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And while tackling the living situation problem she was facing probably fell into the category of butting in and trying to save her, I couldn’t just walk away.
I parked in the learning center lot and looked around. There were a handful of cars, but not as many as I’d expected for a Wednesday afternoon. I pushed open the door and climbed out, hunching my shoulders against the cold breeze that whipped across the parking area. Winter—or at least fall—was finally making itself known. Maybe I should’ve grabbed my jacket off the passenger seat, but I shut the car door and hurried toward the main entrance.
I wasn’t likely to freeze before I got there.
“Can I help you, sir?”
I smiled at the security guard. “I was hoping to speak to Austin Campbell. I’m a friend. Cody Miller.”
“One moment.” The guard looked down at the desk. Maybe he was checking an allowed list? Or texting Austin? Who knew. I could speculate all day, though, and have a good time doing it.
He looked up. “He’s up in the art room on two. There are stairs or you can use the elevator down the hall. You’ll need this.”
I took the lanyard the guard offered and looped it around my neck before heading to the stairs. The subtle sneer in the guard’s voice when he’d mentioned the elevator had been enough to convince me I’d never use that option in his presence unless I was visibly injured. Not that I was liable to be at the learning center often. Tutoring wasn’t my thing—unless it was on the receiving side.
There were signs at the top of the stairs pointing toward various departments and rooms. I scanned for the art room and headed in that direction.
Murmured conversation drifted out into the hallway as I passed classrooms and what were probably offices on my way to a big, open space full of light. I peeked in the door.
“I just think—” The woman speaking broke off and shot me a polite smile. “Can I help you?”
“I was looking for Austin. The security guy said I’d find him here.”
Austin glanced over. “Hey, man. Can you give me five? You can sit in my office if you want.”
“Okay.” I lifted my eyebrows. “Where’s that?”
Austin laughed and told me the room number.
I tapped my forehead with two fingers in a mock salute before stepping back into the hall to look above the art room door. It started with a two. So did Austin’s office number. So it was probably on this floor.
I retraced my steps to the stairs and studied the signs again before heading in the opposite direction. I only got turned around once before finding an office with Austin’s name in big letters on a plaque beside it.
It was strange going in without him there, but the door had been open. So I took a seat at the small round table that filled the corner of Austin’s office and let my gaze wander around the room.
I was finishing a sudoku on my phone when Austin came in, and shut the door behind him.
“Sorry. That was more than five. I love having an art program. I think it’s fantastic to be able to provide that extracurricular that kids can’t always work into their schedules for credit, but I just don’t know about having a gallery night at the end of the semester.”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Seriously? You’re on her side?”
“You’re not?” I shook my head. “These kids are working hard and producing something they can show off. Why wouldn’t you let them? In fact, you ought to talk to the artists at the Torpedo Factory and see if any of them wanted to have a mini-showing here as part of it. That’d help the kids feel even more legit, and maybe strike up opportunities for mentorship with professional artists, and it could be a community event that would drum up interest and support for the center.”
Austin stared at me.
“What?”
“When did you become an event planner?”
I laughed. “This fall. Got thrust on me, but I find I kind of like it. Don’t tell Mr. Ballentine, though. I don’t actually want to only do fundraisers as my job.”
Austin grinned and held up a finger. “One condition.”
“Name it.”
“You help us with our events.”
