The Woman Next Door Read Online Free PDF

might not for hours.
    Besides, lately it seemed that the only thing she and Graham were about was having a baby—and, oh, did she feel the pressure of that. He had done his part successfully, and more than once. Her body was the problem. Of course, he didn’t say that in as many words, but he didn’t need to. She felt his impatience.
    But what more could she do? She had followed Emily’s instructions to the letter—had eaten well, rested well, exercised in the most healthy and normal of ways, except for today. Loath to do anything that might bring on her period, she was moving as little as possible.
    It was nonsense, of course. Normal physical movement wouldn’t wreck a normal pregnancy. At this point, though, she was desperate. She hadn’t left her office since lunch, and though she might have liked to use the bathroom, she quelled the urge. As a diversionary measure, she sat back in the sofa, checked her watch, and thought about Quinn Davis. It was five-thirty She had told the boy she would be in her office until six, and so she would be.
    His notes unsettled her. They had come by e-mail, the first sent early that morning saying, “I need to talk to you, but it’s private. Is that okay?”
    “Private is definitely okay,” Amanda had written back. “What you say is between you and me. That’s the law. I’m free third period. Would that work?”
    He hadn’t shown up during third period, but another e-mail arrivedduring fourth. “Would my parents have to know that we met?”
    “No,” Amanda replied. “That’s part of the confidentiality rule. They wouldn’t know unless you sign a form saying it’s okay. I have a free half hour right after school, but if you have to be at baseball practice, we could make it later. I’ll stay until six. Will that work?”
    She hadn’t heard back. Nor had she heard footsteps in the hall to suggest that Quinn had come while Jordie was there, and she’d been listening. Something was up with Quinn. Her instincts told her so, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he approached her by e-mail. Many students did that, precisely because it was more private. She often suggested meeting times, often never heard back, and other than keeping an eye on the student or perhaps sending a follow-up note, there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t force the issue.
    But Quinn Davis wasn’t her usual case. He was a star. In addition to being sophomore class president, he was a peer counselor, high scorer of the varsity basketball team the past winter, and now he was the wunderkind of the baseball team. Two older brothers, both leaders at Woodley High, were currently at Princeton and West Point. Their parents were local activists, often in the papers, forever in Hartford lobbying for one cause or another.
    Amanda wondered if Quinn would show and, if so, what he would say. It could be that he wanted to tell Amanda about a student who needed help; part of the point of the peer leadership program was to identify problem students before they exploded. Student referrals were responsible for easily a third of the students she regularly saw. But she doubted that was the case here, with the student insisting on confidentiality from his own parents.
    Slipping off her shoes, Amanda folded her legs beside her. She was tired emotionally; that was a given. She was also physicallytired, though if she dared think that it might be the earliest sign of pregnancy, she got a nervous knot in her belly. In any event, she was grateful that her job allowed for casual dress. Allowed for? Demanded. The students had to perceive her as both professional and approachable, no mean feat for someone like Amanda, whose small size and wayward blond curls made her look more like she was twenty-five than thirty-five. The challenge was to appear more sophisticated, yet not formidable.
    Today’s outfit worked. It was a plum-colored blouse and pants, both in a soft rayon.
    A noise came from the hall—a muted sound