The Tick-Tock Between You and Me

by Kristy Tate

  Cole laughed at their intensity.

  “You have to have the bread,” Nora told him.

  “It’s that good,” Darby assured him.

  “Huh, it sounds like I should have hired you to teach home ec,” Cole said.

  “Do they even have that at schools anymore?” Nora asked.

  “We don’t here,” Cole said, “although I’m not sure why not.”

  “Since we have some time, why don’t we go for a walk?” Darby suggested. “I’d love to see the campus.”

  “Good idea!” Nora said in a false, bright tone. “But this bread will take me a while. You two should go ahead.” The way she kneaded the bread told Darby she minded being left behind.

  Cole stepped outside while Darby went to the bedroom to retrieve a sweater. She found Nora alone in the kitchen, whacking carrots and celery into tiny sticks.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind being left here alone?” Darby asked.

  A grimace flitted over Nora’s expression. “I do sort of,” she whispered.

  “I knew it!” She tried to take away Nora’s knife, but Nora flinched away.

  “I’m still staying here.”

  “But why?”

  “It’s like everyone I ever loved has lied to me,” Nora said, whacking the celery.

  “So now it’s your turn?”

  “You don’t understand,” Nora said, her voice hard.

  “I’m trying to,” Darby said.

  “I know,” Nora said in a small voice. She put down the knife and hugged herself. “Just go. Have fun. Flirt with the handsome principal. Let me stay here and try to figure out my funk.”

  In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,

  Many hours he spent as a boy.

  And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know

  And to share both his grief and his joy

  CHAPTER 5

  “Your mom must be an amazing person to have started this school,” Darby said as she and Cole strolled across the quad’s enormous lawn. Intersecting sidewalks linked the white wood-framed buildings like a chain. The windows were now dark, and an almost eerie but hopeful and expectant atmosphere clung to the campus as if it couldn’t wait for the students to return.

  “It’s a cool story.” Pride rang in Cole’s voice. “Want to hear it?”

  Darby nodded.

  “First off, she didn’t start it, not really. It was founded by Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson. I grew up calling them the Fergies. They had been missionaries in Santiago, Chile—that’s where they met my mom.”

  “Irena is Chilean?”

  “She doesn’t look it, does she? Her father’s family, like many Germans, migrated from Munich to Chile during the Second World War. Anyway, the Fergusons taught English as a second language at the school where my mom was teaching. They became friends and so when the Fergusons returned to California, they started this school. Mrs. Ferguson’s family owned the land. At first, it was just a handful of ranch kids who didn’t want to make the six-mile drive to the closest school, but it grew as Oak Hollow became a popular retreat for the Hollywood set. After the Ferguson’s died, they left the school and all the property to my mom. We sold a hundred acres and used the capital to create what you now see.”

  “It’s amazing,” Darby said. “So, are your parents divorced?”

  “No, my father died.” Cole stuck his hands in his pockets. The tone of his voice told Darby not to intrude any further.

  Darby tucked her hand around Cole’s arm. “So how many students do you have?”

  “Our enrollment cap is five hundred. Not all of them live here, of course, but most do.”

  Darby glanced around. “Live here? So, where is everyone?”

  “The school closes for maintenance every year for the last two weeks of August. Even the boarders are sent off campus so we can take care of renovations without worrying about them falling into the constructions sites or electrocuting themselves on loose wires.” He chuckled. “They’ll be back in droves starting tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? I thought school didn’t start until next Tuesday.”

  “That’s right, but we let them have a few days to settle in.”

  “I’d love to see the horses.” Darby’s thoughts drifted to the nearby horse ranch she’d be visiting the next day.

  Cole obligingly walked her toward the stables. “These are actually the oldest buildings on campus,” he told her. “Once this all belonged to Don Carlos, a horse rancher and Mrs. Ferguson’s grandfather. That’s where my mom lives.” He nodded at a tall white wooden farmhouse surrounded by a white picket fence. Two rockers sat on the front porch. Red geraniums spilled out of the flower boxes sitting below each window.

  “And you?”

  Cole nodded at a one-story building slightly behind the stables. “I took over what was once the barn. It needs renovation. I work on it when I can.”

  “Did you always want to be a principal?”

  He nodded. “I like kids. I also teach Spanish. I’d probably rather be teaching fulltime, but someone needs to run the school.”

  “So, you never dreamed of leaving all this and joining the real world?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  Darby was silent for a moment, doing some mental calculations, and casting about for a way to discredit Crystal’s ridiculous suggestion. Cole was perfect for Nora in the most non-brotherly sort of way. But as long as Nora saw him as a brother, that romantic relationship would be doomed. “Do you think your mom wanted a girls’ school to compensate for not having a daughter?”

  Cole snorted a laugh. “She’s never mentioned anything like that to me.”

  “Well, she wouldn’t, would she?”

  “It was actually the Ferguson’s who converted Canterbury into a girls’ school. Mrs. Fergie complained that the boys were too messy, and they broke too many bones. So, sometime in the eighties, Canterbury became a school for girls.”

  “The eighties, huh? Before your time?”

  “I was born in eighty-eight.”

  “Me, too.” Darby tightened her grip on his arm as they approached the stables.

  Cole cleared his throat. “So, how long have you known Nora?”

  “We met in elementary school, and she helped me with homework all through junior high. Sadly, by the time we got to high school, she was in all the advanced classes so I had to get by on my own.”

  Cole grinned. “And did you?”

  Darby returned his smile. “I do okay. I can afford to live in a beach town, and that says a lot.” She didn’t think he needed to know she lived with her parents. She loved Shell Beach with its waving palm trees and thick smell of the sea, but she could see why Cole would love it here, too. The air was sharper, the sun brighter, and the rolling hills were dotted with massive oaks. She imagined in the spring the dull brown grass would turn green from the rain and wildflowers would grow. She promised herself she’d come to visit Nora after the winter rains.

  “How do you think she’ll fit in here?” A worry wrinkle formed between Cole’s eyebrows.

  She didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. “She’s brilliant…but naive?” Darby paused at the split rail fence surrounding the corral and gazed at the horses grazing in the field. “Wow. They’re gorgeous…and huge!”

  An Arabian stallion shook his mane and nickered at them. Cole pointed at a dappled bay. “That’s my mom’s horse, Specter.” He nodded at the cluster of mustangs enjoying the shade beneath a giant oak. “Those are a few of the ponies the students ride.”

  “And that one?” Darby pointed at the stallion.

  “He’s mine. Mr. Fergie bought him for me when I got my doctorate.”

  “Doctorate? In what?”

  “I wrote my dissertation on education in an evolving society.”

  Darby wrapped her arms around herself. “You and Nora are a matched set,” she said in a small voice.

  “How do you figure? She went to business school.”

  “She’s s
till a brainiac. She went into business because her parents wanted her to and her then-husband thought it was a good idea.”

  But Darby hushed when a man emerged from the stables. Then she remembered where she’d heard the surname George before. He couldn’t be, could he? But Bernard George, the rancher, was in his eighties. Could Chad George—the man from the airport who had ruined her blouse—be his son, or maybe his grandson? Right now, he looked like someone had destroyed his shirt, or at least tossed it aside. He wore low slung jeans, a pair of cowboy boots and not much else. Recognition and surprise flashed in his eyes. His expression lightened as he grinned and strode toward her.

  “And who is that?” Darby asked, hoping that Cole wouldn’t guess that she found Chad much more interesting than any of the horses.

  Cole cleared his throat. “Chad, come and meet Darby.” He waved him over and introduced them to each other.

  “You’re not the new English teacher, are you?” Chad asked. “I thought you said you were an accountant.”

  “Minus one for you,” Darby said, matching his grin.

  “She’s the English teacher’s friend,” Cole told him. His gaze flitted between them. “Do you two know each other?”

  “We bumped into each other at the airport,” Chad said.

  “That day, I was the one who lost my shirt,” Darby said.

  Chad blushed. “I don’t usually dress like this.”

  “Please don’t apologize,” Darby said. “I just think it’s funny that our tables turned.”

  “Capra barfed on me.” Chad’s gaze sought out Cole’s. “I threw the shirt away.”

  Cole laughed.

  “That goat!” Chad spat out the word. “I swear he would eat a car if we left him alone with one.”

  “You have goats?” Darby asked.

  “We have a goat,” Cole corrected. “One goat. He’s more than enough.”

  “I’d like to meet him,” Darby said.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Cole said.

  Darby stared at Chad’s chest a moment too long. “I think I would.”

  “Come on, then,” Chad said, holding out his hand. “Let me do the honors and make the introductions.”

  “I think I’ll go back to the cottage and check on the soup,” Cole said.

  #

  Darby let Chad pull her into the shady stables. The fading sun cut through the wooden slats and dust particles danced in the shafts of light. The smell of horses mingled with leather rose from the sawdust-strewn floor. Outside, the wind picked up and whistled through the barn.

  “What are you doing here?” Chad asked at the same time that Darby blurted, “Are you related to Bernard George?”

  “Sorry, you first,” Chad said.

  “No, you…”

  Then they both paused. Darby hesitated, wondering who should speak first.

  After a beat of silence, she blurted out, “I’m here with Nora, my friend who’s the new English teacher.”

  “Bernard George senior is my grandfather. Bernie George junior is my dad,” Chad said.

  Darby smiled. “Then I suppose I have you to thank for the recommendation.”

  Chad looked baffled. “Sorry, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Then a look of understanding dawned in his eyes. “Ah.”

  “Ah?” Darby asked.

  “You’re my sister’s accountant,” Chad said, his grin deepening.

  “Cecelia?”

  Chad nodded.

  “Will that be a problem?” Darby asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Chad said slowly. “How does the Brit-boy feel about you taking a job so far out of L.A.?”

  “He’s irrelevant.” Darby bristled.

  “Huh. I thought—”

  “Okay, so did I, all right? I made a mistake.”

  “I’m sorry,” his lips said, but his grin said otherwise.

  “Your ranch is nearby?”

  Chad nodded. “You probably know that already.”

  “Yes.”

  He drew a circle in the sawdust with the toe of his boot and studied the ground. “You probably know more about the state of our ranch’s finances than I do.”

  “How’s that?” Darby cocked her head to get a better read on his expression.

  “My grandfather likes to keep a hold of the reins.” He looked away from her, over his shoulder, as if he could see the ranch through the stable’s windows.

  “Then I’m flattered he trusted me.”

  He turned back to meet her gaze. “He trusted his accountant…and I supposed he must also trust Cecelia since he listened to her recommendation.” He sounded hurt.

  “Have you given him a reason not to trust you?”

  “No, but I do worry about the ranch. Maybe that’s reason enough.” He paused and a shadow crossed his face. “You’ll probably meet my dad and stepmother tomorrow. They’re always good for a show.”

  Darby noted the bitterness in his voice. “How do they feel about the ranch?”

  Chad snorted an unpleasant sound. “I think my stepmother wants to make it into a spa while my dad just wants to sell it to developers.”

  “I take it your grandfather feels differently?”

  “Yeah, you could say that. Grandpa Bern refuses to change the status quo. The problem is—that’s not possible. According to my dad, the ranch is bleeding money and we can’t continue the way we are.”

  Darby nodded.

  “This is why he called you,” Chad said. “I think he thinks you’re going to wave your wand and conjure up the funds we need to save the ranch.”

  Darby glanced out the window at the rolling hills wondering where the Canterbury property ended the Rancho de Rio began. It was impossible to tell. It all looked like a giant wilderness area, so completely foreign from the crowded San Fernando Valley. “It’s a large piece of property. Could you subdivide?”

  “Grandpa refuses. He said that the land belonged to his father and his grandfather. He wants to be buried on the land—just like they were.”

  “Goodness. Is that even legal?”

  Chad shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Grandpa could live for another twenty years, and I hope he does. But the sad thing is, according to my dad, the ranch, as it is, can’t last that long. But you’ll have more than enough of this tomorrow. Come on, let me introduce you to Capra, our naughty goat.”

  “Capra, like Frank Capra the director?”

  “Well, maybe. I’m not sure because I wasn’t here when Irena named him. But knowing her, it’s more likely an abbreviation of Capra aegagrus hircus, the scientific name for domestic goats.” He led her through a wide gate that opened up to a small enclosed pasture.

  Capra, a silky white goat with a black handkerchief tied around his neck, balanced on the back of a cow.

  “Capra get off from Missy!” Chad scolded.

  To Darby’s surprise, the goat jumped off and ambled toward Chad.

  “He obeyed you!” Darby exclaimed.

  “Oh yeah, goats are super intelligent. Like dogs, they know their names and will come when called… If they want to.”

  Capra sauntered up to Darby and stuck out his nose, begging to be petted. Darby complied. Capra thanked her with a loud burp. Started, Darby jumped away and stuck her hand in her coat pocket.

  Chad laughed. “Don’t take it personally. Goats are burpers. They’re like cows and have four stomachs.”

  Darby skated him a glance before quickly rotating her focus back to Capra. She didn’t trust the goat enough to take her eyes off him for long. “You seem to know a lot about goats.”

  Chad rubbed the fur between Capra’s ears and Capra gazed at him adoringly. “At one time, I thought I wanted to be a veterinarian.”

  “What happened?”

  “Life, I guess. I went to USC on a football scholarship. Got injured my senior year. Things got hard. I’m lucky I was able to pull things together and graduate.”

  Darby guessed he was blacking out a lot of unpleasantness.

  Cap
ra rubbed his side against Chad before wandering off to nibble at the long grass poking through the split-rail fence at the other end of the corral.

  “It’s tough to get into veterinary school,” Chad continued. “Besides, I live with my grandfather on his ranch. He’s eighty but thinks he’s young and spry.”

  “Sounds like my Grandma Betty.”

  “Maybe we need to introduce them.”

  “Mmm, not so sure about that. My grandmother needs to come with a warning label.”

  Something grabbed ahold of Darby’s ponytail and yanked her head back. “Ow,” she cried.

  “Capra! No!” Chad yelled.

  Immediately, the goat released Darby’s ponytail and cantered across the pasture.

  “Sorry. He likes to eat hair.”

  Darby grabbed her ponytail and inspected the wet and slobbery ends. “I think I need a shampoo.”

  Chad nodded. “Sadly, that’s how most people feel after being around Capra.”

  Darby’s stomach let out a loud angry growl. She put her hand on her belly.

  “It sounds like Capra isn’t the only one who’s hungry.” Chad touched her elbow. “Is your friend living in one of the cottages?”

  Darby nodded.

  “Come on, I’ll show you how to get back.”

  He asked about her job as an accountant and she told him she had a love-hate relationship with it. She wanted to ask him about veterinarian school but didn’t want to press. Still, she felt her unanswered questions hanging between during the short walk across the campus to the cottages.

  #

  “Where were you?” Nora demanded when Darby finally showed up.

  Darby’s cheeks flamed. She told herself it was because of the sudden change in the temperature—after all, the kitchen was at least twenty degrees than the crisp nearly autumn air—and nothing to do with Nora’s question…or Chad. “Didn’t you have a nice dinner with Cole?”

  “No! It was tragic!” Nora plunged her hands back into the soapy water in the sink, found her sponge and scrubbed the soup pot.

  “Tragic?” Darby went to the fridge in search of soup.

  “Well, maybe that’s too harsh a word, but still it was awkward.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “The neighbor showed up. He’s the science teacher and all he could talk about was spiders and erectile dysfunction.”