Chapter 19 Cateline
CATELINE
Connor tears off a piece of the plain pretzel like a starved beast and plunges it into the dipping sauce. “Oh, that’s delicious,” he says around a mouthful.
I cringe. “Manners, Mr. Wolfe.”
He goes still and then sits up straighter. “My apologies.”
Swiftly moving on, I say, “The meet and greet was great. I didn’t realize there were so many fans in Concordia.”
He wears a genuine and appreciative smile. “Football is played professionally in the United States, but it’s a global passion held by many.”
“Many rowdy and rough people who enjoy watching men pummel each other.” I mean for it to come off as a joke, but it sounds like an insult.
Connor’s brow furrows and his expression drops slightly. “It’s so much more than that. What? Is it not civilized enough for you?”
“The truth is, I hardly know a thing about it. Enlighten me.” I prop an elbow on the table and rest my chin on my hand, hoping to rescue myself from the near-verbal penalty.
Connor gives me a thorough education on all things related to the sport.
Ordinarily, this would put me to sleep, but Connor’s obvious enthusiasm for the game engages me. His smooth Appalachian accent deepens as he tells me about Rylen, the running back, Chase, the quarterback, Grey, the linebacker, Declan, the wide receiver, and a bunch of the other players.
He describes training, workouts, and game day.
When we’ve eaten all the pretzels, he stops and says, “I’m talking too much, aren’t I? Boring you probably.”
“Sounds to me like you love football.”
“Didn’t realize how much until I was at risk of losing it,” he says in a low voice.
“It sounds like a real brotherhood.”
“A heck of a lot better than my brother. But you’re right.
I live and breathe football. This will sound crazy, but I even miss the challenge of supplemental training.
” He goes on to tell me about some of the crazier workouts Coach Hammer has had them do, like carrying logs on their shoulders across the beach, hefting boulders up and down the arena stairs, and once he even had them help him muck out the pond on his property—there was a real nasty water hyacinth infestation.
Thinking of how much I adored ballet until my mother made it torturous, I say, “Believe it or not, I understand.” An idea comes to mind. “I know a place we can go where you’ll get in a great workout. I’ll assure your coach it’s part of the program.”
“Nice. After all these carbs, I could stand to break a sweat.”
I gaze at the table. Only a crumb remains.
Connor dips his finger down and says, “Oops. Missed one.” He winks as he pops it in his mouth. Then leans in as though to brush a crumb from my face. “Missed another one.”
My cheeks warm and I look anywhere but at the man seated across from me, who no longer looks hungry at all. He looks strangely satisfied.
There is something so sweetly flirtatious about his gesture that I try to hide my smile as we say goodbye to the Gilberts.
“Oh, don’t forget your extra one,” Hildie says, passing me a paper baggie with the H&H Pretzels logo stamped on the front. “And be sure to tell them about the new sampler!”
Connor lifts his eyebrow and I explain that it’s for Arthur up at the school to share with Mrs. Fitzgerald.
When we step outside into the late afternoon, Connor asks, “So? Where are we going?”
“First, we’re going to quickly stop by the school to grab your workout gear and then it’s a short walk up the hill from there.”
I debate whether to bring a change of clothes to the studio. My heart stutters as though exclaiming yes! But my mind quiets the desire.
Back at Blancbourg, Arthur greets us in his usual dignified way and Connor rushes upstairs to get his gear.
I give Arthur his pretzel.
He grins gratefully. “My favorite. As always, thank you.”
“How is Mrs. Fitzgerald doing?”
“Recovering nicely. Thank you for asking.” His voice trembles a bit.
Worry creeps through me. “You sure? Why don’t you take a few more days off? We can manage. We have all these strapping football players here to help and they can lug their own bags around.”
“I couldn’t, Miss Berghier.”
“Why not? If you mean that to be polite, please remember that I’m your boss. If I say you can take time off, I mean it.”
He shakes his head. “Mrs. Harrow mentioned I might be let go soon. We need the insurance coverage for as long as possible. I’ll keep my shifts, please.”
My hand lands on his arm in a gesture of comfort. “Oh, Arthur. You’re not going to be let go. Why would Regina say such a thing?”
“She’s been in your office all hours, trying to figure out the finances and I suppose I’m the expendable one.” He gazes at his well-worn but shiny shoes.
My jaw lowers a fraction and I stifle a gasp.
“That’s absolutely not true. Arthur, you are the heart and soul of Blancbourg.
Wait,” I say, belatedly catching something else he said.
“Do you mean Connor, my pupil, has been in my office? If so, we’ve been doing harmless pranks.
” I feel tremendously silly admitting this and unprofessional, considering that I just pointed out that I’m the boss around here.
Arthur clarifies, “No, I meant Regina Harrow. She’s been using your office for years. But lately, especially after hours. I assumed you were aware.”
I tilt my head, more worried than ever that Arthur needs a break. His wife’s illness is probably taking its toll.
Connor appears with a duffel bag. “Ready to get sweaty?” he asks.
I have the urge to offer a reassuring hug to the older man. Instead, I say, “Arthur, please take another couple of days off. I promise your job and insurance will be here when you return.”
At that, Connor and I go back outside, even though I’d like to march over to Regina’s office and give her a piece of my mind—unless she’s in my office. But why would she be?
We climb a gentle hill, passing historic buildings, cottages, and Bavarian-style structures.
Connor pauses by a plaque outside of a home that’s several hundred years old. “You might laugh, but I’ll let you get away with it for not knowing what the expression guinea pig meant. But what does this mean?” He points to a word on the sign.
“That’s a Concordian word, meaning historic but also sacred, I guess you might say.
This home is believed to have hosted one of the early missionaries who originally brought the Bible to this island, so it must always be preserved.
” I go on to give him a brief history of the area and how they open up historic sites on certain weekends for locals, tourists, and people taking pilgrimages.
I also teach him a few words native to the Concordian dialect.
“That’s incredible to have such reverence.
Every time I return to North Carolina, I hardly recognize my hometown, things change so fast. I guess, considering you know Concordian, French, and English, I can’t give you too hard a time about not knowing the expression guinea pig. ” His eyes sparkle with mirth.
“Concordia only has a few words of its own and my English is just fine, thank you.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. Upon leaving France, I had a handle on the language but made it my mission to be completely fluent.
“That’s what I was saying.”
Affronted, I add, “I’m sure there are words in English that you don’t know.” I turn away from the sign and face him. “Mellifluous, for instance.”
“I wasn’t being sarcastic. But mellifluous? As in your voice is mellifluous. Try again.” He nudges me with his elbow.
I try to conceal the tremble from his touch. “Ineffable.”
He holds up his hands. “Easy there. That doesn’t sound polite.”
“Do you know the word?” I challenge.
He tilts his head, then his lips quirk. “It means ‘too great to be expressed in words.’”
Connor steps closer, gazing out at the vista. Warmth emanates from his skin. “Ineffable, much like this view.” Then, in a lower register, he says, “Like you.”
This renders me speechless, in any language.
A moment passes and then another as we stand side by side. I’ll admit, I’m a bit discombobulated. I bet he can spell that word, no problem.
“I was the spelling bee champion in grade school. Memorizing the definitions helped me remember how to spell the words.”
“Connor, despite how immature you can be at times, I cannot picture you as a child. It’s like you were born this big.”
He chuckles. “Not even close.”
When we start to climb the hill again, I feel off-kilter, out of step, and like my heart is beating at a different tempo than it ever has before.
“Oh, I meant to say earlier, thanks for not cutting my head off in all of those pictures.”
“Even if I did, I do have one to paste back on. I found it on the bottom of my computer mouse.” I dig around in my purse and pull it out, sticking it on his shirt.
He barks a laugh. “You’re Cat and you caught a mouse. Get it, a computer mouse.”
I briefly recall Arthur’s comment about Regina in my office. “That’s the corniest joke I’ve ever heard.” All the same, I can’t help but laugh.
“Also, keep the photo so you can gaze lovingly at me while you work.” Connor passes the picture back to me and our fingers brush, sending my heart a pitter-patter.
“Shall we call a truce?” he asks.
I tip my head from side to side as though considering it. “You called me Shorty.”
“You’re shorter. I’m taller. That’s all.” He fights a smile as if gauging how far to push.
“Yes, you’re tall,” I say when I stop in front of a building with another historic plaque, but I don’t agree to call a truce. Not just yet.
It’s been a long time since I’ve joked, laughed, and had an easy rapport with a guy. What changed so suddenly between us? I count my heartbeats. It seems to skip one. I press my hand against my chest.
“Everything okay?” he asks as concern filters across his brow.
“Yeah. Fine. Stress. That’s all.”
“What’s on your mind?” he asks as though genuinely interested.
“The future of Blancbourg. It looks like we might have to close soon. We’ve already cut expenses down to a minimum. Yet, Regina needs more money to balance the budget. You’d think with all the money we pour into advertising, we’d have more students and grow.” I shake my head.
Connor taps the air. “Have you ever tried getting the manor on the historic register?”
“It’s generally recognized as a historic site because it was the former royal manor before they built the castle.
” I point the toward the castle over my shoulder.
“But it’s not official. I guess no one ever bothered to follow through with it.
But even if we did, that would protect the building, but it wouldn’t make over thirty thousand dollars appear so the school can continue. ”
“No, but I’m guessing there are people here and tourists who’d love to see inside, take a tour, and hear about the history. And don’t forget about your Wolf and puppy calendars.” He winks.
My lips tip with a smile, but my twitching eye distracts me. “But it’s a school, not a tourist site.”
“True, and it could remain a school. Even with just the four of us on the premises, there are loads of unused spaces. I bet Arthur would give great tours. Just saying.”
“That is an interesting idea.” I want to linger on the way Connor makes my pulse race and how I’m slightly out of breath. It’s the stress of spending late-night hours reviewing accounts and not being able to trace where all the funding is going. “Something is off, but I’m not sure what.”
“I could help you get it sorted out.”
“You mean you’d like to do something helpful to contribute?” I tease lightly, referencing our earlier conversation and this time bumping him with my elbow.
“Hey, you can’t deny that I’m a giver.” He arches an eyebrow.
I don’t argue because he’s right and we’re finally getting along.
“I think you have a great idea,” I say at last. “Must be the pretzels. Hildie had her sampler idea, I had the idea for the workout, and you might just help me save the school. Well, the building at least. It’s a great piece of property.
I’d hate to see it fall into ruin or be demolished.
The upkeep is time-consuming and costly. ”
“We’ll go tomorrow to find out about the process.” Enthusiasm laces Connor’s voice.
We reach the top of the hill with a lane lined with two-story buildings. I lead Connor to the second floor of a broad, Bavarian-style one with dark wood timbers and cream-colored paint.
The faint sound of music sounds from behind one of the doors. I push it open and say, “Welcome to your workout.”
Ten little girls wearing pink tutus tiptoe across the wooden floor behind an older woman with a shock of white hair. She wears all black and has her hair tied in a bun like mine.
Connor goes still, a hulking giant compared to all the cute kids, and his jaw drops.