Wednesday afternoon found Noel in the library's quiet section, deep in a journal article about cross-border trade disputes, when his phone vibrated against the table.
Mom calling.
He glanced around—the quiet section had rules about phone calls—and quickly stepped into the hallway.
"Hey, Mom."
"Noel, hi!" Her voice carried that particular warmth that always made him feel like he was ten again. "Are you busy?"
"Just studying. What's up?"
"I'm actually in the city. Principal's conference—educational leadership workshop, very boring stuff. But I have a free afternoon and thought maybe we could grab coffee? If you're not too swamped."
Noel checked his watch. Two-thirty. "Yeah, I can do that. Where are you?"
"The conference center downtown. But I can meet you wherever is convenient."
"There's a café near campus. I can be there in twenty minutes?"
"Perfect. Text me the address."
