Bayou Born (Fleur de Lis Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Faculty.
    She waited when Brian stayed glued to the spot beside her as if he intended to say something more. When he didn’t continue, she dropped her gaze to avoid his stare, observing his golf shirt with the college’s logo.
    “Well...is there...anything I need to know about, for the pot luck?” she finally asked.
    “Oh, let see. Lots of stuff. But I don’t want to frighten you off. We’re happy to have you join our ranks. You’re not the only first-timer here...” his voice trailed off. She followed his gaze and caught a glimpse of Dr. Brown, the Vice President, walking through the door.
    “The umbrellas are over there.” He pointed to where one wall of tinted glass met another to form a corner.
    “Excuse me, please?” Brian turned and went to greet Dr. Brown.
    She made her way to the corner and watched the storm raging outside. Would it rain like this before the Westcott’s party? If so, what would she wear? She feared meeting so many people in a short amount of time. Face after face with names she’d want to remember. It couldn’t be worse than being a human mannequin at a shop on Canal Street in New Orleans, could it?
    Would she finally meet the faculty member Dr. Brown assigned to mentor her? The evasive Dr. Newbern clearly had a busy schedule. He was a “no-show” at the luncheon. Would he consider his mentoring duties akin to babysitting?
    She pictured an older man in a tweed jacket with suede patches on the elbows. Dr. Brown hadn’t said much about her mentor, except that he was very qualified, a student favorite, and very trustworthy. With that recommendation, she vowed to keep any interaction with the man strictly professional and necessary. No wasting his time. She was a quick study when she enjoyed her work. Maybe one day, Dr. Brown would make similar glowing remarks about her.
    Nearby, a rack of blue-denim shirts with the school’s logo on the front pocket stood ready for the on-slot of students arriving on Monday. Maybe one of those shirts would work with black jeans. Picking one up, she laid it across her arm. Where did Brian say she would find umbrellas?
    “Hi. Brian sent me over. Do you need help?”
    The young woman’s pink and green-tipped hair fascinated Branna. Self-expression had always been discouraged by her mother. “Respectable” was the family hallmark for the Keeper.
    “Thanks, I’m good. I’ll hunt around while I’m waiting for the storm to rain itself out.”
    “Cool. But the umbrellas are over here.” The young woman walked to a spot and pointed down.
    Branna discovered the umbrellas tucked beside a tall bookcase. The selection ranged in size from long golf ones to the micro version, small enough to fit inside a backpack. Just the size she wanted. “This one will do.”
    “I’ll carry it up front, and it’ll be waiting for you. Give me the shirt, too. Take your time. I don’t have anything else to do. Happy to help.”
    “Thank you.”
    Branna paused by a shelf of folded cotton-knit jackets. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers. Softness. Setting her purse down, she unzipped the garment and tried it on.
    Ah...warm.
    Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? She would wear it home.
    She picked up her purse and glanced outside at the Commons, the park-like area bordered by the college’s buildings. On the opposite end from the bookstore was the parking lot, though due to the darkness and deluge, it remained invisible. Safe and protected inside the store, she watched the ferocity of the storm. Streetlights around campus glowed eerily, though it was only afternoon.
    Out of the corner of her eye, something white moved in the downpour. She stepped closer to the window. With condensation covering it, the view appeared like a wet-on-wet watercolor painting.
    In the rain, a brave soul eased his way along the sidewalk in front of the bookstore under the building’s eaves. The man appeared in no particular hurry. A small black umbrella protected him from the