Until she gathered supplies and made a plan, there wasn’t anything she could do to improve her classroom now so she nodded.
“Sure. Please, call me Stella.”
Darien beamed. “Excellent, I know just the place.”
Although she felt winded after a rapid dash down three flights of stairs, Darien breathed as easy as if seated at a desk. Stella hustled to keep up with his long stride as they walked the short block to the town square. He paused at a very ordinary looking doorway, marked only by a sign that read “The Basement.” Her apartment, in the former hotel, was at the opposite end of the same block.
Darien held the door for her so she entered, blinking to adjust to the dimmer light and saw the narrow stairs that descended. She followed them and at the bottom, he again held the door so that she could walk into the small place. The single room was trendier than anything she had yet seen in Riverville with full bar and intimate booths lining all the walls. Muted lighting set a relaxing mood, with no more than backlighting at the bar with candles flickering on each table.
Darien directed her into a booth tucked almost beneath the stairs and Stella slid into the soft leather bench.
“Isn’t this a lovely place?” he asked, with a genuine smile. “I find it both quaint and yet so 21st century.”
“It’s very nice,” Stella said. She liked it, too, although the implied intimacy fired off her inner warning system. This was a place that you went on a date, not for casual coffee but maybe he chose it because it was near the school. Stella hoped so.
“It is and they serve tea, properly brewed. Do you like tea, I hope?”
“Yes, I like tea.” She did, both hot and cold but she had a funny inkling that he wasn’t talking iced tea.
“Do you have a favorite blend? They offer several varieties.”
The choices would not include basic Lipton’s tea bags, at least not to him, and although she considered teasing him about it, Stella didn’t think that she knew him quite well enough so instead, remembering well how much her British born great-granny loathed tea bags in general, she summoned up two of her favorite blends.
“I like Earl Grey and Orange Pekoe.”
He smiled again and she noticed that his eyeteeth were longer than most men’s, giving his mouth an almost dog-like appearance that she found strange yet endearing.
“Stella, you have good taste. We shall drink Earl Grey. Do you prefer lemon or milk?”
“Lemon.”
“Capital!” he said with a smile. “Milk would pollute a good Earl Grey.”
Darien sounded so British, she thought with delight, loving that in him. It made him unique among the men she had dated and she liked that, too. He might think he was more of a Yank now but his roots remained, just below the surface.
When the server, dressed in black slacks, white dress shirt, and a neat black tie, arrived Darien ordered Earl Grey. When the cups arrived, steaming, with a slice of lemon, Stella sipped hers, delighting in the full flavor. It was more refreshing on the late August day than she expected.
“Tell me about yourself,” Darien said, gazing into her face with those mesmerizing topaz eyes. “Why would a city girl from Kansas City decide to come teach in a small, rural town with a single high school?”
She had wondered that often since coming to Riverville.
“I thought I would like the change of scenery,” Stella said, “I guess I’m looking for a simpler life. What about you? Why would someone educated at Cambridge and Harvard want to teach in this small school?”
Darien stirred his cup of tea again and then put down the spoon before answering.
“I like my privacy and to live a quiet life away from prying eyes. I have lived in Riverville for six years now and although part of the small town reality is that everyone knows everyone else’s business, I like the place. The rugged hills appeal to my wilder nature and my home is very private.”
He sounded sincere. She
“Sure. Please, call me Stella.”
Darien beamed. “Excellent, I know just the place.”
Although she felt winded after a rapid dash down three flights of stairs, Darien breathed as easy as if seated at a desk. Stella hustled to keep up with his long stride as they walked the short block to the town square. He paused at a very ordinary looking doorway, marked only by a sign that read “The Basement.” Her apartment, in the former hotel, was at the opposite end of the same block.
Darien held the door for her so she entered, blinking to adjust to the dimmer light and saw the narrow stairs that descended. She followed them and at the bottom, he again held the door so that she could walk into the small place. The single room was trendier than anything she had yet seen in Riverville with full bar and intimate booths lining all the walls. Muted lighting set a relaxing mood, with no more than backlighting at the bar with candles flickering on each table.
Darien directed her into a booth tucked almost beneath the stairs and Stella slid into the soft leather bench.
“Isn’t this a lovely place?” he asked, with a genuine smile. “I find it both quaint and yet so 21st century.”
“It’s very nice,” Stella said. She liked it, too, although the implied intimacy fired off her inner warning system. This was a place that you went on a date, not for casual coffee but maybe he chose it because it was near the school. Stella hoped so.
“It is and they serve tea, properly brewed. Do you like tea, I hope?”
“Yes, I like tea.” She did, both hot and cold but she had a funny inkling that he wasn’t talking iced tea.
“Do you have a favorite blend? They offer several varieties.”
The choices would not include basic Lipton’s tea bags, at least not to him, and although she considered teasing him about it, Stella didn’t think that she knew him quite well enough so instead, remembering well how much her British born great-granny loathed tea bags in general, she summoned up two of her favorite blends.
“I like Earl Grey and Orange Pekoe.”
He smiled again and she noticed that his eyeteeth were longer than most men’s, giving his mouth an almost dog-like appearance that she found strange yet endearing.
“Stella, you have good taste. We shall drink Earl Grey. Do you prefer lemon or milk?”
“Lemon.”
“Capital!” he said with a smile. “Milk would pollute a good Earl Grey.”
Darien sounded so British, she thought with delight, loving that in him. It made him unique among the men she had dated and she liked that, too. He might think he was more of a Yank now but his roots remained, just below the surface.
When the server, dressed in black slacks, white dress shirt, and a neat black tie, arrived Darien ordered Earl Grey. When the cups arrived, steaming, with a slice of lemon, Stella sipped hers, delighting in the full flavor. It was more refreshing on the late August day than she expected.
“Tell me about yourself,” Darien said, gazing into her face with those mesmerizing topaz eyes. “Why would a city girl from Kansas City decide to come teach in a small, rural town with a single high school?”
She had wondered that often since coming to Riverville.
“I thought I would like the change of scenery,” Stella said, “I guess I’m looking for a simpler life. What about you? Why would someone educated at Cambridge and Harvard want to teach in this small school?”
Darien stirred his cup of tea again and then put down the spoon before answering.
“I like my privacy and to live a quiet life away from prying eyes. I have lived in Riverville for six years now and although part of the small town reality is that everyone knows everyone else’s business, I like the place. The rugged hills appeal to my wilder nature and my home is very private.”
He sounded sincere. She
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