Free Mystic Summer by Hannah McKinnon Page B

recovers quickly. “I think I just read something about that show in the Globe ,” he says.
    David’s date has still not recovered, however. “Wait. You mean the one with Angela Dune?” she shrieks.
    â€œYes, we work together,” Evan says, with a smile. “Angie’s great.”
    She elbows David. “He calls her Angie. Did you hear that, David?” A fact that I, too, make mental note of.
    I listen intently as Evan responds to the onslaught of questions that follow. The Merrills want to know about the show’s director. And Marion has questions about his character. They’re still firing away when the salad course is removed, and despite the fact his plate has not been touched, Evan answers each question politely, which only endears him to me more. Later, I slip my hand on Evan’s knee and give it a squeeze. “Am I doing okay?” he whispers.
    I kiss his cheek, not caring anymore what parents may say. “You are great. Period.”
    Sated with dinner and drinks, the guests spill onto the ballroom floor for dancing. I notice that the clipboards on the silent auction tables are filling up, and I’m happy. I only wish I had that kind of cash to bid.
    Evan returns from the bar with two gin and tonics. “Sorry that took so long. I had to check on an auction item,” he says.
    â€œYou’re my guest, you don’t need to bid on anything. Besides, these things go for crazy amounts.”
    â€œYeah, I’m sorry to say I couldn’t quite swing the Bali getaway.”
    I laugh. “What’s that one up to?”
    Evan smirks, pulling me onto the dance floor. “Not much. Just eleven grand.”
    We dance for a few songs until the music fades, and a parent I recognize as the head of the fund-raising committee, Bitsy Whitmore, approaches the podium in the front of the room. She sweeps her hair back and raises a glass of champagne.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen, please join us for my favorite portionof our evening. The live auction of classroom items is about to begin!”
    This portion of the night makes my stomach churn. As enticing as the silent auction prizes are, it’s always the crafty classroom items that garner the highest bids. It’s amazing what parents will pay for something that their children made. Enhanced greatly by the added competition with fellow parent bidders. And martinis.
    Sharon finds us standing in the back of the crowd. “This should be good. My bookshelf isn’t even finished.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? Your bookshelf looks great,” I tell her.
    â€œWell, they better not turn it around to the backside. We forgot to paint it!”
    I chuckle. Poor Sharon. The larger her belly grows, the smaller her ability to focus seems to become. “No one will notice.”
    She gives me a look. “Did you forget what happened last week?”
    I cringe. Last week Sharon sent the much-anticipated end-of-year reading assessments home with the wrong students. Scores, and all. Needless to say, that did not go unnoticed. “Look at it this way. At least the bookshelf isn’t filled with classified information.”

    The crowd presses tightly around the stage to get a better look. This year the second graders built birdhouses, which dazzle in a palette of rainbow colors. The third graders decorated a set of Adirondack chairs, which are clearly hand-painted. Complete with swirls, brushstrokes, and fingerprints, the overall effect is both amateur and adorable.
    I have to say, biased or not, our fourth-graders’ Harry Potter–themed bookshelves look pretty impressive. The largest items on the stage, they wow in both size and color. Like Sharon, I’m dismayed to see a small bald spot in the corner of my shelf that somehow got overlooked. But I’m glad that I took the extra time to help the kids outline the characters in black permanent marker to make them stand out. Even from where I’m