August 21.
“Jessica Swanson! It’s so wonderful to finally meet you! I
feel like we’ve known each other for ages since we’ve had so much back and
forth with your emails and phone calls.
This one’s thorough, I tell you--” Mason DeRae gestured towards me with his right thumb and spoke
out of the side of his mouth, although no one was actually in the hall but the
two of us.
He looked in person just the way he did on TV. He was in his
mid-sixties (well, 67. I had googled him), and wore his silver hair in short
spikes. In commercials he always had on white linen pants and a bright Hawaiian
short-sleeved button shirt, and evidently that’s the norm, because that’s what
he was wearing today, along with fancy man sandals with no socks.
Mason pulled me in for a big bear hug, and held on a bit too
long for my comfort level. He also was one of those back strokers—he rubbed his
hand up and down my spine during the forced embrace, as if he was hunting for a
bra strap. I felt immediately tense and on guard.
“Let’s show you around and get you situated, shall we? You
can put your stuff in my office.” Mason pointed a fat finger towards a dark
wood door on the other side of the front entry with the words “owner” etched in
the glass window.
“So let’s see. You have two little ones, right? Where they
at today?”
“I left them home with grandma. I wanted to get settled and
fill out paperwork today without distraction. I spoke to Donna, and we agreed
that they’ll begin sometime next week.”
“Excellent. Donna knows her stuff.” Mason jolted, and patted
down his pants. “Excuse me, my pants are talking.” He removed a tiny cell phone
from his back pocket, and unfolded it.
“DeRae here. Yes, let’s do that. Okay. On my way.”
“Jess? I’m going to need for you to stay here, and I’ll send
Donna down to show you around the school. I need to go to our McDonnell site.
We’ll catch up before the end of the day.”
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