“You didn’t know that I used to go to school with your dad and your uncles?” said the dean of Grays Harbor Community College. He was bald on top, but he didn’t wear a tweed jacket. In fact, he wore a red and blue bowtie, a short-sleeved white dress shirt, and bifocals. He was built like a former boxer, stocky and not much taller than Becky.

“I didn’t know that,” she said. Her dad could have given her a heads up, she thought as she took in the name on the door, Todd Weatherly. She’d have to ask her dad about him when she got home.

Her phone dinged from her purse. Damn! She’d forgotten to turn off the ringer. “So sorry about that. Thought I turned this off,” she mumbled, reaching for her phone tucked in the outside pocket of her purse. She saw the text from Tom Campbell: Dinner 7 pm The Hirst. She pressed the side button on her iPhone to power it off and felt her cheeks warm. “So sorry about that,” she said again, as having Tom in her mind while she was sitting in the dean’s office to talk over her schooling wasn’t helping to keep her balanced.

He said nothing as he took a seat. The chair squeaked. It was one of the older, cheaper models, but she was positive a community college wouldn’t have anything high end. “No worries,” he said. “Listen, how about you telling me a little about you? Your uncle and I had a brief chat, and he indicated your interest in pursuing the Business Science program and some of the courses. I suggested setting you up with one of the tutors to help you get caught up. He thought it was a great idea and gave me the go ahead to arrange it.”

A tutor, seriously, in college? She opened her mouth, about to say no, not necessary, when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” the dean said. He glanced up and over.

“Mr. Weatherly?” replied a young man with dark hair, glasses. He was kind of geeky but good looking. She didn’t recognize him.

“Come in, Ian. This is Becky Friessen. She’ll be jumping into the business course. Her uncle thought she could use some tutoring in economics to help get her up to speed. Becky, Ian here is a third year and hires himself out as a tutor. Considering he’s on the honor roll, he’s a great choice.”

“Becky, nice to meet you.” Ian held his hand out, and she took it. His touch was warm.

“Ian, I can honestly say I didn’t expect this. My uncle has a way of arranging things. I was just told of you,” she added and took in the confusion and something else in Ian’s expression as he glanced over to the dean, who shook his head. Ian had a warm smile.

“Not surprising,” the dean said. “Neil Friessen always had a way of handling things, taking over, taking charge of everything, everyone. If you don’t want a tutor…” he started, but now she felt awkward, silly, and didn’t want to have anyone put out.

“Hey, I’ve been paid already and arranged my schedule.” Ian sounded annoyed, she thought, and she picked up that he wasn’t a pushover, either. “The first payment is non-refundable.”

“No, it’s fine,” Becky said. “I’m sure with you helping me, I’ll be caught up in no time. I thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Listen, we should exchange numbers, and that way I can let you know the times I’ve set aside for you. Do you know when you’re starting?” He was looking over to the dean as if they’d discussed something, as if he could provide the answers.

“Actually, we’re done here, so, Ian, if you don’t mind taking Becky to meet with the teachers, get the homework, you two can work out times and details. And, Becky, if you need anything or run into trouble, questions, anything, just pop in and see me. Door’s always open.”

Great, that was way too easy. She took that as her dismissal, and as she stood up and gathered her purse, Ian was already at the door.

“Oh, Becky, say hi to your dad for me,” the dean called out to her, and she took another look back.

“Yeah, sure,” she said before following Ian out. He was taller than she originally thought. He had a good build, not wimpy and average, and he was dressed neatly in black jeans and a black shirt with white stripes. His sleeves were rolled up, and she could see his forearms, which were strong and impressive. He pulled the outer door open, his hand high on it, and she ducked under, stepping out in the hall.

“So, third year, and you do tutoring, too,” she said, glancing over to him. There was a charm about him that was intriguing, the only word she could think of.

“Tutoring pays the bills,” he said, offering nothing else and gesturing to the stairs. She started down, and he fell in beside her, his sneakers squeaking on the tile.

“I don’t remember seeing you in the area,” she said. “Did you go to high school here?”

Dumb question. If he was in third year, he’d be three years ahead of her, but still.

“No, up in Olympia, but my parents aren’t wealthy. I got a scholarship, but with the ridiculous cost of university, I settled on community college. Grays Harbor is close enough to Olympia that I can go back often. The cost of living is way cheaper than in Seattle or one of the other big cities, too. Looked at a university up in Canada, Vancouver, just across the border, but that kind of went down the drain after I saw it’s one of the most unaffordable places to live in the world, and that’s if you can find a place, even though the university cost is that much lower. So I settled here.”

She wondered for a minute what he meant. Her parents had money, but they weren’t millionaires, though her dad could afford to send her anywhere. “So you live nearby?”

A smile touched his lips. It wasn’t bright, but she could see there was humor there. “Not far. I rent an apartment with another student. You?” he asked, and she wondered what he’d say.

“I live on a ranch, my parents’ ranch, outside town.”

“Nice,” he said, pulling his phone from his back pocket and tapping the screen as they walked down the hall. “So let me get your number, and that way I can text you and you can text me once you’ve finished enrollment. We’ll work out times to get you up to speed with your work—when, where, that kind of thing. What’s your number?”

She gave him her cell phone but skipped her home, since that was pointless.

“Great, and you’re here.” He gestured to the door that read Admissions. “Just give them your name, and they should have you in the computer. You’ll get your books, classes, and then…” He glanced up to her. “I just sent you a text so you’ll have mine.”

She reached in her purse, pulled out her phone, and turned it on. “Okay, so thank you, Ian…” she said, but he was walking away, hand raised in the air. Her phone beeped again, and she opened the text. Becky, nice to meet you. Plan for Friday at 3. Ian.

When she looked up again, he was gone, and there was a second message, this one from Tom. Don’t be late!