Read Online The Woman Next Door by Barbara Delinsky - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Delinsky
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she?” he asked.
It was a minute before Amanda followed. She had been thinking of her own pregnancy, not Gretchen’s. But Gretchen was indeed where they’d left off.
“No one knows for sure,” she said and glanced at the slip of paper in his hand.
He held it out. “It was Maggie Dodd.”
Maggie was the vice principal of the school, but the number on the paper was for the office of the principal himself. Lifting the phone, Amanda punched it in. After barely a ring on the other end, a male voice said a low, “Fred Edlin.”
“Fred, it’s Amanda Carr. Maggie just called.”
“Here she is. I’ll let her explain.”
Maggie came on the line. “I hate interrupting your evening, Amanda, but we have a problem here. There was an incident at baseball practice this afternoon. Quinn Davis was involved.”
Amanda’s insides twisted—guilt telling her she should have more actively followed up on his e-mail, sought him out, stayed longer at school.
“Quinn Davis?” she repeated for Graham’s benefit. He wouldknow the name. Hard not to, living in a town whose weekly paper loved a hero, and Quinn was currently that. It helped that his family was so visible. One Davis or another was mentioned in the paper each week.
“He and a little group of friends showed up at practice drunk,” Maggie said.
Amanda let out a breath. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes. The coach marched them right over here. I’d have called you sooner, only it was a while before we reached Quinn’s parents. They were at the statehouse canvassing for wetlands regulations and weren’t pleased to have been called back. They’re in the other room arguing with the coach and Fred about what the punishment should be. We need your input. His parents want the thing hushed up. They say that their son does too much for the school to allow him to be used as an example. The problem is that the whole team saw him drunk. If there’s no punishment, what message does that send to the others?”
Amanda knew what message it sent. She didn’t want to give that message to them, any more than she wanted to give it to Quinn. He had to be responsible for his actions, all the more so for the exalted position he was in.
That said, she had to wonder why he had contacted her that day—had to wonder what was going on with him that he would drink after school.
“Have the others been punished?” she asked.
While Maggie gave her the peripheral information, Amanda held Graham’s gaze. He was struggling to be patient, but barely succeeding. Many times he had indulged her in student emergencies; this wasn’t one. His eyes were ink green and intense, demanding equal time. The conflict was tugging at her. There was a crisis right herein this house that needed tending. He wanted her to deal with their own problem first.
But she had her period. No amount of “dealing” would change that, and she didn’t know where to go from here. She hated what the medication was doing to her, hated living life on a closely timed schedule, hated the agony of the wait each month. She hated going to the clinic and feeling like a machine that wasn’t working right, hated feeling like a failure yet again. She was sick of the whole thing. She wasn’t ready to think about the next step.
She needed to feel useful. Working with Quinn and his parents would give her that. Besides, given the notes he had sent, she wanted to see the boy. His being with his parents was all the better.
“I’ll come down,” she told Maggie.
Graham set his jaw and looked away. When Amanda hung up the phone, he looked back with clear reproach.
Wanting him to understand, she filled him in on the immediate situation. “The other boys were suspended from the team for the season. Quinn’s parents don’t want him missing one game, much less six. My worry is why. They may be taking a stand for reasons that have nothing to do with Quinn.”
“They’re his parents,” Graham argued. “They should be able to take
It was a minute before Amanda followed. She had been thinking of her own pregnancy, not Gretchen’s. But Gretchen was indeed where they’d left off.
“No one knows for sure,” she said and glanced at the slip of paper in his hand.
He held it out. “It was Maggie Dodd.”
Maggie was the vice principal of the school, but the number on the paper was for the office of the principal himself. Lifting the phone, Amanda punched it in. After barely a ring on the other end, a male voice said a low, “Fred Edlin.”
“Fred, it’s Amanda Carr. Maggie just called.”
“Here she is. I’ll let her explain.”
Maggie came on the line. “I hate interrupting your evening, Amanda, but we have a problem here. There was an incident at baseball practice this afternoon. Quinn Davis was involved.”
Amanda’s insides twisted—guilt telling her she should have more actively followed up on his e-mail, sought him out, stayed longer at school.
“Quinn Davis?” she repeated for Graham’s benefit. He wouldknow the name. Hard not to, living in a town whose weekly paper loved a hero, and Quinn was currently that. It helped that his family was so visible. One Davis or another was mentioned in the paper each week.
“He and a little group of friends showed up at practice drunk,” Maggie said.
Amanda let out a breath. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes. The coach marched them right over here. I’d have called you sooner, only it was a while before we reached Quinn’s parents. They were at the statehouse canvassing for wetlands regulations and weren’t pleased to have been called back. They’re in the other room arguing with the coach and Fred about what the punishment should be. We need your input. His parents want the thing hushed up. They say that their son does too much for the school to allow him to be used as an example. The problem is that the whole team saw him drunk. If there’s no punishment, what message does that send to the others?”
Amanda knew what message it sent. She didn’t want to give that message to them, any more than she wanted to give it to Quinn. He had to be responsible for his actions, all the more so for the exalted position he was in.
That said, she had to wonder why he had contacted her that day—had to wonder what was going on with him that he would drink after school.
“Have the others been punished?” she asked.
While Maggie gave her the peripheral information, Amanda held Graham’s gaze. He was struggling to be patient, but barely succeeding. Many times he had indulged her in student emergencies; this wasn’t one. His eyes were ink green and intense, demanding equal time. The conflict was tugging at her. There was a crisis right herein this house that needed tending. He wanted her to deal with their own problem first.
But she had her period. No amount of “dealing” would change that, and she didn’t know where to go from here. She hated what the medication was doing to her, hated living life on a closely timed schedule, hated the agony of the wait each month. She hated going to the clinic and feeling like a machine that wasn’t working right, hated feeling like a failure yet again. She was sick of the whole thing. She wasn’t ready to think about the next step.
She needed to feel useful. Working with Quinn and his parents would give her that. Besides, given the notes he had sent, she wanted to see the boy. His being with his parents was all the better.
“I’ll come down,” she told Maggie.
Graham set his jaw and looked away. When Amanda hung up the phone, he looked back with clear reproach.
Wanting him to understand, she filled him in on the immediate situation. “The other boys were suspended from the team for the season. Quinn’s parents don’t want him missing one game, much less six. My worry is why. They may be taking a stand for reasons that have nothing to do with Quinn.”
“They’re his parents,” Graham argued. “They should be able to take
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