A few days later, John was just about to tell his Calculus I class to open their textbooks when the door opened and his new dean walked in. "Good morning, Mr. Sheppard."

"Morning, Dr. Weir." John gestured to her. "Class, this is Dr. Elizabeth Weir, our new academic dean."

The high schoolers obediently chorused Good morning, ma'am as Dr. Weir settled herself in a chair at the back of class.

"Feel free to ignore me," she told him, crossing her legs neatly. "I'm just here to observe."

It was trig review day, so by the end of class, the whiteboard was covered in proofs

"Okay. Review everything in chapter two, because it's all gonna be on the test." The class erupted in groans, and John shrugged. "Complain all you want. Won't change a thing."

A hand went up, and he nodded. "Yes, Cadman?"

"Yes, sir," the redheaded girl chirped, beaming. "Is there any possibility we could bribe you to ease up on that test, sir?"

John stole a glance back at Dr. Weir as the class laughed. She was watching with obvious amusement, her eyes dancing as she sat back and folded her arms.

"So, Mr. Sheppard?" She spoke for the first time since she'd come in, drawing curious looks from the class. "Is there a going rate for math teachers these days?"

He stared at her - she did not seem like the type to give him shit in front of his students - and she just raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.

Not what he'd expected.

"No dice," he replied. "I enjoy their pain too much."


South Glen sat on sprawling grounds; it was one of Virginia's oldest secondary schools, and the land, and the main building, dated back to before the Civil War. In warmer weather, plenty of people enjoyed the trails across campus, particularly the coastal path that wound across the bluffs. But as soon as the temperatures started to plummet in fall, when the winds turned biting and started to scour, most people gave up on it. John preferred the solitude.

On one particularly blustery afternoon, he found himself on a bench next to the path, braced against the wind. He took in a long breath, turning up the collar of his jacket.

The sound of footsteps nearby drew his attention, and he looked back to find Elizabeth Weir on the path, looking startled to see him.

"Dr. Weir." He nodded. "Hi."

"Hi," she breathed, her voice soft. "I'm sorry, I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Not at all." He waved a hand at the Chesapeake Bay in front of them. "Plenty of water. I can share."

It wasn't particularly funny, but she smiled at him anyway, amusement dancing in her eyes. Her smile was dazzling, and it took a moment for him to look away.

She leaned her wrists on the bench, taking in a deep breath. "You know, I don't think I could ever get tired of this."

"It's a pretty great view."

"Do you come out here often?"

"Sometimes." He shrugged. "When I need to clear my head. Or stretch my legs."

"I can see why you like it."

"You're welcome to sit," he offered. "As long as you're not hurrying off."

Dr. Weir tilted her head, clearly considering the invitation, and he wondered if she was looking for a polite way to say No, but she nodded. "Thanks."

She settled beside him, just far away enough not to touch, tucking her hands into the pockets of her red wool coat with a shiver. "I should have brought gloves."

"It does get windy." John eyed the woman beside him, who was watching the vast stretch of shimmering water before them with wide eyes. "So how's the first month turning out?"

"Good. Busy." She shook her head, smiling wryly. "There's just - a lot to take in, you know?"

John nodded. "If you don't mind my asking - what brought you here? You were out west before, right?"

"Yes, just outside Colorado Springs."

"So how'd you end up at South Glen?"

"Caldwell has friends at the Air Force Academy; I knew some of them, and they recommended me to him when this position came open. Normally I wouldn't jump ship during the academic year, but in this case, I decided to take the risk."

"Something at St. George?" he prompted.

"When I first got there four years ago, the faculty and administration were a mess. Constantly fighting with each other, department heads at each other's throats over money and tenure spots, development officers who didn't know how to coordinate with the academic programs. It's a miracle they were anywhere near financially solvent."

"So what happened?"

"It got worse, and worse, and then last summer it hit the fan, so to speak." Elizabeth smiled wryly, and he wondered just how literal that choice of words was. "We were probably months away from closing, but after some very - very - unpleasant meetings, we finally got people on the same page. The faculty voted to cut three programs of study, which wasn't a fun compromise, but a necessary one." She shook her head. "Our study abroad programs were hemorrhaging money, so we started partnering with the state university system, which meant our students had more programs to choose from, it cost less, and they got transfer credit."

"Sounds like you got a lot done."

"We did."

John smiled to himself. We. She didn't seem to realize she was deflecting. "So what happened?"

"I requested that the student life division be held to a similar standard of budget cuts. Given how many administrators in their division were redundant, and how many small programs they ran that could easily be combined, I thought it was only fair. If I had to gut academics, why shouldn't they have to trim down, too?"

"That sounds pretty reasonable," John offered.

"Well, President Wallace and I fundamentally disagreed on that point. And when the board of trustees voted in my favor -" she smiled a little sadly - "I saw the writing on the wall. I won the battle - student life was mandated to cut their budget as much as I'd cut mine - but I knew I was losing the war. No one wanted me there anymore."

"No one?"

"No one likes the person who cuts budgets. People lost their jobs because of me. And given that I had the president, many of the faculty, the provost of student life, and a fair number of administrators pushing against me -" she paused, and John watched as she mentally searched for the right words - "my ability to do my job was quickly diminishing."

"So you...jumped out of a moving car?"

"I did what I could. It was the right time to go. Time for a fresh start."

He had the distinct impression that there was something personal tucked between the details of that story, something she was very carefully not saying. She left a college for a high school, albeit a competitive one. Somewhere in there was a missing explanation.

But clueless as he sometimes felt, he had a pretty good feeling it was better not to ask.

Instead, he aimed for a safer target. "Did you like Colorado?"

She nodded, smiling fondly. "It was beautiful. I still miss the mountains."

"You'll get used to the water."

She beamed at him, her eyes warm. "I think you're right."

There was a long moment of silence, but it was a gentle, easy silence, just the breeze and the waves and the birds. John couldn't help but marvel - someone he knew so little, but the quiet felt as comfortable as he could imagine.

It occurred to him that maybe he could say something polite. She'd gotten all but thrown out of St. George; the least he could do was be nice.

"I guess I'm late on this, but - welcome to South Glen Academy, Dr. Weir."

"Elizabeth." He looked up, confused, and she tried to explain herself. "My name. I mean -" she shook her head, her nose wrinkled in frustration, and it was so bizarrely cute that he couldn't look away - "call me Elizabeth?"

John grinned broadly. Refreshing to know someone so polished could still occasionally put her foot in her mouth. "As long as you call me John."

"Deal." She stood, eyeing her watch. "I should go. I -" she smiled. "Thanks for listening. And thanks for sharing the view."

"Anytime."