Chapter Four
“Did you teach me?” asked the old woman, narrowing her eyes. “English? In high school?”
“Surely not,” snapped Myrtle, feeling a rising horror that she might have taught someone who appeared nearly as old as she was.
Miles started choking on his chicken and Myrtle pounded on his back. He hastily sipped his iced tea until the coughing spell subsided. The entire time, the old woman continued staring at her.
“I was Inez Bridgebane,” she said. “Now I’m Inez Wilson. And I’m positive you taught me. Miss Towers, wasn’t it? I never forget a face. Never.”
Myrtle sighed. “Yes, that was my maiden name. I suppose I did teach you. But it must have been early in my career—I’m not that old. I did start out as a substitute for a pregnant teacher and finished the year out for her. That pro
