Butter Pecan 16, Strawberry 12
Author: Marina
Story: Shifts universe (post-Shifts)
Challenge: Butter Pecan 16 (wet), Strawberry 12 (wheel)
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Sprinkles, Malt (pfah - wheel : Oriana : help is on the way)
Word Count: 1,367
Rating: PG
Summary: Oriana meets Dr. Charles Brightman.
Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day Saturday! This post is brought to you by insomnia and the dust population of my house.
“Oriana? Are you done with the paints?”
“Just about!” Oriana placed the last of the cans on the shelf just above her head. “There. What can I do for you, Shari?”
Shari Pitts poked her head into the supply room and offered Oriana an apologetic smile. “Connor’s father still hasn’t come and I need to go. I don’t suppose you could stay with him.”
“I’ve got time. Go right ahead and enjoy your weekend.”
“I’ll do my best.” The harried theater arts teacher disappeared. Oriana tucked one of her curls behind her ear and made haste to follow-her brother would not be pleased if Connor waited alone for even a split second. Eleazar was very conscientious about safety and insurance issues. She supposed that his concern helped to make him a good headmaster, but sometimes, listening to him rattle on about it, she just wanted to flick him in the arm and walk away.
She reached the front hall in time to wave as Shari hustled her five-year-old daughter out into the rain. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat, she turned to Connor. “Do you have any exciting plans for the weekend?” she asked.
Connor Brightman was a sixth-grader with a slight frame, freckles, and a blonde cowlick-one of few that Oriana knew by name after two weeks volunteering at the school. In response to her question, he produced a shy smile. “Not really. Just hanging out with my dad.”
“Oh, I bet that’ll be fun. Too bad about the rain, though. It’s supposed to go all weekend.”
“I like rain,” he said.
Oriana grinned. “So do I. Well, actually, I mostly like puddles.”
“I like it when you drive through them and they make a big wave,” said Connor. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Dad says you shouldn’t do that cause it’s bad for the car, but sometimes he does it when there’s a big one just for fun.”
“That’s nice of him.”
He nodded emphatically. “Mom doesn’t, though. She says our car’s already old and she doesn’t want to mess it up.”
“Probably best to avoid the puddles, then.” The mention of his mother sparked a small bit of recognition in Oriana’s mind, but she could not quite pin it. “What do your parents do? For their jobs, that is.”
“Dad’s a doctor,” said Connor. “Mom cuts hair. She owns the store she works at, actually. What do yours do?”
She felt her pleasant expression slip just a little. “My family used to own a private business, but we sold it after my parents died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. It was a long time ago.” I was only five years older than you when Father went, she added silently. Clearing her throat, she grabbed blindly for a different topic. “How long have you been doing drama?”
His eyes lit up in interest-and, she thought, a little relief. “Just since last year. Mom let me do two plays with the rec center.”
“Wow,” said Oriana. “Which ones?”
“The Wizard of Oz and Music Man.”
“Those are two of my favorites. I was Dorothy in Wizard of Oz when I took drama in middle school.”
“I was a tree,” said Connor. “One of the ones that throw the apples at her. And a Winkie.”
“You got to do the really fun bits, then.” She remembered the angry trees from her own run and couldn’t help a chuckle. “Our trees threw the apples too hard a couple of times because they were really excited about it. One of them fell into the orchestra pit and landed in the tuba.”
He gratified her with a laugh. “Did anyone get hurt?”
“No, but it took some work to get the apple out. On opening night the tuba player brought in an umbrella as a joke.”
“That’s funny!” He swung his legs and glanced at the glass doors, an apprehensive expression filtering onto his face.
“Do you want to call your parents?” Oriana asked. “You can borrow my cell phone.”
Connor shook his head. “Dad’s probably almost here. I think he had an appointment run late or something. Are we gonna have a live band for the play?”
“Mrs. Pitts would like to. We’ll have a piano, at least.”
“That’s good. Do you know when we’re going to find out who got cast?”
“I’d guess Monday. You auditioned for Bert, right?”
“Right.”
She conjured up an encouraging grin. “I really liked your audition. You did a great job with the Cockney accent.”
He brightened a little. “Thanks! It was easy, mostly.”
“You sure made it sound like it was.”
The slam of a car door captured their attention, and Oriana looked over her shoulder toward the doors. A blue sedan with the brights on stood patiently in the turnaround driveway while a tall man in a khaki trenchcoat ran up to the building, unfolding an umbrella as he went. “Dad!” Connor cried, leaping off his bench. He held the door open for his father and then snatched him in a hug.
Dr. Brightman laughed and returned the embrace with the arm not holding the umbrella. “Hey, kiddo. Good to see you, too.” His eyes flicked up to Oriana, who watched the scene with a smile. “Hello, are you Mrs. Pitts?”
“No, she had to run.” She removed her right hand from her coat pocket and offered it to him as she stepped forward. “Oriana Kopen. I’m helping out with the play.”
“Charles Brightman. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, keeping hold of it while he studied her. “Kopen, you said?”
She grimaced. “Yes, I’m Dr. Kopen’s sister.”
“Gotcha. I’m so sorry to keep you, the traffic was bad on the freeway. Terrible accident.”
“That’s fine,” she said quickly. “It’s better to drive safe. Connor and I had a nice chat.” She exchanged a quick smile with the boy. “He did very well in auditions this week.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” said Dr. Brightman. “Thanks so much for staying with him.” He glanced down at his son. “Are you ready to go, Con?”
“Yep!” Connor shouldered his backpack and picked up a tote bag stuffed to the brim. Oriana tried not to let her curiosity show on her face. “See you Monday, Miss Kopen!” he called to her.
She lifted her hand in salute. “Have a good weekend, Connor.”
The Brightmans splashed out to their car, and she waited until they had Connor’s bags loaded to collect her purse and walk to the main office. At ten to six, it was quiet except for the faint taps wafting through her brother’s doorway.
Oriana leaned partially into the room. “Almost done, Professor Xavier?”
“Almost.” Eleazar typed out another sentence or two and then reached for the mouse to save his document. “How was theater today?”
“It’s going well. I helped with the singing auditions and organized the supply room.”
“Good.” Leaning back in his chair, he swiveled so he could look at her, his unspoken concerns written all over his face. “I’m glad you agreed to help Mrs. Pitts. She’s starting this program from scratch and I know it means a lot to her to have some assistance.”
Oriana grinned. “I’m glad you mentioned it. It’s nice work and I don’t have to do the teaching part.”
He nodded, and his worry lines eased a little. “I hoped you’d think that. Have you called the car?”
“No, but I will while you finish up.”
“That sounds fine.” He turned back to the computer.
She reached into her purse for her cell phone, but did not make the call. After a moment, she decided to just ask. “Elie?”
“Hmm?”
“Are Connor Brightman’s parents divorced?”
Eleazar’s eyes darted up to her. “Yes, why?”
Oriana shrugged. “I thought they might be but I wasn’t sure. He was the last to leave today. We talked for a bit.”
“Ah.”
She lifted her shoulders again and began to dial. “Also,” she added, shooting him a smirk as she lifted the phone to her ear. “It still feels really weird to refer to you as Dr. Kopen. Just so you know.”
He snorted and shook his head. “You can be so immature.”
Story: Shifts universe (post-Shifts)
Challenge: Butter Pecan 16 (wet), Strawberry 12 (wheel)
Toppings/Extras: Caramel, Sprinkles, Malt (pfah - wheel : Oriana : help is on the way)
Word Count: 1,367
Rating: PG
Summary: Oriana meets Dr. Charles Brightman.
Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day Saturday! This post is brought to you by insomnia and the dust population of my house.
“Oriana? Are you done with the paints?”
“Just about!” Oriana placed the last of the cans on the shelf just above her head. “There. What can I do for you, Shari?”
Shari Pitts poked her head into the supply room and offered Oriana an apologetic smile. “Connor’s father still hasn’t come and I need to go. I don’t suppose you could stay with him.”
“I’ve got time. Go right ahead and enjoy your weekend.”
“I’ll do my best.” The harried theater arts teacher disappeared. Oriana tucked one of her curls behind her ear and made haste to follow-her brother would not be pleased if Connor waited alone for even a split second. Eleazar was very conscientious about safety and insurance issues. She supposed that his concern helped to make him a good headmaster, but sometimes, listening to him rattle on about it, she just wanted to flick him in the arm and walk away.
She reached the front hall in time to wave as Shari hustled her five-year-old daughter out into the rain. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat, she turned to Connor. “Do you have any exciting plans for the weekend?” she asked.
Connor Brightman was a sixth-grader with a slight frame, freckles, and a blonde cowlick-one of few that Oriana knew by name after two weeks volunteering at the school. In response to her question, he produced a shy smile. “Not really. Just hanging out with my dad.”
“Oh, I bet that’ll be fun. Too bad about the rain, though. It’s supposed to go all weekend.”
“I like rain,” he said.
Oriana grinned. “So do I. Well, actually, I mostly like puddles.”
“I like it when you drive through them and they make a big wave,” said Connor. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Dad says you shouldn’t do that cause it’s bad for the car, but sometimes he does it when there’s a big one just for fun.”
“That’s nice of him.”
He nodded emphatically. “Mom doesn’t, though. She says our car’s already old and she doesn’t want to mess it up.”
“Probably best to avoid the puddles, then.” The mention of his mother sparked a small bit of recognition in Oriana’s mind, but she could not quite pin it. “What do your parents do? For their jobs, that is.”
“Dad’s a doctor,” said Connor. “Mom cuts hair. She owns the store she works at, actually. What do yours do?”
She felt her pleasant expression slip just a little. “My family used to own a private business, but we sold it after my parents died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. It was a long time ago.” I was only five years older than you when Father went, she added silently. Clearing her throat, she grabbed blindly for a different topic. “How long have you been doing drama?”
His eyes lit up in interest-and, she thought, a little relief. “Just since last year. Mom let me do two plays with the rec center.”
“Wow,” said Oriana. “Which ones?”
“The Wizard of Oz and Music Man.”
“Those are two of my favorites. I was Dorothy in Wizard of Oz when I took drama in middle school.”
“I was a tree,” said Connor. “One of the ones that throw the apples at her. And a Winkie.”
“You got to do the really fun bits, then.” She remembered the angry trees from her own run and couldn’t help a chuckle. “Our trees threw the apples too hard a couple of times because they were really excited about it. One of them fell into the orchestra pit and landed in the tuba.”
He gratified her with a laugh. “Did anyone get hurt?”
“No, but it took some work to get the apple out. On opening night the tuba player brought in an umbrella as a joke.”
“That’s funny!” He swung his legs and glanced at the glass doors, an apprehensive expression filtering onto his face.
“Do you want to call your parents?” Oriana asked. “You can borrow my cell phone.”
Connor shook his head. “Dad’s probably almost here. I think he had an appointment run late or something. Are we gonna have a live band for the play?”
“Mrs. Pitts would like to. We’ll have a piano, at least.”
“That’s good. Do you know when we’re going to find out who got cast?”
“I’d guess Monday. You auditioned for Bert, right?”
“Right.”
She conjured up an encouraging grin. “I really liked your audition. You did a great job with the Cockney accent.”
He brightened a little. “Thanks! It was easy, mostly.”
“You sure made it sound like it was.”
The slam of a car door captured their attention, and Oriana looked over her shoulder toward the doors. A blue sedan with the brights on stood patiently in the turnaround driveway while a tall man in a khaki trenchcoat ran up to the building, unfolding an umbrella as he went. “Dad!” Connor cried, leaping off his bench. He held the door open for his father and then snatched him in a hug.
Dr. Brightman laughed and returned the embrace with the arm not holding the umbrella. “Hey, kiddo. Good to see you, too.” His eyes flicked up to Oriana, who watched the scene with a smile. “Hello, are you Mrs. Pitts?”
“No, she had to run.” She removed her right hand from her coat pocket and offered it to him as she stepped forward. “Oriana Kopen. I’m helping out with the play.”
“Charles Brightman. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, keeping hold of it while he studied her. “Kopen, you said?”
She grimaced. “Yes, I’m Dr. Kopen’s sister.”
“Gotcha. I’m so sorry to keep you, the traffic was bad on the freeway. Terrible accident.”
“That’s fine,” she said quickly. “It’s better to drive safe. Connor and I had a nice chat.” She exchanged a quick smile with the boy. “He did very well in auditions this week.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” said Dr. Brightman. “Thanks so much for staying with him.” He glanced down at his son. “Are you ready to go, Con?”
“Yep!” Connor shouldered his backpack and picked up a tote bag stuffed to the brim. Oriana tried not to let her curiosity show on her face. “See you Monday, Miss Kopen!” he called to her.
She lifted her hand in salute. “Have a good weekend, Connor.”
The Brightmans splashed out to their car, and she waited until they had Connor’s bags loaded to collect her purse and walk to the main office. At ten to six, it was quiet except for the faint taps wafting through her brother’s doorway.
Oriana leaned partially into the room. “Almost done, Professor Xavier?”
“Almost.” Eleazar typed out another sentence or two and then reached for the mouse to save his document. “How was theater today?”
“It’s going well. I helped with the singing auditions and organized the supply room.”
“Good.” Leaning back in his chair, he swiveled so he could look at her, his unspoken concerns written all over his face. “I’m glad you agreed to help Mrs. Pitts. She’s starting this program from scratch and I know it means a lot to her to have some assistance.”
Oriana grinned. “I’m glad you mentioned it. It’s nice work and I don’t have to do the teaching part.”
He nodded, and his worry lines eased a little. “I hoped you’d think that. Have you called the car?”
“No, but I will while you finish up.”
“That sounds fine.” He turned back to the computer.
She reached into her purse for her cell phone, but did not make the call. After a moment, she decided to just ask. “Elie?”
“Hmm?”
“Are Connor Brightman’s parents divorced?”
Eleazar’s eyes darted up to her. “Yes, why?”
Oriana shrugged. “I thought they might be but I wasn’t sure. He was the last to leave today. We talked for a bit.”
“Ah.”
She lifted her shoulders again and began to dial. “Also,” she added, shooting him a smirk as she lifted the phone to her ear. “It still feels really weird to refer to you as Dr. Kopen. Just so you know.”
He snorted and shook his head. “You can be so immature.”