I stood up and said to Angie, “You just have to be firm with them. Takes years of practice, but it can be done. Perhaps you and Simon would like to enroll in my correspondence course on child-rearing.”
“Give me a break,” said Angie. Hearing a horn sound from the street, she told Simon, “Honey, I’ll take the kids out to their ride. How soon will the steaks be ready?”
“About fifteen minutes,” he replied.
Angie went into the house, and Simon turned to me. “JB, how about getting drinks for everyone? There’s beer in the frig for the chef, and I think Laura and Angie are both having iced tea.”
“Want some help?” Laura asked.
“Absolutely,” I said, and off we went.
While I got Simon’s beer, Laura poured more iced tea into Angie’s and her glasses.
“Iced tea for you, Jeremy?” she asked.
“No, thanks,” I said, as I pulled a 16-ounce bottle of Coke out of the refrigerator. “Angie and Simon drink Pepsi. It’s one of their few flaws, actually. But they usually keep some Coke around for me.”
Then I thought of something.
“What about you, Laura? Do you drink Coke, or have you gone over to the dark side?”
She laughed and said, “Coca-Cola, of course. The Flemings have a long and proud tradition as Coke drinkers. I have an uncle who used to tell me that Pepsi was commie-propaganda-pure-and-simple.”
After a pause, she said, “So, Jeremy, what did Angie say to get you to come tonight?”
I considered my usual flippant response, but then I said, “She told me that you were one of the nicest people she’s ever met.”
Laura’s face colored slightly, and she said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”
“I know you weren’t. Okay, your turn. How’d she get you here, other than that paste thing with the five-year-olds, that is.”
“She told you about that, huh? Well, Angie said that she’d known you forever, that you weren’t a jerk, and that you were almost as cute as Simon.”
“Almost?” I asked. “Hey, that election’s not over yet.”
“Oh, really?” she said, grinning.
“Definitely. I’m counting on a lot of support from the outlying districts.”
She smiled and held her glass up and said, “Here’s to nice people.”
“Nice people,” I said, as I touched my bottle of Coke to her glass.
Angie walked in then, and the three of us joined Simon on the patio. We all sat around the big umbrellaed table, eating steaks and salads and baked potatoes. Laura and I were next to each other, and it took quite an effort on my part to keep from turning and staring at her.
“Angie told me you used to teach,” she said.
I nodded and replied, “Nine years. High school English.”
“Did you like it?”
“Some days. Some days not.”
“He won’t tell you this, of course,” said Angie, “but Jeremy was a great teacher. His students loved him.”
Laura turned back to me and said, “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you quit?” She seemed to really want to know, as opposed to asking just to be making conversation.
“I reached the point where the daily frustrations, the ones I’m sure you know all about, began to outweigh the good times I had with my classes. Staying for my tenth year would have meant reaching the top of the salary scale, with that big jump in pay. I didn’t want to be in a position where I might stay on the job because I couldn’t afford not to.”
“Plus,” said Simon, “as good a teacher as JB was, he’s an even better private investigator.”
“And how’d that happen?” Laura asked. “I mean, how did you become a private detective?”
“My Uncle Leo had his own agency, and I used to work part time for him on summer vacations, mostly gathering background information, stuff like that. Eventually, though, I got my license so I could be of more assistance, and when I quit teaching, he asked me to come in full time. He retired several years ago and gave me the agency.” I stopped and gave my head a small shake. “But enough about me. How about you, Laura? What keeps you in teaching?”
“I guess the good still outweighs the bad for me,” she said. “Most days, anyway.”
“I’ve told Angie a thousand times, I don’t think I’d have the patience to deal with the little kids.”
“It’s not easy,” Laura agreed. “Most of the children in my class this year want to do well, which helps. Actually, most of the grief I endure on a day-to-day basis comes from lousy administrators and ineffective parents.”
“Amen,” said Ang.
The rest of the evening passed just as pleasantly. I noticed that no one asked about the Pendleton case, which I was sure was Angie’s doing. I appreciated getting a break from it.
After dinner, we had coffee and dessert while watching the sun go down. When it began to get a little chilly, we moved indoors to the family room. Simon, as always, was good-natured about being left out of so much of the conversation, which always happened when the company was comprised mostly of educators. Occasionally, he’d get even with Angie by inviting several real estate types from work over and they’d all sit around and talk mortgage rates at her all night.
By a little after ten, Angie and Laura were both yawning.
“Past your bedtime, babe,” Simon said to Ang.
“Mine, too,” said Laura. Turning to me, she added, “Sleep deprivation is an occupational hazard for elementary teachers. However,” and here I got those eyes full bore, “occasionally, I manage to stay awake all the way to midnight.”
Angie and Simon said good-bye to us at the front door, and I walked Laura over to her car.
“I had a good time tonight,” I told her.
“So did I,” she said.
“I could wait a couple of days and ask Angie if you liked me and then maybe get your phone number and call and ask you out.”
“Yes, you could.”
“But the suspense might kill me.”
“Yes, it might.”
“Will you go out with me sometime?”
“Yes, I will.”
She gave me her number, and I stood
