having my doctorate from Harvard is nice, but being in Boston all this time has let her get really comfortable here. She’s making lots of contacts, working with people at the top of her field—”
“You’ve gotta have some sympathy for that,” Townsend said. “If you got the chance to teach at the Iowa Writer’s Workshop, you’d fall in love with Iowa.”
“I wish it were just that,” Hennessy scoffed. “Hell, I wish it were anything other than what it is.”
“Which is?” Townsend asked, that blonde eyebrow rising in question.
Torn between telling the whole truth and trying to put a good spin on it, Hennessy sighed and let the truth flow. “She doesn’t like the South. The whole damned region. I’ve offered to live anywhere within a day’s drive of Columbia and commute to be able to take this crappy adjunct job, but she finds some stupid reason she couldn’t possibly work in Atlanta, or Montgomery, or Nashville, or Raleigh, or Charlotte, or Charleston, or Savannah.” She took a breath. “I don’t even know if all of those cities have a first-class trauma unit but Atlanta does, and she won’t even consider it.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. Something about the way their unit is set up.” She let out a heavy sigh. “She finds the smallest things to nitpick when the South is involved.”
“Uhm…I hate to point out the obvious, but if she’s only got a year left you don’t have much time to reach an agreement.”
Hennessy took a sip of her tea, trying to keep her temper under control. Bitching about Kate was not just unproductive, it was unkind. “I know,” she said quietly. “She’d be happy if I took the year off and waited for her to get a job. But…”
“Sorry,” Townsend said, sticking her lower lip out. “I know it’s tough having a gorgeous, brilliant girlfriend who insists on working at some top-notch hospital so she can earn scads of money. You should have stuck with one of the good ol’ boys from Beaufort.”
Hennessy took the throw pillow at her elbow and flung it hard, catching Townsend in the chest. “Nobody likes a smart ass.” She chuckled when Townsend grabbed it and whipped it right back at her. “Careful. Your decorator might have to come over here and replace some object d’art.” She chuckled at her choice of words. “I find myself unconsciously using French expressions, and in my head, they sound just like someone from Paris said them. In reality, I sound like a Southern belle trying to get through high school French.”
“You’re never going to hear me complain about your accent. It’s adorable—in any language.”
After the third time Townsend tried to hide a yawn, Hennessy stood and said, “I’ll let you get to bed.”
“You don’t have to leave. I’m fine. It’s only…” She took her phone from her pocket and said, “How did it get to be
one a.m?”
“We had a lot of catching up to do.” Hennessy stuck her hand out and pulled Townsend to her feet. “Are we going to keep in touch? I surely do want to.”
“I do, too.” They exchanged phones and updated their contact information. Then Townsend walked her to the door and put her arms around her, holding on tight. “I had a fairly shitty day until I heard a sweet, Southern voice call my name. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you.”
Hennessy pulled away and kissed the top of her head. The urge to stay right there and fill her lungs with the scent of Townsend’s hair was so strong she dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands to snap herself out of it. “Me too. I…I would have tried to find you but—”
“I know. I wanted to see you too, but—”
“I know.” Hennessy kissed her cheek and opened the door. “We thought we were adults before—we really are now. We can be friends.”
The smile Townsend gave was so beautiful it almost brought Hennessy to her knees. “We always will be. A few year’s absence doesn’t change a thing.”
Townsend stood on the landing, watching Hennessy walk down the stairs. The light shone on the skin between her collarbones when a gap opened between her body and Kate’s dress. A flash of gold in the shape of an apple gleamed, and Townsend closed her eyes, relishing the memory of the day she and the other campers had presented the gift to Hennessy. It was all her doing, with the other students pulled in only to insure Hennessy would accept the gift. Now, all these years later, she was still wearing it.
Townsend leaned against the door, the pounding in her chest making her a little woozy.
They were still connected. She wasn’t sure how deep or how vibrant the connection was, but it was there. She was sure of it. Hennessy was back in her life.
She would never be separated from her again.
Never.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The T had stopped running, so Hennessy had to find her way home by using the MBTA app on her phone. She’d protested when Kate’s parents bought both of them smartphones for Christmas, but she used the darned thing constantly. One more chink in her armor of self-sufficiency. When you let yourself get used to the niceties…
The Right Time Page 42