Discussion of Current Events

     "I don’t know where she’s been living, but the poor dear was nothing but skin and bones," Claire said as she poured the tea. Steam fogged her gold-rimmed glasses for a moment before she blew at the lenses, and her turquoise eyes were curious behind them. "She must have been living rough for a long time," she said, putting the cup of tea on the table.

     "And he let her stay?" Ross Evanoich’s voice was clearly incredulous as he pushed away the stack of student essays he’d been perusing. Peering at the tea, he glanced surrepitously at the sugar bowl, but it was too far away to make a sneaky reach for.

     "Could you have turned her away? Ishmael is…I mean… Mr. Garver is a kind man. He wasn’t about to turn the little thing onto the streets." Claire’s cheeks coloured faintly when Ross gave her a searching look, having caught the slip of the antique shop owner’s first name, and she hastily stirred her tea.

     "It’s not a matter of being hard-hearted, Claire. A little girl should go to the proper authorities, not be allowed to camp out at some old man’s store."

     "He’s not old!" Claire’s defensive snap made Ross lift an eyebrow. Pretending she didn’t see his expression, she flushed a bit and stirred her tea again. "I mean… She really didn’t want to leave. You could see that. I think he was afraid that if he said no, she’d run before he had a chance to call anyone."

     "Right," Ross said, wrinkling his nose at the tea’s bitter taste. "Or he likes little girls in all the wrong ways." At Claire’s utterly horrified expression, he waved his hand hastily, dismissing the comment as if he’d never made it. "Fine, fine. So he’s being nice. Shouldn’t you report it?"

     Claire frowned, peering into her cup. "…probably, but…" She glanced up, noting Ross’s elevating eyebrow, and hastened to explain. "Look…the system doesn’t care about the children it processes. Some of the people that work in the system care, but the establishment itself doesn’t, and the people stuck in it can’t work around all the laws. She seems like a very high-strung, delicate little girl. Could you imagine someone like that, someone with a lot of potential, being stuck in a crowded foster home? She’d bolt, and then heaven knows where she’d end up. I…well, it may not be legal, but I think she’s better off with Mr. Garver."

     Ross frowned a bit as he pushed his tea aside, reaching for the stack of essays. "Although I don’t like what you’re saying, I can’t call you wrong."

     She beamed, leaning over to touch his hand lightly, even as she slid the sugar bowl next to his teacup. "I know, and you’re a good man to say that. But she’ll be better off in a safe place that actually respects her temperment than in some overcrowded, stuffy house filled with people. Besides, Mr. Garver only has her best interests at heart." Claire ducked her head, hiding the pinking cheeks behind her chestnut hair, and hastily grabbed her own stack of tests. Ross eyed her as he stirred sugar into the dark liquid, and his murmur went unheard, quiet as it was.

     "…you hope he does, anyway."