ANNING’S GRADUATION was the same day as Natalie’s rehearsal dinner. Classes had ended a week after Gettysburg, and I gave everyone except Kerry Blake an A+ for their participation. Kerry got a C, bringing her final mark to a dreaded B-and resulting in seven phone calls to the school from her enraged parents. As his final act as chairman of the history department, Dr. Eckhart upheld my grade. I would really miss that man.

The hall echoed as I made my way down to my classroom, which I’d spent yesterday cleaning. For the summer program in August, I’d be teaching a class on the American Revolution, but for the next two months, I wouldn’t be here. The familiar end of term lump came to my throat

Looking around the room, I smiled at the sight of the picture, which Mallory had not only given me, but matted and framed, bless her heart. My seniors, my First Cavalry. I would never see most of those kids again. Maybe a few e-mails from some of my favorites for the next six months or so, but most of them would leave Manning and not return for years, if ever. But I planned on making a battle reenactment a permanent requirement for my class.

My gaze wandered to the huge copy of the Gettysburg Address, another of the Declaration of Independence, which I read aloud on the first day of school, in every class, every year. And in my continual effort to get the kids to feel a connection to our country’s history, I’d shamelessly covered the walls with movie posters. Glory. Saving Private Ryan. Mississippi Burning. The Patriot, Full Metal Jacket, Flags of Our Fathers. And on the back of the door, Gone With the Wind, tawdry enough that I felt it should be hidden from direct view. Scarlett’s bosom was scandalously exposed, and Rhett’s eyes bored into hers. Now that I’d seen the movie, I loved that poster more than ever.

The lump in my throat grew. Luckily, I was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. “Come in,” I called. It was Dr. Eckhart.

“Good morning, Grace,” he said, leaning on his cane.

“Hello, Dr. Eckhart.” I smiled. “How are you?”

“A bit sentimental today, Grace, a bit sentimental. My last Manning graduation.”

“It won’t be the same without you, sir,” I said.

“No,” he agreed.

“I hope we can still meet for dinner,” I said sincerely.

“Of course, my dear,” he said. “And I’m sorry you didn’t make chairman.”

“Well. Sounds like they picked a winner.”

The new department chair was someone named Louise Steiner. She came to Manning from a prep school in Los Angeles, had significantly more administrative experience under her belt than either Ava or I and held a doctorate in European history and a master’s in American. In short, she’d kicked our butts.

Ava had been furious enough to break up with Theo Eisenbraun, Kiki told me. Ava was actively interviewing at other prep schools, but I didn’t really think she’d leave. Too much work, and Ava never was much of a worker.

“Will you be going to Pennsylvania this year?” Dr. Eckhart asked. “Or any other battle sites?”

“No,” I answered. “I’m moving this summer, so no travel for me.” I hugged the old man gently. “Thank you for everything, Dr. Eckhart. I’ll really miss you.”

“Well,” he harrumphed, patting my shoulder. “No need to get emotional.”

“Hello? Oh, damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Both Dr. Eckhart and I looked up. An attractive woman in her fifties with short gray hair and a classy linen suit stood in my doorway. “Hi, I’m Louise. Hello, Dr. Eckhart, nice to see you again. Grace, isn’t it?”

“Hi,” I said, going over to shake the hand of my new boss. “Welcome to Manning. We were just talking about you.”

“I wanted to meet you, Grace, and talk about a few things. Dr. Eckhart showed me a copy of your presentation, and I loved the curriculum changes you came up with.”

“Thank you,” I said, shooting a look at Dr. E., who was examining his yellowed fingernails.

“Maybe we can have lunch next week, talk about things,” Louise suggested.

I smiled at Dr. Eckhart, then looked back at Louise. “I’d love to,” I said sincerely.

WHEN THE CAPS had been thrown and the children celebrated the accomplishment of not having flunked out, when the graduation brunch was over, I made my way back to the parking lot. I had about two hours to shower, change and head on over to Soleil, the site of my faked date with Wyatt Dunn and where Natalie’s rehearsal dinner would take place.

“Another school year gone,” said a familiar voice.

I turned. “Hi, Stuart.” He looked…older. Grayer. Sadder.

“I hope you have a nice summer,” he said politely, looking at a particularly beautiful pink dogwood.

“Thanks,” I murmured.

“How’s…how’s Margaret?” His gaze flickered to mine.

I sighed. “She’s tense, jealous and difficult. Miss her?”

“Yes.”

I looked at his sorrowful face for a beat or two. “Stuart,” I asked quietly, “did you have an affair with Ava?”

“With that piranha?” he asked, looking shocked. “Goodness, no. We had dinner. Once. All I talked about was Margaret.”

What the heck. I decided to throw him a bone. “We’ll be at Soleil in Glastonbury, Stu. Tonight. Reservations are for seven-thirty. Be spontaneous.”

“Soleil.”

“Yup.” I looked at him steadily.

He inclined his head in a courtly nod. “Have a lovely day, Grace.” With that, Stuart walked away, the sun shining on his graying hair. Good luck, pal, I thought.

“Ms. Em! Wait up!” I turned to see Tommy Michener and a man, presumably his father, judging by the resemblance between them, coming toward me. “Ms. Emerson, this is my dad. Dad, this is Ms. Em, the one who took us to that battle!”

The father smiled. “Hello. Jack Michener. Tom here talks about you all the time. Says your class was his favorite.”

Tommy’s dad was tall and thin, with glasses and salt-and-pepper black hair. Like his son, he had a nice face, cheerful and expressive, sort of an Irish setter enthusiasm about the both of them. His grip was warm and dry when he shook my hand.

“Grace Emerson. Nice to meet you, too. You have a great kid here,” I said. “And I don’t say that just because he adores history, either.”

“He’s the best,” Mr. Michener said, slinging his arm around Tommy’s shoulders. “Your mom would be so proud,” he added to his son, a little spasm of pain crossing his face. Ah, yes. Tommy’s mom had died the year before he came to Manning.

“Thanks, Dad. Oh, hey, there’s Emma. I’ll be right back,” Tommy said, then bolted off.

“Emma, huh?” Mr. Michener said, smiling.

“She’s a great girl,” I informed him. “Been nursing a crush on your son all year.”

“Young love,” Jack Michener said, grinning. “Thank God I’m not a teenager anymore.” I smiled. “Did Tom tell you he’s majoring in history at NYU?”

“Yes, he did. I was so pleased,” I answered. “As I said, he’s a fantastic kid. Really bright and interested. I wish I had more students like him.”

Tommy’s dad nodded in enthusiastic agreement. I glanced at my car. Jack Michener made no move to leave, and being that he was the father of my favorite senior, I decided I could chat a little longer. “So what do you do for a living, Mr. Michener?”

“Oh, hey, call me Jack.” He smiled again, Tommy’s open, wide grin. “I’m a doctor.”

“Really?” I said politely. “What kind?”

“I work in pediatrics,” he said.

I paused. “Pediatrics. Let me guess. Surgery?”

“That’s right. Did Tom tell you that?”

“You’re a pediatric surgeon?” I asked.

“Yes. Why? Did you think it was something else?”

I snorted. “No, well…no. I’m sorry. Just thinking of something else.” I took a deep breath. “Um…so. How rewarding your work must be.” The irony sloshed around my ankles in thick waves.

“Oh, it’s great.” He grinned again. “I tend to log in too many hours at the hospital—hard to leave sometimes—but I love it.”

I bit down on a giggle. “That’s wonderful.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tipped his head. “Grace, would you like to join Tom and me for dinner? It’s just the two of us here today…”

“Um, thanks,” I said, “but I can’t. My sister’s getting married tomorrow, and tonight’s the rehearsal.”

His smile dropped a few notches. “Oh. Well, maybe some other time?” He paused, blushing. “Maybe even without Tommy? We live in New York. It’s not that far.”

A date. The pediatric surgeon was asking me out on a date. A burst of hysterical laughter surged up my throat, but I clamped down on it just in time. “Um…wow, that’s really nice of you.” I took a quick breath. “The truth is, I’m…”

“Married?” he said with a no-hard-feelings shrug.

“No, no. I just broke up with someone, and I’m not over him yet.”

“Well. I understand.”

We were quiet for a second, both of us mildly embarrassed. “Oh, here comes Tommy,” I said, relieved.

“Excellent. It was great meeting you, Grace. Thanks again for all you did for my son.”

Tommy enveloped me in a hug. “Bye, Ms. Em,” he said. “You’re the best teacher here. I’ve had a crush on you since my first day of class.”

I hugged him back chastely, my eyes wet. “I’ll really miss you, buddy,” I said honestly. “Write to me, okay?”

“You bet! Have a great summer!”

And with that, my favorite student and his pediatric surgeon dad left, leaving me more bemused than ever.