shop.
It was easy to see which one was the reporter. A strikingly beautiful middle aged lady in a well-tailored business suit, surrounded by a sea of twenty-year-olds in tank tops and shorts.
“Ms. Peterson.” Melissa strolled in, flashing her million dollar smile.
The lady stood and extended her hand. Another million dollar smile. “Please, call me Janice.”
“Janice, this is my friend Tomàs. I’m his ride home. Is it okay if he joins us?”
“Of course. Tomàs, very nice to meet you.”
“And you, ma’am.”
She gestured for us to sit. “Can I get you two something?”
I held up my hands. “Please, allow me. You two need to chat. I shall serve as Melissa’s manservant this evening. What may I get you?”
“A mocha latte, please, Peeky.” Melissa reached into her purse. “With Splenda.”
“Let me get this.” The reporter handed me a $20 bill. “I’ll have the same, a latte. And please get yourself something – ‘Peeky’ is it? What an interesting name.”
“I’ll let Melissa explain it to you. Be right back.”
The cash register was right behind Janice, about three feet from our table. She pulled out a small notepad. “He’s charming. Boyfriend?”
“No, no. Peeky—Tomàs—is in my paleontology study group. He’s just a friend.”
“I see. I like the accent.”
“He’s from India. Tomàs Pequant. Peeky, for short.” Melissa winked at me.
“‘Pequant’ doesn’t sound Indian.”
“It’s French. His great-grandfather, I think.”
“How fascinating.” Janice smiled and leaned back, crossing her legs. “You have a lot of interesting people in your life, don’t you?”
Melissa smiled back. “I can think of a few.”
“Well, the one I’m interested in is running for mayor. Shall we talk about him?”
“Absolutely.” Melissa straightened in her chair.
“Do you help with his campaign much?”
“I try.”
Melissa had most of her political answers well-rehearsed. I’d seen her do this before: a big grin, a short, upbeat answer, and end with a statement about her dad being the best thing for Tampa. Tonight she seemed a little off. Slow to answer. Hesitant.
Her eyes returned to the reporter. “You’ve seen me at a campaign event here and there, but I’m pretty busy with school, you know?
“Paleontology.” Janice acknowledged, opening her notepad to a fresh page.
“That’s right. It keeps my schedule full.”
“I can imagine.”
“But I help out when I can. Weekends, mostly, doing miscellaneous things for the campaign.” I could see Melissa’s hand in her lap, folding and unfolding a napkin. Why was she so nervous?
Janice lifted her eyes to Melissa. “Like doing interviews for the family aspect of a campaign.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” Janice set her pen down. “Your dad and I have been friends for a long time.” There was a warmth in her voice, as if she was trying to put Melissa at ease.
“Yes, I’ve seen you at some office Christmas parties, I think.”
Janice nodded at Melissa and changed to a more inquisitive tone. “How did you decide to come to USF to study paleontology?”
I set the lattes in front of them and sat down, handing the reporter her change. Melissa absently toyed with the green plastic cover on the tall cardboard cup, slowly turning it as she spoke.
“When I was a little girl, we were on vacation at the beach making a sand castle—my mom, dad, and me. I wanted to decorate the towers by putting little seashells on top of them. My mom pointed out that one of them wasn't a shell. It was a piece of coral.” Melissa glanced up at Janice, who was listening intently. So was I.
“She was a tax attorney, you know? At Dad’s firm. But she had a lot of interests.” A faint smile appeared on her lips as she stared at the latte. “Dad always said Mom had a million interests, and she was good at every one of them.
“Anyway, she looked around and plucked a little rock from the sand and said,
It was easy to see which one was the reporter. A strikingly beautiful middle aged lady in a well-tailored business suit, surrounded by a sea of twenty-year-olds in tank tops and shorts.
“Ms. Peterson.” Melissa strolled in, flashing her million dollar smile.
The lady stood and extended her hand. Another million dollar smile. “Please, call me Janice.”
“Janice, this is my friend Tomàs. I’m his ride home. Is it okay if he joins us?”
“Of course. Tomàs, very nice to meet you.”
“And you, ma’am.”
She gestured for us to sit. “Can I get you two something?”
I held up my hands. “Please, allow me. You two need to chat. I shall serve as Melissa’s manservant this evening. What may I get you?”
“A mocha latte, please, Peeky.” Melissa reached into her purse. “With Splenda.”
“Let me get this.” The reporter handed me a $20 bill. “I’ll have the same, a latte. And please get yourself something – ‘Peeky’ is it? What an interesting name.”
“I’ll let Melissa explain it to you. Be right back.”
The cash register was right behind Janice, about three feet from our table. She pulled out a small notepad. “He’s charming. Boyfriend?”
“No, no. Peeky—Tomàs—is in my paleontology study group. He’s just a friend.”
“I see. I like the accent.”
“He’s from India. Tomàs Pequant. Peeky, for short.” Melissa winked at me.
“‘Pequant’ doesn’t sound Indian.”
“It’s French. His great-grandfather, I think.”
“How fascinating.” Janice smiled and leaned back, crossing her legs. “You have a lot of interesting people in your life, don’t you?”
Melissa smiled back. “I can think of a few.”
“Well, the one I’m interested in is running for mayor. Shall we talk about him?”
“Absolutely.” Melissa straightened in her chair.
“Do you help with his campaign much?”
“I try.”
Melissa had most of her political answers well-rehearsed. I’d seen her do this before: a big grin, a short, upbeat answer, and end with a statement about her dad being the best thing for Tampa. Tonight she seemed a little off. Slow to answer. Hesitant.
Her eyes returned to the reporter. “You’ve seen me at a campaign event here and there, but I’m pretty busy with school, you know?
“Paleontology.” Janice acknowledged, opening her notepad to a fresh page.
“That’s right. It keeps my schedule full.”
“I can imagine.”
“But I help out when I can. Weekends, mostly, doing miscellaneous things for the campaign.” I could see Melissa’s hand in her lap, folding and unfolding a napkin. Why was she so nervous?
Janice lifted her eyes to Melissa. “Like doing interviews for the family aspect of a campaign.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” Janice set her pen down. “Your dad and I have been friends for a long time.” There was a warmth in her voice, as if she was trying to put Melissa at ease.
“Yes, I’ve seen you at some office Christmas parties, I think.”
Janice nodded at Melissa and changed to a more inquisitive tone. “How did you decide to come to USF to study paleontology?”
I set the lattes in front of them and sat down, handing the reporter her change. Melissa absently toyed with the green plastic cover on the tall cardboard cup, slowly turning it as she spoke.
“When I was a little girl, we were on vacation at the beach making a sand castle—my mom, dad, and me. I wanted to decorate the towers by putting little seashells on top of them. My mom pointed out that one of them wasn't a shell. It was a piece of coral.” Melissa glanced up at Janice, who was listening intently. So was I.
“She was a tax attorney, you know? At Dad’s firm. But she had a lot of interests.” A faint smile appeared on her lips as she stared at the latte. “Dad always said Mom had a million interests, and she was good at every one of them.
“Anyway, she looked around and plucked a little rock from the sand and said,
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