Having gotten her complaint out of her system, Debbie abruptly changed the subject. "I talked to Nanette Finch yesterday," she said, looking at Jane as she mentioned the recently retired high-school drama teacher.

   "His is her husband?" Jane inquired politely.

   "Still Very weak from his chemotherapy treatments, I'm afraid, but Nanette said she thought he was feeling a bit better. She's confident she made the right decision in retiring."

   "I'm sure she did."

   "I'm so glad you were available to take her place. The students are thrilled to have a real theater veteran teaching them."

   "I enjoy working with young actors," Jane responded. "They're so eager and energetic. And some of them are quite talented."

   "What does talent have to do with casting an Honoria High School production?" Sally asked dryly. "Mrs. Finch always gave the lead roles to the students from the most prominent local families, regardless of whether they could act or sing."

   Debbie friends. "That's not a very kind thing to say, Sally."

   "But it's true, Aunt Debbie. I saw the performance of West Side Story last fall, remember? Mayor McDougal's strawberry-blond, freckled daughter Connie played Maria. No way she look Puerto Rican—and the poor girl couldn't act her way out of a paper bag."

   "Couldn't sing with a flip, either," Colton muttered. "Sounds like a cat with its tail caught in a wringer. It was all I could do to sit through the whole show—and that was only because Debbie had a death grip on my arm to keep me from leaving."

   "Mrs. Finch cast the popular, socially prominent kids back when I was in high school," Tyler agreed bluntly. "Everyone always knew who would have the best roles—and they were rarely the best qualified."

   Jane nodded somberly. "You never saw me hold the lead role at good ol' HHS, did you?"

   Tyler thought he heard a touch of old resentment in her voice.

   "I was always luck to get a few lines," she continued, "even though Mrs. Finch told me several times that she thought I had real talent."

   Dave, who'd moved to Honoria only a couple of years earlier, looked startled. "If she thought you had talent, how did she justify not giving you better roles?"

   Jane shrugged, and Tyler suspected there was a world of emotion hidden behind her matter-of-fact tone. "She said she would face too much controversy if she tried to buck the established system. She was afraid it would cut into her contributions and jeopardize her ability to fund her productions. She knew my folks wouldn't put up a fuss if I was slighted—unlike, say, the O'Neals or some of the other local society leaders."

   Dave scowled. "Sounds like it was long past time for her to retire."

   "She did the best she could," Debbie said in defense of her colleague. "You know how difficult it can be to challenge the established order, Dave. You've had your share of criticism because you refuse to look the other way when some of the richer folks bend a few laws."

   "The laws aren't different for people with money that they are for people without," Dave said flatly.

   Sally looked speculatively at Jane. "I hear you're planning to do Grease in the spring. You know Connie McDougal's going to demand the role of Sandy."

   "None if my students will 'demand' a role—they'll audition," Jane asserted. "If they're good, they'll get a part. If they show potential, I'll work with them until they're ready. If they show no glimmer of talent, I'll let them be extras, or assign them other responsibilities. There are lot of interesting jobs in theater besides acting—lighting, set design. And construction, sound, publicity, costumes, stage management."

   "You'd make Connie McDougal an extra?" Wide-eyed, sally shook her head. "Her mother will be at the school to try to get you fired before you can say, 'Cut!'"

   Tyler notes that Jane didn't look notably intimidated. "I've spent seven years working in New York. I can handle Charlene McDougal."

   Sally made a balancing gesture with her hands "A city full of Nee Yorkers," she said, lowering one hand. "Charlene McDougal," she continued, lowering the other. After considering it a moment, she shook her head wryly. "It's a close call, which is actually scarier."

   "I'm sure Jane can handle herself," Tyler commented.

   The quick look she shot him expressed her appreciation—and perhaps a touch of surprise?

   "I'm going to kindergarten," Tom announced to Jane.

   "In the fall, you mean?" She asked encouragingly.

   He nodded.

   "Are you excited?"

   "I'm sort of scared," the boy admitted.

   Tyler was a bit surprised. Tom didn't often share his feelings, especially with people he didn't know well. But he didn't usually take to new people as quickly as he had to Jane, either.

   "Don't be scared about school," Jane encouraged. "For the most part, school is fun. Why else would I want to go back as a teacher?"

   "Will you be my teacher?"

   Jane smiles and smoothed Tom's fair hair. "Not for a few years yet, Tommy. But whoever you get for a teacher, I'm sure you'll have a great year."

   Tyler watched in resignation as his son fell a little deeper in love.