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before class, Zae. I put you down for East Coast escapee, just like you wanted.”
    “Uh, thanks, Carole.” A blush rose in Zae’s cheeks, deepening her warm brown complexion. “See you at car pool tomorrow morning.”
    Alone in the locker room, Cinder crossed her arms over her chest. She glared at Zae.
    “We showed them,” Zae said proudly, clapping Cinder on the shoulder. “Let’s get your stuff put away. You don’t want to be late for your first lesson.”
    * * *
     
    “Can I get that for you, Mrs. Gale?” Gian tugged open the front door. With a hand at Adelaide Gale’s back, he tried to speed her exit from Sheng Li. “Is your hus band here?”
    “Oh, Louie went across the street for a cup of coffee while I was in class,” the elderly woman said. “He’s trying to conserve gas. He didn’t want to drive me here, drive home, come to pick me up again, and then drive home again. He’s so sensible, my Lou—”
    “Well, as long as he’s here for you,” Gian interrupted. “I’ll see you next Tuesday, Mrs. Gale.”
    Before Gian could close the door behind her, she turned. “I won’t be in class next week, Gianni,” she started, touching a craggy index finger to her chin.
    “ We’re having a potluck at the church to celebrate Reverend Mason’s retirement. I’m going to make banana split cake, the one I brought for Chip’s birthday, you remember? Everyone likes it so much that—”
    “Mrs. Gale,” Gian snapped louder than he meant to, startling her. “I’ve got a lesson now. I don’t mean to be rude, but . . .”
    “I understand,” she sighed. “I sometimes forget what it feels like to be young and in a hurry.”
    A pang of guilt stabbed at Gian, but he ignored it. At eighty-nine, Mrs. Dale was his oldest student. She had been one of the first to sign up for his taekwondo class eight years ago, when he’d first opened Sheng Li. Mrs. Gale had progressed no further than a yellow belt, but she always showed up on time and ready to work, which Gian respected. But right now he was so anxious to start his private lesson that he was ready to grab the old lady and toss her like a javelin across the street.
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. G.,” Gian said, forcing himself to mean it. “I hope you have a good time at your potluck, and I’ll tell Chip that you’ll be absent next week.”
    “Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Gale smiled. “Have a good lesson.”
    Gian closed the door and, after a cursory bow to the main studio, he trotted across it, down the corridor, and into his office. He paused a second to straighten his gi before he opened the door of the private studio.
    He bowed, his eyes never leaving his new student. She had been sitting cross-legged in the center of the mat, but she stood when he approached her. She bowed to him exactly as he’d shown her the day before. She straight ened, giving Gian a full view of her in her bright new gi .
    The stark white cotton contrasted beautifully with the dark richness of her skin. The fit was perfect, and she wore it correctly—the Sheng Li emblem was sewn on the left side, the left side of the jacket overlapped the right, and the drawstrings assuring that the garment would stay closed had been tightly tied. Her belt, the obi , was the only problem.
    She had followed the other rules of the dojo, which were posted in the locker room, so she wore no jewelry, cosmetics or polish on her fingers or toes. She had come to him unadorned, and so lovely that—
    He cleared his throat, stroking his chin to make sure that he wasn’t drooling. It was heavy lifting, but he forced himself to remember that she hadn’t come to him, not in the way he’d been thinking. She’d come to learn, to work, and it was best he never lose sight of that.
    Standing in front of her, Gian saw that she was more apprehensive than she had appeared the day before. The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered, and her rate of breathing seemed too rapid. “Are you okay?”
    “Just a little