REVIEW RESPONSE: To Rogue Honey: yeah, poor Don. More about Samantha's past will be revealed throughout the story, but definitely look for the next couple of chapters which will have a bit more Don. Thanks. Here's the update.
Homecoming
Chapter 2:
Headmistress Beatrice Waterfield was a terrifying woman whose wiry white hair was always pulled taut in a bun on the top of her head and whose perpetually pursed lips proved the old wives' tale that if you frowned too much your face would be stuck like that.
"Ms Mann," Waterfield began after seating herself in behind her desk and offered Sam tea – which she politely accepted and sipped daintily – "Despite the concerns I voiced when you first enrolled Danielle in class, she seems to be doing fairly well, academically and behaviorally; however, I worry about her age."
"Madame, forgive me, but if she is doing well, what is there to worry about?"
"She may be doing well in her classes and she has yet to be sent to my office for behavior problem, but socially, she is suffering."
"I don't understand. She has always been outgoing."
"Outgoing, perhaps, Danielle is not socialize with girls close to her own age. She spends her time with girls far older than herself."
"I am sorry; I don't see the problem."
"She is precocious."
"She is mature for her age, granted, but she has always been around older children. I was under the impression that she spends most her time with her cousin Amanda."
"Amanda is fifteen. She will be graduating in only a few years. Then with whom do you propose Danielle spend her time?"
"I will talk to her about spending more time with girls her age."
"Thank you." Waterfield stood, and Sam followed suit. "That was all I need to speak with you about for the time being." They shook hands.
"Thank you for your time and concern, Madame."
"Mr. Brune, I am sure, waits for you outside." Waterfield opened the door for her.
Anthony Brune once again stood. He was a tall, handsome man, broad shouldered with a strong jaw. Sam was always most comfortable with the ones that looked like they played sports in school, after effects of growing up with her baseball playing twin no doubt.
"Ms Mann, my office is this way." He led her down the hall to a door that stood slightly ajar and pushed it open. "Please excuse the mess."
"Oh, hardly known for organization myself." He smiled.
"May I take your coat?"
"Yes, thank you." She handed him the coat and scarf that she had thrown over her arm previously. "Please, make yourself comfortable." She sat in a comfortable leather chair across from his desk. "Has Aunt Beatrice already tortured you with her tea?"
"I'm sorry? 'Aunt'?"
"Unfortunately yes, she is my great aunt."
"Oh, those must be… interesting family dinners."
He laughed deeply. "Yes, interesting is certainly a word to describe them. Did she?"
"Did she…?"
"Serve you tea."
"Oh, yes, she did." He held out a tin of sugar cookies.
"To get rid of the bitterness."
"Thank you," she accepted, choosing one. "I thought that was just the opinion of an uncouth American."
"No, that is the opinion of all who must suffer her company." He sat in her desk chair. "It's quite a pleasure to finally meet you; Danielle speaks of you quite a bit."
"She's mentioned you as well, Mr. Brune."
"It's Anthony, please."
"And I'm Samantha." He smiled again, drying her mouth. God, she was a sucker for a nice smile. "So, you wanted to speak with me?"
"Yes, well, I just wanted to introduce myself. Danielle is one of my top students."
"Well, that's wonderful to hear. I know she enjoys your class." They stared at each other for a moment.
"There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, but I can't seem to remember. I'm sorry." He shuffled through some papers on his desk. "I can't seem to think of it at all."
"It's fine." She brushed some of her rebellious curls from her eyes, truly wishing she had had time to style them that morning.
"Well, I have lived up to the stereotype of absent minded mathematician it seems. I won't hold you up any longer."
"Thank you. Um, here, hold on; let me give you my telephone number." She dug around in her bag until coming up with a pen and notepad. She scribbled down the number on a piece paper and handed it to him. "You can reach me at my flat this way, if you remember what it was you needed to speak about."
"Thank you." He pocketed the paper. "Let me walk you out."
-
He glanced around to make sure he was alone and clicked the link.
The screen seemed to take forever to load. It finally did.
It was a simple website, not many wanton graphics, just a blue background with a gold border and a quote at the top – "Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Ehad." He recognized the prayer from the few times his mother managed to drag him to the synagogue. Sam was always more pious than he. There were several links to various parts of the website. "Biography and Photograph Gallery," "Music," "Letter to Fans," and "Concerts and Appearances" were just a few. Not really knowing where to start, he clicked the "Letter" link.