A Silver Lining

by T. R. McClure

  Rubbing a hand across his eyes, Mitch turned back to Grace and cleared his throat. “We have a new finance administrator at the college and I, well…Matt and I, thought a little welcome gift might be in order.” He glanced away from Grace’s speculative gaze.

  “I should meet her. Maybe she can provide me with some freelance bookkeeping.” Grace stared into space and tapped her chin with one long finger.

  Mitch breathed a sigh of relief. Grace’s interest was purely pecuniary. For a minute, he thought she suspected an ulterior motive for the gift.

  “So do you like the fern, Doctor Collins?” Donica set the spray bottle under the counter, glanced at the fern, and then back at Mitch, one dark eyebrow raised. “We’ll throw in a fifteen percent discount since you’re a first-time customer. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be back.”

  Thirty minutes later, the fern hanging from one finger, Mitch waited outside of what used to be Judd’s office as the janitor unlocked the door. The three women were good at their chosen professions, although he would have bought the fern even without Donica’s discount offer. When he entered the room, he could tell immediately the cleaning crew had done their magic. He doubted the room had been touched in the ten years Judd occupied the space. He sniffed. The room even smelled better…fresher. All trace of their contraband cigars had vanished. Crossing the room, he set the fern on the floor next to the desk.

  Two ivy plants hung on either side of the big window. He lifted them off their respective hooks and set them behind the desk. The one was definitely a goner. No amount of tender loving care from Matt’s ag students would bring it back. But the other plant still had three struggling green leaves. He lifted the heavy fern and hooked the top to the loop in the ceiling and stood back. The late afternoon sun filtered through the airy fern, just as he’d pictured, and made patterns on the shining surface of the big mahogany desk. He picked up the two ivies and as he turned to leave the door opened.

  “What are you doing in here?” Linda Lafferty stood open-mouthed in the doorway, a key in one hand and the other clutching the door knob. “And how did you get in? I locked up when I left.”

  Mitch had not thought twice about asking the janitor to unlock Linda’s office. They had done it all the time in the past. At the intense look in Linda’s blue eyes, he was struck maybe letting himself into her office wasn’t such a good idea anymore. More damage control. At this rate, all he did with Linda Lafferty was damage control. He set down the two pots and wiped his hands on his shirt. “I—I mean, Matt and I and, uh, the fourth floor—wanted to give you a little welcome gift.” With a jerk of his chin, he gestured toward the fern. “Looks nice, doesn’t it?”

  Linda’s gaze lighted on the huge fern now hanging in front of the big, bay window. The feathery fronds were thick and a healthy, light green.

  Mitch thought he detected a softening in her expression as the corners of her lips tilted up.

  Her gaze swiveled from the fern to Mitch. “The fern is lovely, Mitch. Thank you.” She came farther into the room and set her large handbag on the desk. “I see the cleaning crew has been in.” She rotated, taking in the clean bookshelves and the polished wood floor. “What a difference.”

  Mitch chuckled. “I’d say all traces of Judd Weakland are wiped out—” he picked a rock up off the windowsill, “—except for this.”

  Linda laughed as she came around the desk and took the stone from Mitch’s hand. “I’ll hang on to this for old time’s sake. Matt didn’t know where it came from. Do you?”

  As her fingers touched his, Mitch gazed into the blue eyes and realized they weren’t ice-blue at all, but rather a summer day blue. Her hands were soft and he resisted the urge to wrap his fingers around hers as she lifted the rock from his hand. “Judd’s wife gave it to him. It’s a worry stone. Feel how smooth the surface is?”

  Wrapping her fingers around the small, light-colored object, Linda nodded. “Why did Judd need a worry stone?”

  Mitch shrugged. “Sometimes things got a little heated with the higher-ups.”

  With a soft hm-m, Linda set the stone in the middle of her desk pad. “Maybe I’ll hang on to it for a while.”

  His gaze on her pensive face, Mitch blurted, “Would you like to have dinner Friday evening, with me?”

  Linda’s head jerked up, her eyes wide. She studied him a moment, and then shook her head. “I’m driving up to San Jose.” She bit her lower lip. “For a conference.”

  Disappointment flooded him as Mitch backed toward the door. “I figured since you’re new in town, maybe you would…” He noticed Judd’s two plants next to the desk. He strode across the room and picked them up. “I’ll get rid of these for you. Matt will probably bring this guy to life again.” He backed out the door, holding the two pots away from his body. “Have a safe trip.”

  Mitch reached the stairway, pulled open the door, and sat on the top step. He did a mental head shake. What the heck was he thinking, asking Linda Lafferty out for dinner? Dating a woman her age meant getting serious and Mitch Collins didn’t get serious…at least with respect to women. Fishing. He could get serious about fishing, or baseball, but women? He contemplated the two pots setting on the step below him. Contrary to popular belief, his love life was like the ivy—the dead one. No hope of revival.

  ****

  Although Friday was the designated holiday for the Fourth of July holiday, Linda stopped into the office to pick up some files for her presentation. She sat in the plush black leather chair behind her desk and stared at the beautiful fern hanging in the window. She doubted the fern was from the entire fourth floor. She had never finished the fourth floor tour and had yet to meet most of the staff one floor down. Apparently, there was more to Leroy Mitchell Collins than the ponytail and faded denim clothes implied. She tilted her bag over on the desk and reached in, searching for her phone.

  She was scrolling through the phone for Austin’s number when a gentle knock sounded on the door.

  Bartholomew McDowell stuck his head in the office. “What are you doing here on a holiday?”

  Linda tossed the phone back in her purse and smiled. “Picking up some files.”

  Bart strolled into the office. He paused and, propping his hands at his waist, shoved back his jacket, displaying his suit vest. His snow white hair was perfectly coiffed. “What a difference you’ve made in a few short days.” He stroked the leather backs of the chairs sitting in front of her desk and raised one eyebrow. “Did we buy you new furniture?”

  Linda laughed. “Believe it or not, all of this was under about ten years worth of dust.” Unable to conceal her delighted smile, she surveyed the room. “Amazing what a little soap and water will do.”

  Bart sat in the chair and shot his cuffs, brushing a speck of lint off his sleeve. “Between you and me, Linda, I was always afraid to come into Judd’s office.” He chuckled. “I’d only been here six months myself when he decided to retire. I never really got to know the man. Maybe he had a bad relationship with the previous president and didn’t want to deal with someone new.”

  Linda leaned both elbows on the leather desk pad. “Could have been.”

  Bart crossed his legs and straightened the crease in his black suit pants. “Have you settled in enough to give our budget a hard look?”

  Linda nodded toward the computer to her left. “I reviewed the college budget and the available funds. Things are a bit tight considering the projects scheduled.”

  “Certainly are. I can’t figure out what the previous administrator was thinking. Next year will be even worse with the addition scheduled for construction. We’ve inherited a fine mess.” Bart tented his fingers under his chin. “You’ve met Professor Collins.”

  “I ended up having lunch with him on Monday.” Judd’s light-colored stone caught her eye and she picked it up, rubbing her fingers across the smooth surface.

  “I’m considering cutting a class or two in his area, maybe a few of his teaching assistants. I’m not sure we can justify a disci
pline such as his. Our college courses tend more toward business and agriculture.”

  Linda leaned back in her chair. Maybe Judd left the worry stone on purpose. A fern frond, waving in the breeze from the air conditioning, caught her eye. Oh boy. Not even here a week and already I’m on the fast track for making enemies. “As you said, we’re good for the current fiscal year. Once I am more settled, I should be able to offer you some areas where we can trim the budget.”

  Bart stroked his chin as he studied the office. “Okay, Linda, but I can’t wait until the last minute. The Board will want to see a cost analysis. Bidding on the new project starts in January.” He pulled a card out of his pocket. “By the way, here’s your parking pass for the staff parking lot. My assistant asked me to give it to you.”

  “Thank you, and I’ll review the budget next week.” Linda stood when Bart did.

  He paused at the door. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

  “Would you believe I have a conference in San Jose to attend? I agreed months ago.”

  Bart nodded. “San Jose has nice fireworks.”

  “I’ll probably return to Almendra as soon as possible. I haven’t spent much time with my son since he started classes. I just moved to town last week.” She shook her head. Saying the words out loud reminded her how much had happened in the short time.

  Bart waved a hand. “Welcome aboard, Linda. I’m sure you and your son will be happy here.”

  Linda sank into her chair and swiveled to stare out the window. A few students wandered through the colorful gardens. Most were probably still in class or napping in their dorm rooms in preparation for a big Friday night. She pictured her son. At eighteen years of age, he was the spitting image of his handsome father—jet-black hair, deep-set dark eyes, and a smile sure to melt the heart of many a coed. She hoped they would be happy here.

  Although only two weeks into his first semester at Almond Valley College, her son Austin moved into the condo immediately after high school graduation. He wanted to get acclimated, he said. She supposed there would be some adjustment with the two of them living under one roof. Reaching into her purse, she retrieved her phone and punched in his number.

  She wasn’t surprised when the call went to voice mail. “Austin, just reminding you I’m in San Jose for the weekend and will be back Sunday. Call and let me know what your plans are for the weekend. I’ll check my phone between workshops.” She clicked off and leaned back in the comfortable chair. Since the divorce fifteen years earlier, she and Austin had managed fine, just the two of them. Although Cliff stayed in touch, his activities were rarely the type to include a young boy. But the beginning of his senior year in high school, she felt Austin pulling away.

  She would have to learn to give him his independence. With a quick glance, she checked the time on the phone. If she wanted to make the Friday night opening dinner, she better get on the road. Her bags, packed early this morning, were already in the car. She shut down her computer and rounded the desk, grabbing her purse as she did.

  A flash of light caught her eye. Tucked into the cushion of the leather chair was a cell phone, blinking a message light.

  She picked up the device, which must have fallen out of Bart’s pocket when he handed her the parking pass. She slipped the phone into her pocket to drop off on the way out.

  Although she had seen Bart’s office during the interview, she had forgotten the expansiveness. She entered the outer office where the secretary’s desk sat empty. Inside, she heard Bart on his phone. She stuck her head in the door and held up his cell phone.

  Still talking on the phone, he raised his eyebrows as he patted his pockets. He pointed to his desk, then picked up a pen and made a note.

  Linda set the small phone on the desk pad and started to leave when, through an open door behind Bart’s desk, she caught a glimpse of a large orchid. Eyes raised, she glanced at him and he nodded and waved her through. She entered the room, a glass-enclosed area identical to the lobby five floors down.

  On the far side of the conference table, an older woman, her gray hair pulled back with a clip, watered a lavender and white, multi-petaled orchid. “Hello, there. You must be Judd’s replacement.” Still misting with one hand, she stuck the other in Linda’s direction. “I’m Violet Rose. Heck of a name, isn’t it? Don’t know what my parents were thinking. You like orchids?” After a hearty handshake, the woman moved on to the next plant and continued talking, not waiting for Linda’s reply. “Most people do. They’re pretty things. Sometimes a little finicky, but if you treat them right, what a reward. Kind of like people, you know what I mean?”

  Linda was surprised the woman finally stopped to take a breath. “I like flowers, but I don’t know much about orchids.”

  “Most people don’t. I keep telling Professor Berk they should get some of the kids up here but nobody listens. This for example—” she cupped her palm around a chartreuse, tubular bloom, “—is a vanilla orchid, very labor intensive.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose. “But the scent is so worth the effort.” She opened her eyes and proceeded to a grouping of three lavender and white orchids by the window. “Often anything worth having requires added effort, wouldn’t you say?”

  Linda opened her mouth to reply but was stopped by Violet’s continuing lecture.

  “I’m just the caretaker. Don’t know what they’ll do when I retire.” She grinned. “Not my problem is it, honey?”

  “Well—”

  “I read recently some of the orchid habitat in Madagascar is being destroyed. Doctor Berk should teach a class on habitat. Did you know orchids grow on every continent?”

  Linda glanced at her watch. “No, I didn’t.”

  Violet nodded. “Even Antarctica. But you’re busy. You go on, honey.”

  With a smile at the friendly, talkative plant caretaker, Linda backed out of the room, chuckling. “Nice meeting you, Violet.” As much as she liked to talk, the woman should have been a professor!

  Violet continued misting and waved. “You too, honey.”

  Bart was still on the phone when Linda tip-toed through his office. She mouthed goodbye and continued down the hall, wondering if she should stop in her office and pick up the worry stone. Bartholomew McDowell wanted a new conference room, yet right next to his office was a cavernous space filled with orchids. Why spend money they didn’t have on new construction? Did he want a building with his name emblazoned across the top as a legacy? Or was he just stuck with a prior administration’s poor planning? She flew past her office and took the stairs.

  Thirty minutes later, she was flying down the freeway toward San Jose in her convertible, thoughts whipping through her mind like the hair around her face. She always said the only advantage to having fine, straight hair was that it didn’t tangle in the wind. Too bad, the budget was a tangled mess.

  ****

  Twenty-four hours later, the convertible was flying the opposite direction on the freeway, Linda’s hair still blowing tangle free in the wind. She saw no point spending another night in San Jose. Her presentation had gone well and she received two requests for speaking engagements at future conferences. She glimpsed the speedometer and eased her foot off the accelerator. No sense tempting a speeding ticket.

  But where was Austin? He had never responded to her message. She pulled into the short driveway at the condo and studied the end unit of the five-unit building. The white stucco building with the red tile roof appeared no different than when she had left the day before. The small stoop was bare—she really should buy a plant or a chair to give the place a homey feel—and the tiny yard had recently been mowed by maintenance. No dropped sneakers, no abandoned gym bag. She pushed the button to raise the single garage door next to the front stoop. Both the stall and the driveway were empty. Austin’s car was nowhere to be seen. To relieve the sudden tightness in the muscle stretching from her neck to her shoulder, she rubbed her fingers against the side of her neck. At the same time, she knew no amount
of massage or over-the-counter pain relief would relax her tense shoulders. Only the sight of her son’s handsome, smiling face would give her any relief.

  Leaving the suitcase at the foot of the stairs, she went into the kitchen to look for signs Austin had been in the condo. The granite countertops were as clean as when she had left Friday afternoon. The six-pack of soda in the fridge, sure to have been hit if Austin had even breezed through the house, was still a six-pack. She sniffed the air. No lingering smell of pizza. She fought back a flicker of unease and reminded herself Austin had been living on his own all summer.

  Still…

  She booted up the computer in the alcove off the kitchen. If she could check his schedule and find out his last class, maybe she could call one of his friends. Fifteen minutes later, after looking up passwords and searching for phone numbers, she clicked off the computer, seething. Why wasn’t she surprised?

  ****

  Mitch sat at his desk, twirling an unlit cigar, and studied the essay paper on the desk. He had an hour to kill before meeting Doug Marino at The Wild Pony for a beer. He figured he may as well grade papers. For an engineering major, this student had a healthy grasp on the concept of leisure studies. Most people responded exactly as Linda Lafferty had, with disbelief such a subject even existed. His own father had repeatedly tried to talk him out of the major in favor of business. Mitch had never regretted his decision. He had not wanted the life his father had, tied to the job, with no interests outside work.

  He inked a red A on the paper and tossed it on a pile in his Out basket and reached for the next one when his door suddenly flew open.

  Linda Lafferty stood there, but it wasn’t the summer-sky-blue-eyed Linda Lafferty, it was the ice-blue-eyed Linda Lafferty. He opened his mouth to say hello but the greeting died on his lips at the first words out of her mouth.

  “Where’s my son?”

  Chapter Four

  You could have knocked him over with a feather. The pleasure at seeing her was so quickly replaced by shock at her accusation his head was spinning. First of all, he didn’t know she had a son. And second of all, why was she asking him?