A/N Hnng. So I never noticed it when I was only reading, but now that I'm writing, I see that this site seems to act up frequently. That's too bad, as it's so much fun. Anyway, continued thank you's for your kind reviews. Other authors have noted - it seems to be the only reliable means of knowing people are reading and enjoying. I hope you still are!

Eric explained in brief that when Bill had been approached regarding the assault and battery charges, he'd tendered his resignation on the spot. By the end of the day on Monday, Lorena Ball had done the same. She had stated that they'd managed to so impress Threadgill the previous week, that before they left Arkansas, they had been offered positions there, in such pretty packaging that they were hard to refuse. Eric said that could have been equally "total bullshit or completely true." He didn't know if Arkansas was just throwing them a curveball, or if they'd been courted for some time before, as we'd discovered they'd been doing with the board members.

The upshot was that the software division had been left scrambling for management, and it was unclear what, if any, developmental stuff they'd taken before their access was cut off. Either was bound by non-disclosure, but that stuff is pretty hard to prove until it manifests, and by then, it's too late. They certainly weren't counting on Arkansas Confederate to comply. The merger itself was up in the air. He said the only good news for the week had been that with Bill and Lorena away last week, they weren't privy to the fact that Area Five was now fully aware of Arkansas' more subversive bid to take over. She'd actually skipped the meeting where she would have been briefed, presumably to prepare for her departure.

I recounted exactly what she'd said to me, editing out all the curses. He clarified that yes, he'd sent a flirty note along with the basket. It had been in a sealed envelope, and he'd left it before we had departed, so I guess Bill had just taken it, which was weird. I was kind of hung up on the erratic behaviour of both of them, because it just didn't make any sense to me at all.

"I don't really think you can explain it, Sookie," he says. "When people's plans go to shit, a lot of times they just start floundering. He obviously never intended you to find out about Lorena."

"She made it sound like he wouldn't even care."

"He clearly does, or he wouldn't be trying to reconcile with you," he replies. He sounds cold again. It made sense. Whatever had happened between us, this was probably not a favourite conversational topic for him.

"Well, he's doing a bang up job," I say, letting my sarcasm out with abandon. I catch my own pun, and I burst out laughing a moment later.

"Sookie, it's not funny," he says. What a spoilsport. It was at least mildly amusing.

"It does no good to dwell on it. Oh, I didn't tell you. I'm officially a substitute teacher again," I say, offering a little course correction.

"That's great. Have you heard anything from New Orleans yet?"

"No, but I'm only about halfway down the list, and even still a lot of schools won't be seriously hiring until the summer."

"It'll be nice once you're firmly settled."

"I don't think I'll mind being here for a bit," I say. "I'm going to start on the garden next week. I've got so many ideas."

"It'll be nice to keep you busy, I suppose. It makes me look forward to being in town again next month a little less though. Incidentally, I got your basket and your decorously worded note. I'll be starting on that book this weekend."

"I'm glad you liked it, I didn't think Pam was thrilled with hers."

"Oh, I caught her playing with the Barbie doll when I came in from lunch. I think she liked it well enough."

"I'm glad," I say, smiling to myself, mostly over the fact that he hinted he'd have liked to see me in New Orleans.

We chatted for a while longer, and I told him about nosy, good-natured Mrs. Park, and about Jason's coping with his new authority, and my rude little doctor. He listened with good humour. Eventually I realized that the conversation was being quite one-sided and grew a bit self conscious.

"I feel like I'm doing all the talking. What else have you been up to this week?"

"Hm. Your friend Jade will be coming out next week, so I've had Pam find a nice place for her and plan a couple of dinners," he offers.

"Oh! Do tell her I say hello. I got an email from her but I was not really sure if I wanted to keep up the acquaintance, so I only sent a very brief reply. I take it you'll be keeping her?" I pause for a moment. "I guess I shouldn't really ask after that kind of thing. Anything not-work related going on?"

"I'm afraid it's been all work related."

"Not even on the weekend? Eric, you know what they say about all work and no play."

"Sookie, are you calling me a dull boy?" he teases.

We say goodbye a little while after that and I find that once again I'm left feeling lighter just for having chatted with him. I decided to put the pin back in that one for now. At some point I'd need to sort out my feelings there, but geography mooted the point quite deftly. I take another look at the documents that Mr. Maimonides had left me with. I was thinking that maybe if I took anything from Bill, it should be the full cost of my hospital stay. Then I was thinking that I really wanted to confirm what our joint checking account was. I made some notes for Mr. Cataliades, and then I phoned my doctor's office, but only got the answering service. I'd have to call tomorrow.

After dinner I check my email for a bit and I'm pleasantly surprised to see that I already have a response about a car, so I email back making an appointment to meet this woman and her son the following morning to check it out. I wind my evening down with a book and a bath. Once everything is quiet, I find that I'm exhausted. I fall asleep hoping for a less eventful week.

The following morning I woke up giddy with the idea that I could have fresh coffee, and I decided to bake. I used Gran's old recipe for corn muffins and packed up half to bring over to Crystal and Jason. I was feeling less stiff today, which I took as a good sign. I used my new crème for my bruises, and was once again liberal with the makeup.

The woman I met about the car was extremely nice, even if her son was a little rude. He seemed very interested in making the transaction quick, which gave me a bit of pause at first. His mother, by contrast, seemed more concerned with making sure I was a nice girl who would take care of her car, which was a powder blue Volkswagen Golf, a few years old. She kept calling it her Rabbit, which seemed to annoy her son. I knew it would have amused Amelia greatly, and probably Pam, too, owing to the name's infamous association with a very different kind of high-performance machine.

The old woman explained to me that this was the old model name for basically the same car, by the same manufacturer, years and years ago. It had been her very first car, the first that was hers alone, which she and her husband had to scrimp and save for when her children were still young. She had absolutely adored it, and so had pretty much been buying updated versions of the same exact car ever since. I got the strong impression, by the son's irritation, that she shared this story a lot. It was new to me, and I found it charming, particularly the bit where he had called all automobiles "wabbits" until he was six. I took the car for a drive. It had a surprising amount of zip. She informed me proudly that it had never been in an accident, and I saw that the inspection was only a couple of months old.

The clincher for me was when she patted my arm as we pulled back in to the parking lot of the Briarwood Retirement Community. "I think it suits you nicely dear," she said with a fond little smile.

My impulse was to hand her a check on the spot, but I held myself back. I wanted to have a mechanic check it over, and the son emphasized that I'd need to pay with a bank check or a money order, which he was right to request. I phoned Tray Dawson, the mechanic in town, and he was free, so we rode over immediately. I told him I'd be driving it back and forth to New Orleans as well as around town, which had been its primary use before. He let me know that I'd probably need to replace the brake pads in the next sixth months or so, but otherwise he gave the car a clean bill of health. The son, whose name was Glenn, and I went straight over to the bank and I had a check drawn, and the title signed and notarized. I drove him and his mother Rose back to Briarwood in my new car. It was barely three o'clock and I had a major accomplishment under my belt for the day.

I felt incredibly relieved, and I took a picture of my new Rabbit and sent it off Jason, Amelia, and Lafayette. Rose was tickled that I was going to keep the name. I stood and chatted with her for about fifteen minutes once Glenn took off, after shaking my hand and promising his mother that he'd see her Sunday. He had to get back to work. He probably wasn't such a bad guy, just a busy one. I had Jason and Crystal's muffins in the rental car with me, and on a whim, I gave them over to Rose and she was delighted to have something to share around. Apparently they had a community kitchen, but it was very little used. I walked her inside and took a moment to fetch my flier down from the bulletin board, so I wouldn't get any other calls about a car. I'd found a perfect one.

Back in the parking lot, I locked up the Rabbit. I wanted to get Jason to meet me over in Shreveport so I could return the rental, and then give me a ride back here to mine. When he called me back, he said that would be no problem, though he wouldn't be getting out of work for a couple of hours. I had a bit of time to kill so I stopped back at Dr. Ludwig's office to request they send my records, and did a little bit of shopping.

I spent the evening and most of the day on Friday continuing to send my resume out to schools in New Orleans. I was aiming to get it finished by the end of the weekend, and was right on track come Saturday morning when my phone rang.

"Sookie? It's Esther Park," she said.

"Oh, good morning Missus Park, are you well?"

"Yes dear, I'm just fine, but I'm afraid I can't say the same for Adam Caloway, his father passed away last night."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," I say, straining to remember who in the world is Adam Caloway. "Was it sudden?" I inquired politely.

"Yes, heart attack," she said.

"Oh, that's just awful," I repeat. "Will there be a service?"

"Oh yes dear, but not down here. His folks are over in Jackson. The reason I am calling is that we were wondering if you could take over his classes next week?" Oh. I wanted to cringe and do a little happy dance at the same time. Yay, income, but poor Caloway family.

"Well of course, I'd be glad to help out," I say.

"That's good then, I'll have him give you a call today to let you know what they're covering."

"Thank you for thinking of me, Missus Park, I'll wait for his call then."

"Of course Sookie, I'll talk to you soon," she says, and we said our goodbyes.

This was definitely the down side to substituting. People being absent from work is almost never for a nice reason. I received an email from Adam Caloway not long after hanging up with Mrs. Park, and discovered that he was a science teacher, which made things easy, really, because the lesson plans tended to follow the textbook very linearly. I didn't have the textbooks he was using, and he offered to leave his at the school office for me with his attendance book and a few other handouts he had prepared for the upcoming week, on his way out of town to go and join his family.

I thought of offering to go and pick them up from him, but I figured that seemed a bit forward. I decided that if I were going to have this gig for a bit that I would happily volunteer to do that for teachers who were ill, but not in situations like this, not that I was hoping or planning for a situation like this to arise again, but sometimes it happens. Oh well. I would not be intruding on Adam Caloway's grief today, so I waited an appropriate amount of time for him to make the drop off, and then I went and retrieved what he'd left for me later in the afternoon. People are up at the high school all day on Saturdays, between all the practices and club meetings and sports games.

In a small school like this, it's common for a teacher to have multiple subjects. Mr. Caloway had chemistry and physics. He taught two normal sections of each, and one advanced section of each, so he saw all the juniors and seniors every day. The primary difference between the two sections was the depth with which they approached the math and the formulas. Since that's my forte, I was looking forward to those lessons in particular. The notes that he left for me were very extensive. He had even marked his attendance book with nicknames (Jenna not Jen nor Jennifer) and tricky name pronunciations (See-ya-bairt. I was thankful for that one, it was spelled as if you'd say it "Sig-bert"). What a thorough guy. The more I got into it, the more excited I got.

As the afternoon wore on I found myself very torn between wanting to finish my school list, to hasten my chance of coming into classes of my own, and studying up for subbing this week. I ended up switching off until I fell asleep around eleven. Another wild night at the Stackhouse homestead. Truthfully? I was pretty darned content with plain old uneventful.

Sunday morning I had finally managed to get myself to church. My face was definitely showing improvement, which is good, because I don't like to wear a lot of makeup to church. A lot of the older gals are not of this same opinion, as I can personally attest. After the service I found myself quite pink in the cheeks. It was partially from half a dozen women's fuchsia lipstick, and partially from where they'd each tried to daintily wipe it away. I was quite happy to stay and visit with a lot of Gran's old friends over the coffee hour that followed the service.

I got invited to lunch with one woman who Gran had used to play cards with. She was quite determined to introduce me to her grandson. I smiled politely each time she managed to work him adroitly into the conversation. I finally had to hint that I was not really looking for a man when she forsook subtlety and offered to have me over the next time she could get him down for a Sunday dinner. She took it in spirits, and told me she would "keep it in her hat" for the time being. I headed back to the farmhouse later in the afternoon feeling for all the world like I was home.

I spoke with Lafayette that night to tell him of the exciting week that I had planned, and he was thrilled right along with me. He got coy after that, and I managed to wrangle out of him, albeit after not a whole lot of prodding, that he'd met a guy over the weekend that he really liked. "Boyfriend material," was what he said. We gabbed for a little while about how he should best approach the early phase of wanting to get to know the guy better.

"Clearly you just need to get his grandmother to set you two up for a lunch date," I say, harkening back to what I told him of my afternoon.

"Aw, Sookie," he says, giving it a little inflection. "I don't know that your methods will work for me. I don't play a very good damsel in distress besides," he finishes. I can almost hear the back of his hand come up to his forehead as he pretends to swoon.

"Oh stop it, that wasn't deliberate."

"And how is Mister Eric Northman, while we's on the subject?" he drawls.

"He's... quite busy with working, I suppose. It's not quite like that. He's just... and I'm... He's so far away. Even if I were in NOLA, he'd still be far away. I don't really know what it is, if it's even anything. He's just carrying on being kind to me, since our whole whatever it was. I don't really think it's anything," I babble.

"Oh yeah honey, that sounds exactly like it isn't even anything," he says, disbelievingly.

I give him a sigh. "I thought we were talking about you," I say.

"Alright, we'll talk about me. I'm thinking I'll just ask him to dinner. Nice and direct-like."

I listened for a while longer while he debated the merits of direct versus indirect approaches to the newfound object of his infatuation. I certainly hoped it would work out for the best. If anyone deserved a good man, it was Lafayette. We said our good nights a while later and I turned in early. I had class in the morning! It ended up being a good thing that I did turn in early, since I was so excited that I kept myself awake for a solid hour anyway.

The week went incredibly well. On Monday, the principal made a point of coming to each of the classes throughout the day and introducing me, telling the students that Mr. Caloway had had a death in the family, but wanted them to stay on track with his lesson plan for the week. I remembered from my own high school career that substitute teachers were commonly regarded as study-hall monitors, if they were lucky, so I appreciated her greeting the students along with me and letting them know that I'd actually be teaching. There were a couple of class-clowns, but overall, I didn't have much hassle.

On Tuesday, one of the students was bold enough to ask me about my face at the beginning of class. It was one of the jokers, and he asked if we were going to need to get a substitute for the substitute. I was still showing the marks of my accident, albeit I was pleased with my healing so far. I just told them that I'd gotten caught behind a door, when my friend flung it open, and they all had a laugh as they visualized a far more amusing scene than had actually transpired. There weren't any more questions about it, so the adolescent rumour mill must not have been able to make much of the story. I was happy with that, it had been one of my few apprehensions about coming in so soon.

Wednesday I got a call from a school in New Orleans inviting me to come down the following Monday to interview for an immediate opening teaching pre-Algebra, and I was ecstatic. Anita Baker had left the message during the morning and I called her back at lunchtime to set my appointment for two o'clock the following Monday. I called Amelia to ask if I could stay over on Sunday night, and she suggested I come up on Saturday instead and we could just have the weekend. It sounded like a great plan.

I stayed on track with the lesson plans in each of the classes, and was able to stick to Mr. Caloway's normal schedule of review and quiz days on Friday. We spent half the period going back over the key points from the week, and any questions they'd had about their homework. Then they were given very easy quizzes which they most likely could have passed even if they only paid attention to the review and nothing else I'd said for the last four days. I wasn't sure if they'd been dumbed down for the week, or if that was the norm, but I figured they at least served to drive all the main points home. I went ahead and half-graded them, putting in check-marks or notes only where important information was missed, which was rarely. I'd leave Mr. Caloway to look them over, but hopefully I'd lightened his load a bit.

My borrowed students all left in a chorus of "Bye Miss Stackhouse!" and "See ya Miss S's," at the end of each class. Well, not all of them really, but more than a handful. I felt the love. I marked the last of the papers and organized all the week's materials into a box to leave for Mr. Caloway. I met the principal in the office as I was departing and we had a nice talk about the school and how I'd done. I left feeling comfortable, and pretty confident that I'd be asked back if there were a need. I also took a moment to say goodbye to Mrs. Park and let her know I'd miss her Sunday, since I'd be in New Orleans.

I definitely fretted over my outfit choices for Monday as I packed up that night. I settled on a navy skirt-suit with a pink shirt, and navy heels, and then I packed a grey suit anyway. I got a good night's sleep and my drive was uneventful. The Rabbit was working out just fine. I called Amelia as I pulled up to her apartment and she came bounding up to meet me while I was still pulling my things out of the car.

"I want to hug you, but I don't want to hurt you!" she exclaimed.

I gave her a long but gentle hug. "Just don't squeeze," I warned. At Dr. Ludwig's instruction, I'd removed the tape a few days ago. I'd still be another month before I was right as rain, she had estimated, but leaving the compression tape on can cause other issues with your breathing, or something.

"So, I have news," she says.

"Can the news accompany lunch?" I ask, "Because I am starving." Actually I was tired, but in lieu of sleep, food would suffice.

"Yes, sure, come on I'll help with your things then we can go," she says, taking my little suitcase, which I'd re-dubbed my weekend bag. I carry my big purse and a smaller one as I trail along in her wake. She was practically tapping her foot while she waited for me to tuck my things away into her spare bedroom.

"Amelia, just tell me" I say, smiling at her impatience as I emerge.

"No, we need to be situated."

"Alright," I reply, accepting her need to be settled down somewhere before she starts to share.

I duck into the bathroom to do a modicum of freshening up, and as I follow her back down to the street matching her quick pace as we head to whatever restaurant she has in mind, she asks me idly about the drive and about my week.

"I have to say, I really loved being back in a classroom. I don't know if I just lucked out with the kids, or if the guy I was subbing for has them so well in order, or if I just missed it so much, but it was just wonderful," I gush.

"Yeah, yeah. That's great," she says, as the server shows us to our table. "Okay, ready?"

I chuckle at her eagerness. I'm fine with it. It's been all about me for quite long enough. "Ready," I assure her with a nod.

"I met your friend David Threadgill this week," she says with satisfaction.

"Oh? He's not really my friend, I've only met him once," I start to say.

"Ask me how I met him," she says.

"How did you meet him?" I comply.

"Through Tara," she says, holding up a finger to stall me. "Specifically, I had lunch with them yesterday." I raise my eyebrows at her, waiting for the finish. "Apparently they are a couple," she continues as my eyes widen, "And not just dating, they're moving in together. She wanted to ask me about any properties I know of that might work for them."

"No!" I exclaim. It's both my genuine reaction and the one she expects.

"Yes! Isn't that bizarre?"

"Very! I didn't even know she was dating anyone at all."

"Well from what you said, he's right up her alley."

"Meaning?"

"I don't know, first husband material, I guess." I scowl a bit at that. I'm not really a fan of the casualness that people have adopted toward broken marriages. It's so unfortunate when it happens. It's sad to hear it mentioned as a practical certainty.

"That's just bizarre," is what I comment, instead. It really is. Small world? I guess not that small, I mean they work together, sort of. At the same place, anyway. Even still, it's an odd coincidence.

"Anyway, so we were talking about you," she continues, and I pull a face. "Don't look at me like that, we're your friends, we care. We talk about our concern for you when you're not around. Get over it." I give a little huff in response to that and she continues, "So we were talking about you and Bill and getting hurt and what a first class a-hole he is," she says, and I roll my eyes. "And that's when David finally connected the Sookie dots and realized from where he knows you."

"Oh god," I groan, cringing. I had kind of hoped that Tara would never find out that I was the sometimes dinner companion of Eric Northman. She never would have imparted what she had if she had realized there was a connection there, and she might be dead on right in being upset about it. I still wasn't sure on that one. "Did she freak out?"

"That's the thing, she didn't. She was pleased, like, all friends together, and then he was all sorts of complimentary about you and Eric and that Pam woman."

"That's..."

"Really weird, right?" Amelia finishes. I just nod. Really, really weird.

"Maybe she was putting up a front?" I ask, but she just shrugs. "So are you helping them find a place?" I continue, because I'm frankly not sure what else I can add to the conversation at this point.

"What? No. I'm not a realtor, and I definitely don't want to get too steeped in helping them search. I don't even have time for that. We ended up just talking about neighbourhoods and things."

"Well I guess... good for Tara? I mean he didn't seem that terrible when I met him. He's a little rude, but not unmanageably so."

"Yeah, that's the impression I got. He was a little condescending until Tara name-dropped my father, and then he seemed a lot more delighted about making my acquaintance," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks Tara," I murmur, and it's Amelia's turn to nod. "So Eric and Pam had the right of it, he's mostly just into being rich and well connected," I surmise.

"That's the impression I got, yeah. Like I said, he suits her perfectly."

"That's not nice, she's not as bad as that."

"She is and we love her anyway." That makes me sigh. I guess it is true, though. "So are you going to tell Eric?" she asks.

"Uh, I don't know? Why?"

"Well, it could affect him," she says.

"I don't see how. Seems like it would only make him dislike either of them more than he does, and that's not particularly relevant to his business."

"It sort of lends validity to her claim though, I mean she's obviously got a very vested interest in David's success, even beyond the job she's doing. Eric should know who the players are if she's still working against him."

I smirk. "I think you're getting way too into this."

"It's like being privy to a whole network of intrigue, while being simultaneously completely unaffected by it myself. What's not to interest?" she says blithely.

"Well," I hedge. "As far as I know, he's already acting on the information he has. I guess I'll mention it if it comes up, but I really don't like to be involved in this stuff, and I don't really want him to mistake me on this point."

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"I don't want to be in a position where I receive information that he would benefit from knowing...I don't want him to ever expect that, or ever have the chance to imply that it would be helpful...I just don't want to be involved."

"I can see that."

"Good."

"Is that because you'd do it?" she asks.

"I don't know, I guess. He's done, and he's doing, so much for me. I'd feel obligated to help him if I ever could, but I wouldn't want it to be at the expense of someone else, more than it already has."

"I can understand that. So you're still talking then? He didn't just do his whole rescue thing and then ride off into the sunset on you?"

"We're still talking. Well, we've talked a couple of times. I think you could say that technically, he is still doing the whole rescue thing. It's really weird."

"Weird how?"

I stop to explain about Mr. Cataliades helping me through the legal stuff with Bill, and that holds us up for a while, as it's all new information to her. She's got the same question I have about the supposed joint savings account, and agrees with me that if I take anything from him, it should be the full cost of my medical bills.

"But part of me doesn't want to take anything at all," I say. "Part of me feels like I should suck it up just to prove I don't need him for anything."

"Honest response?" she asks. She's preparing me for a hard truth. I gave her a nod to go ahead. "It sounds like pride. In fact, if Gran were here, I'm pretty sure that what she'd say exactly is, 'While pride increases, fortune declines'." Oh, that was low. I narrow my eyes at her, not truly mad, as she well knows, but to show her that invoking Gran to bolster her advice is a dirty trick. "Be pragmatic, Sookie, that's all I'm saying," she finishes.

"I will take this under advisement," I say. She's made a fair point.

"Well what does Eric say?" she asks.

"Amelia, cool it with the 'Eric' okay?" My patience just slipped out the back door. "I didn't just get out whatever that was with Bill to be runnin' off to somebody else and having' them make all my decisions for me. I'll decide what is best."

"Ah, Sook, that's not what I meant. I'm just being..." she trails off. "I just think it's sweet. His concern for you, and the care he's taking. I didn't mean that you should let him rule you, just that I bet he'd like it if you asked."

"I think he's just a problem solver by his nature," say, making no concessions about his motivations.

"That seems accurate."

"Right, so it's not entirely clear if whatever he's doing is for me, or if this is just what he does. I just stumbled into his way."

"Ah."

"I mean I think there's something there, but it's just not clear the extent of it, and as things stand, there's no point in even thinking much more about it," I say and then continue, "You know, what happened to my friend Amelia who just wants to hear about how big his thing is?" I finish, flustered.

"Is it big then?" she asks tentatively, a small grin creeping across her face. I can't help but smile back impishly as I give a slow nod.

We decided to head back to her apartment and just hang out for the evening. We got into our 'jammies and watched movies, ate ice cream, and just talked about our weeks and our friends. It was a true girls' night. Amelia had fresh sheets out for me on the bed and as I was making it up I was thinking that if I wanted any more of nights like these, I was going to have to get down here in a hurry. Quaint and quiet as it is, no one will ever be willing to visit me in Bon Temps. This was kind of fine in the interim, of course, since I wouldn't even have a bed to offer Amelia if she did come. I was looking forward to getting my per diem check from the school. It wouldn't be much, but I think I might buy an air mattress or something, both to tide me over, and to keep for guests. I settled into her dreamy guest bed thinking that Gran's lumpy old mattress just wasn't going to cut it for much longer.

Sunday morning brought us to brunch at a new place that Amelia had heard about from one of her Women Entrepreneur friends. It promised Eggs Benedict made to order that would knock my socks off, so I was thrilled. We watched mesmerised for a few minutes as the sous chef whipped up another batch of hollandaise sauce from scratch while waiting for our respective pots of coffee and tea to be served. I heard a squeal of excitement over the din of the dining room, the siren sound of old female friends meeting. I looked around with a smile to see where it was coming from. I hadn't expected it was directed at me, I'm just fond of seeing warm meetings like that. It's not rude or staring or anything, I just look on in the same way that I might if a cute kid walked into the room. So I was surprised to find an older woman fast approaching Amelia and I.

"Is that Sookie Stackhouse?" she beamed. I knew her, I know I did. I just wasn't coming up with her name.

"It's Patti Parker!" she exclaims graciously. Oh right, Patti, from the garden tour. "Mitz, I told you this was a popular place, didn't I?" she's saying to the friend following in her wake.

"Patti, hi there," I say, standing up. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek as she grasps my arm lightly so I return the gesture.

"It's so nice to run in to you here, have you just sat down?" she asks, and then before I can stop myself, my courtesies take over and I've invited them to join us, meeting Amelia's bemused expression with a radiant smile. Patti is already signalling the wait staff to bring us over two more chairs.

"Mitz, this is Sookie Stackhouse from Bon Temps, up near Shreveport, she's a friend of Inge's grandson. Sookie, this is our friend Melissa Pirrie," Patti says. I guess by 'our' friend, she means hers and Inge Northman's.

"Mitz or Mitzy, please," the other woman says, taking my hand.

"Well then, Mitzy, Patti, this is Amelia Broadway, from right here in town," I finish, scooting back so that Amelia can have her hand shaken.

"Broadway, how glamorous," beams Patti, greeting Amelia.

"How do you do?" asks Mitzy Pirrie.

Decorum dutifully shown we settle back down with our new friends.

"Well I've just been out in my garden non-stop for the last two weeks after that tour, how about you Sookie?" Patti asks me promptly.

We fall into easy conversation after that. We don't stay on gardening long once Amelia admits she doesn't have one. Instead we talk about the city, about moving house, about restaurants, the food they're serving, recipes. Patti Parker seems to be a force in her own right. She guides our chatter seamlessly from topic to topic, engaging all three of us on every point, doing it all with a guileless and unstudied manner that keeps us all at our ease for the next ninety minutes. I had noticed it a couple of weeks ago when we'd met. She was a sure fire Southern Woman, and no mistake. I bet she would be an absolute riot with a couple of mint juleps in her. She had quite a kick off just the mimosas we're sipping.

"Now Sookie, are you in town for long this time?" Patti asks.

"I'm afraid not, I have an interview with the Beecher School tomorrow and then I'm heading back up north," I reply.

"Oh yes! Sookie is a school teacher," Patti explains to Mitzy "Mathematics, wasn't it?" she glances back to me to clarify, and I give her a nod.

"Ooo, you wretched little thing," Mitzy scolds me with a playful tone. "I just hated my Maths teacher when I was in school! Sums on the blackboard and woe betide you if you got one wrong. Mean old nuns, that's what we had in my day," she smirks.

I grin at her. I get that a lot. Not necessarily the nuns bit, but it seems everyone has an evil math teacher somewhere in their history. "I can only do my best to make it fun," I say primly in reply. "Math gets a very bad rap, you know. It's quite unjustified."

"Oh, it wasn't as bad as I make it out to be. I'm sure you know as well as I do that it's not the subject but the teacher that makes the impact," Mitzy continues.

"I certainly do. I was lucky to have a lot of great teachers myself."

"And I am certain they would be proud to see you follow in their footsteps," Mitzy finishes with a smile.

Patti and Amelia had little else to add on the subject of education for the moment, and so Patti grasped the conversational rudder once again and steered us towards talk of a news article she had read.

"That was certainly surreal," Amelia was saying sometime later. We'd parted company with the two women after brunch. Patti had given me her contact card and taken my number, telling me she intended on phoning me up for lunch the next time she was in Shreveport. They'd had a lovely time with "their new young friends". Amelia had given both women one of her calling cards. I felt embarrassed not to have one of my own to share. Maybe I should get some printed sometime. Apparently the one thing my new phone does not do is bridge that wide a generation gap.

"Why Miss Broadway, did you not enjoy brunch with the society women?" I tease.

"I did actually. That Patti's a pip," Amelia says.

"She is, isn't she? I only had a small taste when we met, she was sure out in full force today though."

"So she's friends with Eric's grandma? That's how you know her?"

"Yeah," I say, and then realize I have to explain all about the chance circumstances that lead to our spending the afternoon with Eric's grandparents, and of course, Patti Parker.

"That all sounds incredibly adorable," she says dryly after I've finished.

"It sort of was actually. The women were all over him the entire time. His grandmother is very sweet. She was real grateful to spend the day with him. I don't think he sees his family much at all."

"If they're anything like mine, I figure I can understand that. They're not all Patti's in that set."

"I think they might be, actually. Mitzy was cute too. Maybe over seventy they all turn kindly and amusing, at least the women," I ponder. "Maybe it's old women in general. Gran's friends have been nothing short of adorable as well."

"Something to look forward to, then," Amelia continues in her sardonic tone.

"Ah, you'll make a wonderful old lady, Amelia. You'll have get a proper house at some point so you have a yard to scare the whippersnappers out of," I tease. She finally breaks and joins me in laughing at the idea that she could one day be the neighbourhood witch, scaring all the children.

Back at Amelia's that night, I was modelling the grey and the blue suits for her, and we tried to decide what I should do with my hair when my phone rang. Amelia caught my smile when I checked and saw it was Eric. She beat a hasty retreat out of the guest room before I could shoo her away.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Good evening, Miss Stackhouse," he says smoothly.

"Why good evening Mister Northman," I reply, all delighted surprise. I was glad to hear from him, and not a catastrophe in sight, even.

"I was just wondering what you're up to," he says.

"Aw Eric, were you thinking of me?" I coo, half joking.

"Yes," he answers simply. My smile widens a bit. I wonder if he can sense it.

"So, what's new?" he asks, his tone a little lighter.

"Well, I got a car, got it registered, I subbed all last week teaching high school science, and this morning I had brunch with your grandmother's friends Patti and Mitzy," I report.

"Are you in New Orleans then?"

"Yup, I have an inter-view tomor-row," I half sing it as I answer him. I'm really excited.

"What do you think of your chances?" he asks.

"I'm not sure really. I know it's an immediate opening, and it's for pre-algebra, which is just regular algebra, only we get sneaky about the variables. But it's right in the middle school level," I rattle off.

"Sounds perfect," he says.

"It sure would be. I've missed it so much. I don't think even I realized until last week just how much."

"Well then I hope you get it. Any other leads? Have you started looking for a place yet?"

"I really want to find a job first, and then situate as is convenient to that. Also I'd like to have a job before I take on rent."

"Ah, speaking of that. How are things going with Cataliades?"

"Nothing new to report there, really, just what I told you last week. I think we're waiting to hear back from his guy at this point. He's offered me money, in exchange for basically submitting a document that says the whole thing was an accident and I do not believe he had any ill intent, nor should be prosecuted. I'm not real clear on what the ramifications of that would be, in terms of the protective order, which I do want to keep. The amount he offered was not equal to the hospital bill, so we are waiting. I do not think it's so unfair to hope for that, if I decide to take anything at all, do you think?"

"It's not unfair, no."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be drawing it out, or anything. I'm sure it's costing you a lot with all the billable hours and such. I'd like to repay you for that, if you'd allow it."

"I will not."

"Eric..."

"Sookie, please allow that it's for my own peace of mind. Now, tell me how you ended up at brunch with my grandmother's friends," he says.

Stymied, I let him know how the two old women happened upon us this morning, and all about the amusing time we had with them.

"You should call your grandmother," I blurt out as I finish. "I bet she'd be glad to hear from you."

"Mm. Maybe this week."

"Well, either Patti or Mitzy is bound to tell her they ran into us, since Patti knows that we are friends. So I'm sure she'll be thinking of you. It'd probably make her day."

"I'll call then," he concedes. He sounds a bit begrudging.

"Eric, I hope it's not too personal to ask, but why don't you like them? They seemed so nice." I hear him sigh.

"Broadly?" he starts. "I imagine for the same sorts of reasons that your friend Amelia uses her mother's maiden name instead of her father's." I nodded, though he can't see me. I'd gathered that much. "Specifically? It's because I don't really care to hear any more about the hotels I should be buying, the friends' granddaughters I should be marrying, the clubs I should be joining, the plans I should be making, or the decisions I should have allowed to be made for me."

"Oh Eric," I say, soothingly after a long pause. "I wish I could give you a hug right now."

"I don't need a hug," he gripes brusquely.

"No, but, don't you want one?"

"Perhaps," he allows. "Perhaps more than just a hug." It's like I can hear the grin coming back on his face at that last bit.

"Well I'm sure our paths will cross again one of these days."

"If I had known you were in Nola this weekend, it would have been today. I could have saved you from doddering old biddies and the risk of heart disease from rich French sauces."

"Is this like a thing?" I ask, completely offhand.

"The saving you thing? No, it's a joke, which you started last week, about always being in a disaster."

"No, I meant this thing with us thing."

"Ah," he pauses. "I thought this was implied."

"Perhaps the inclination," I say hesitantly, "but you are way over there, and I am way over here."

"Not always. I'll be out in a couple of weeks. I'd like to see you then, if you're able, just so that's clear."

"I think that can be arranged," I say. I cannot stop smiling if you paid me.

"Good then. I'll give you a call later in the week?" he says.

"Yes, and tell Inge I say hello," I say, reminding him. He's rolling his eyes, I know.

"Goodnight Sookie," he says in mock exasperation.

"Goodnight Eric," I say, hanging up. I squeak with pleasure, and Amelia appears a moment later, curious.

"It's a thing," I say, dismissively, though still smilingly. She rolls her eyes with a grin and a shake of her head, and says goodnight as well. Good, good day.

The following afternoon I had my meeting with Anita Baker. I like to think it went well. We went over my experience, which unfortunately did not take very long. We spent a lot more time discussing my philosophy on teaching, what qualities I felt were most important in a teacher, and how I tried to exemplify these both in and out of the classroom. I reiterated when she asked that I was available immediately, and that I was filling my time substituting in the meanwhile. The only sticky point came when she asked why I had moved to Seattle and back so quickly. I hadn't really prepared a diplomatic answer to that. Big oversight on my part.

"I guess I could be evasive and just say personal reasons," I began, drawing a deep breath. "But I'll be honest with you ma'am. Woman to woman," I glance down at her wedding ring momentarily, "I didn't realize I was with a bad man until that mistake was already made. All I can do now is move forward. It's certainly not a circumstance that I intend to allow to affect my career in teaching." It wasn't brilliant, but it was honest, and the best I had. Maybe I'd blown it right there. I wouldn't find out today. She responded with a nod of understanding and then changed the subject to how I cope with disobedience in the classroom. For the record, I expect manners, and I'm liberal with the after school detentions. I tend to stick around for an hour anyway to do my grading and offer extra help. Mrs. Baker let me know that this is generally an acceptable practice, however all incidents require parental contact. As a private school, they were very big on communicating with parents. Many of them felt they were paying for that degree of participation. This sounded fine to me. I'd always welcome concerned parents over disinterested ones.

After a tour of the school I went back to Amelia's to collect my things and change out of the suit. I'd gone with the navy as planned. I gave her a call to let her know I was leaving and locked up. She'd left me a set of keys. She said to just keep them, but promised to make me drive the five hours in case she ever had an emergency. I had laughed at that, and put them on my key ring.

On Tuesday I finally finished sending letters and resumes to all of the schools in New Orleans. I felt pretty accomplished about that. Next step, wait for them to call me. The only call that I got on Tuesday was from Mrs. Park, asking if I could sub in the elementary school the following day. That was pretty uneventful. I had the momentous task of collecting some homeworks and doing a few pages in various workbooks with the same class all day long. The last hour turned into basically free play. They played hangman on the board and did word puzzles. I stopped at the garden centre on my way home and got some bulbs to plant and a new pair of gloves and a new trowel. I'd been out to the shed, finally. Most of Gran's old tools were rusting away, heavy old iron things that they were. Cleaning out in there would have to wait until I was fit and healthy again. Even the couple of hours that I spent hunched over in the garden on Thursday bordered on over-doing it.

The other crummy thing about that afternoon was that Anita Baker called to thank me for coming down to interview, but also to tell me that they'd decided to hire someone else. I let myself feel bad about it for an hour, and then I went ahead and I contacted my old boss with the Orleans Parish district schools and let her know that I was back and looking for immediate, full-time employment anywhere in middle or high schools. She said she'd call me if she heard anything. I'd been dragging my feet on that one, because a private school, where the students were of above-average eagerness to be in attendance, had seemed like a more rewarding prospect. Turns out I just wanted to teach, anywhere.

Friday was a much better day. I got a call in the wee hours, asking me to cover for a math teacher at the high school. She had come down with a bug overnight and was not going to get in. I phoned her and then drove over to her house to retrieve her lesson books and attendance sheets. She left me the keys to her desk, and said I could just store everything in there for the weekend and drop the keys at the office. The classes went by well, and I got two calls during the day inviting me for interviews in New Orleans next week, both at private schools. One was a very prestigious school, at that.

Hestia Academy is an all-girls Catholic school. It's one of the oldest schools in the country, period, let alone the state. Their faculty was mixed, men and women. I read in the overview on their website that while the girls all took theology courses each term as part of their required curriculum, the school believed in exposing the students to diversity, both within the student body and the faculty. Many Catholic schools may prefer, but certainly don't require, Catholic educators. Reading between the lines, I figured that to be the case here. There's a large Catholic faction here in Louisiana, but it's still second to the variations on the theme of Protestant. Myself, I'm a Baptist, and a spiritual person at that. The rest is just particulars, as Gran would have said. I hoped I'd be found suitable.

The second school, Bartle, is a four year prep school which seemed equally rigorous, if not near as well known as Hestia. It was co-ed and secular, and they were looking to replace a woman going out on maternity leave in six weeks. That one would be a challenge, because of course it would be on me to finish out the school year and get them through finals - having taught them nothing for the rest of the year. My interviews were set for Tuesday and Wednesday, which was not the most convenient thing, but Hestia was worth the inconvenience, if there was even the slightest chance. I called Amelia to ask if I could stay over again, though not the whole weekend. I'd come Monday Night and leave Wednesday again. She said it was perfectly fine, reminding me that she'd offered me to stay there all the time, yet again.

Eric called that night, and again on Saturday. I finally remembered to tell him about Tara and David Threadgill, but he seemed disinterested. I figured I had pegged it right, and it just lowered either of them further in his esteem. He'd wished me his sincere good luck for my coming week. I hoped I would have it.