Cover-Up. Ruth Langan

that he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it. My grandmother will be so happy.”

      “Not to mention a few hundred people here tonight who see him as their savior.” Libby glanced around as the crowd continued to grow. “It’s strange having so many unfamiliar faces in town. Where did they all come from?”

      Emily squeezed her hand. “Isn’t it a wonderful tribute to my grandmother that so many of her former students returned just to honor her?” She looked up. “Speaking of which, I just spotted our guest of honor arriving. I promised I’d escort her into the ballroom and see her to her table. I don’t want her to be alone for even a minute.”

      Minutes later, as she linked her arm through her grandmother’s, it occurred to Emily that her worries had been groundless. Her grandmother may have decided to stop teaching, but her mind and her eyesight were as sharp as ever. Even without the name tags, their former teacher seemed to know the name of every person who walked up to her. It was obvious from the way Bert greeted them that she’d kept up with their lives. In many instances she knew where they lived and how they earned their living, as well as the names of their spouses and the numbers of their children.

      Emily snagged a waiter and asked him to fetch their guest of honor a cup of tea after Bert rejected the suggestion of champagne. “I want to have a clear head tonight,” her grandmother said in an aside. “I’ll have my champagne later, when Frank and I are alone.”

      Emily was just turning back when she felt a hand at her shoulder and looked up to see the high-school custodian Albert Sneed. The mere touch of him put her on edge. Even when Emily had been a student, there had been something about Albert that had put her off. To the other students he’d seemed friendly enough, with silly jokes and a cackling laugh. But she’d never been able to warm to him. Even after all these years, she found herself thinking that his eyes seemed a little too hard, his manner a little too sly.

      “Thought I’d offer my best to Mrs. B.”

      She managed a smile. “That’s nice, Albert. She’ll appreciate the fact that you came to see her.”

      “It’s fun seeing all the old faces, Doc. So many of you pretty girls grew up to be pretty women.”

      Before she could reply she felt a hand on her arm and looked over to see Prentice smiling down at her. “Hello, Prentice. How’s Will feeling?”

      “Much better, thanks to you. I’d like to show my appreciation. Can I get you a drink?”

      “No, thanks. I have some things to see to.”

      “Okay. Maybe later. Thanks again, Emily. It’s always nice to get Will calmed down.”

      “You’re welcome.” Emily took a step back. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get to the stage to introduce our guest of honor. I hope,” she added, “you won’t mind saying a few words to the assembled.”

      “If you’d like.”

      “I would.”

      “Then consider it done.”

      She started toward the stage before she realized that in the confusion, Albert was gone. She could have hugged Prentice for his timely distraction.

      Emily sat beside her grandmother while former pupils offered their words of praise. First on the stage was Robeson Ryder. A skilled orator whose father had been a projectionist at the local movie theatre, Robeson’s words stirred the audience as he talked about the teacher who had helped shape his ideals, and how those ideals had now taken him to a very public arena. He was a man who had dined with presidents and kings, but retained a sense of humility that was appealing. He had an amazing presence, handsome and proud without a trace of arrogance. His voice was a deep rich baritone that could move the crowd to tears or to cheers.

      By the time he turned the stage over to Prentice Osborn, Robeson Ryder had the audience on its feet cheering him.

      Prentice was no slouch at working the crowd, either. He had them laughing, nodding in agreement and applauding as he told funny stories about himself and his days as a pupil of Mrs. Alberta Brennan. Even his old teacher laughed aloud.

      When he was finished Emily strode to the microphone. “Thank you, Robeson, Prentice. Our little town is privileged to have two such famous sons.”

      From her position on stage she caught sight of a figure at the back of the room. For the space of a heartbeat the crowd seemed to melt away. All she could see was that face from the past. A strong chiseled jaw and lean handsome features. Those dark poet’s eyes meeting hers and holding her gaze when she tried to look away.

      She had to swallow before she could go on. “We have another celebrity in our midst. I wonder if Jason Cooper, bestselling author, would care to say a few words about his former teacher.”

      It seemed, to Emily’s ears, that there was a collective sigh sweeping through the room as the tall figure clad in a dark suit made his way to the stage, though there were a few, she noted, who hissed with annoyance. His book had stirred up strong feelings both of admiration and resentment in their town.

      Jason didn’t so much walk as stalk, glancing neither right nor left as the crowd seemed to part for him.

      Emily set the microphone on the stand and moved to the far side of the stage, folding her hands together and hoping she didn’t appear to be watching too closely as Jason Cooper climbed the stairs and paused center stage.

      True to form, he seemed abrupt, edgy, as he picked up the microphone and said, “I came here to honor Mrs. Brennan, who saw something in me all those years ago that I hadn’t even seen in myself.” He turned away from the crowd and stared at the old woman who was watching him so avidly. “Whatever success I enjoy, Mrs. B, it’s because of you. You changed my life, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful.”

      He set the microphone back on its stand and strode down the steps, pausing beside his old teacher to press a kiss to her cheek.

      Bert was beaming with pride. As Jason walked away, Emily thought she saw her grandmother wipe a tear from her eye.

      She stepped to the microphone. “My grandmother has asked me to thank all of you for coming tonight. We hope you can stay for our week-long celebration, which will include a garden luncheon sponsored by the alumni association, an original play entitled An Orchid for Mrs. B, sponsored by the high school, and a chance for individual visits with her throughout the week. Our celebration will culminate in a banquet and fireworks next weekend.”