by Katy Paige
“No, I just—”
“You just didn’t think I could cut the mustard.”
“No! I’m sure you can! I just—”
“You just think I’m a man who welches on deals he makes?”
“No! Sam! I just didn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything!”
“But I do,” he responded, eyes twinkling. “We had a deal, and I broke it. I owe you a booth.”
It dawned on her that he had just teased her into accepting his help again, but it still didn’t feel right. “Okay. You owe me a booth for too much teasing. I accused you of infidelity. What do I owe you?”
He beamed at her. “I could use a date for the Stroll tonight.”
Chapter 6
Sam and Jenny made their way from her apartment to Gardiner High School, which was a short walk down Main Street toward the river, over the bridge, and a right turn onto Stone Street, where they approached the campus through the empty parking lot.
Sam wasn’t impressed with the relatively small, squat, brown-brick public building before him, but he stopped walking abruptly, staring gape-mouthed at a herd of about a dozen bison grazing on the football field between two goal posts as they approached.
“Are…are those…”
Jenny stopped walking and nodded, smiling at Sam. “Bison. They wreak havoc on that field every year, but it gets fixed in the spring.”
“How often does this happen?”
“Bison coming to town?” She shrugged. “Couple times a week. Especially when it’s cold. The building throws off heat. Not that they need it, but it melts the fields faster around here, and they can graze.” She tugged on his coat sleeve. “Come on, Greenhorn, we’ve got work to do.”
She unlocked the front door of the school, and he stepped inside behind her, the familiar smell common to every high school in America surrounding him.
“This takes me back. I feel like I’m fifteen again.”
“The smell, right? Everyone says that.”
“You forget it over time, but wow! It’s really evocative.”
“Good or bad?”
“Mmm. Good, I guess. I liked high school well enough.”
She started down the corridor, and he followed.
“Did you do any sports?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Yeah. Lacrosse in the spring. I played a little hockey but mostly sat on the bench.”
She looked back at him, raising an eyebrow, and he sensed she was trying not to smile. “That must have hurt.”
“Frankly, it would have hurt a lot more to be smashed into the boards on the ice. Is hockey big here?”
“Not as big as it is in Minnesota, but all the kids skate. You know, on lakes and ponds and such. You can’t grow up in Montana without learning how.”
He nodded. “I believe that.”
They passed the main office, and Jenny paused, glancing in. “There’s a light on. I wonder if Paul’s here.”
“Paul?” he asked, following her into the office.
“The principal.”
The main office was quiet, and they passed a long counter covered with piles of paper and two empty desks, where two secretaries would probably sit. Jenny knocked softly at a door that had light pouring out of the bottom. The sign on the door read, “Your Principal is your Pal.” Sam rolled his eyes.
A cheerful voice boomed from behind the door. “Come on in!”
Jenny pushed open the door, and a young man stood up from his seat behind the desk, his handsome face breaking into a beaming smile. Tall and blond, with an athletic, well-built body and a stupid grin totally directed at Jenny, he was dressed sharply in light khakis and a crisp blue-and-white gingham dress shirt, which was rolled up casually midforearm to reveal a light smattering of blond hair on a muscular arm.
“Jenny!”
“Good morning!” she answered.
His eyes met Jenny’s easily and held them for a longer-than-necessary second before noticing Sam behind her.
“Who’s this with you, Jen?” he asked, his face cooling a touch as he flicked his eyes to Sam.
“Paul, this is Sam. Sam, this is our principal, Paul.”
Your Principal is your Pal, indeed.
A sick feeling started fanning out from Sam’s gut. It got incrementally worse when he turned to Jenny, who was smiling at the attractive, young principal with an easy grin.
“Good to know you,” said Paul, offering his hand.
“You too.” Sam returned the strength of Paul’s grip, pumping his hand twice before dropping it.
Paul turned to Jenny with that dopey grin back in place. “How’re you today, Jenny? Always good to see my favorite science teacher!”
His favorite science teacher? Sam found it hard to believe there was more than one science teacher in such a small school anyway, which meant Paul’s comment was a corny joke too.
“Oh, you!” she said, shaking her finger at the principal like she’d heard that one before. That said, she was still smiling at him.
Sam felt a sheen of sweat break out on his forehead. “Warm in here, right?”
Jenny turned to him. “N-Not really.”
Paul pushed his preppy tortoise-shell glasses up on his nose to stare at Sam intently.
He looks like a J. Crew model, Sam thought with derision. What principal in the middle of Nowhere, Montana, is thirty years old and looks like a J. Crew model? And what’s he doing here when he should be sailing regattas in Connecticut?
“So, Sam…you visiting family? Passing through?”
Sam smiled at him tightly.
“Sam’s cousin is marrying my best friend Ingrid,” Jenny offered.
Paul nodded. “In town for the wedding then?”
“Something like that,” Jenny replied. She turned her eyes to Sam, and her expression, caught between tenderness and laughter, like she was holding on to an inside joke that only they knew, made his heart skip a beat.
“Where’s home?” asked Paul.
“Chicago.”
“Ah-ha. Great place, Chi-Town.” Paul’s shoulders relaxed perceptibly then, and the next smile he offered Sam was a hell of a lot more genuine. That’s when Sam’s suspicions were confirmed. Paul’s interest in Jenny was not just professional. “When do you head back?”
“Next week,” Sam answered, purposely vague. “Looking forward to helping out Jenny today, though.”
Paul turned to Jenny, eyebrows raised in question.
“The booth,” she confirmed. “For the Stroll tonight. Sam’s going to help me bring the pieces up from the basement.”
Paul thumped his forehead with the heel of his palm then nodded at her, smiling. “What would I do without you, Jenny Lindstrom? I totally forgot that needed to be done. Let me help you two get the basement unlocked, and we’ll find those pieces.”
Paul rushed to the door, practically side-checking Sam out of the way, then put his hand on the small of Jenny’s back to usher her through the office.
“Why aren’t the boys giving you a hand?” Paul asked, keeping his shoulder next to hers as they strolled down the hallway with Sam following behind.
“They bartend until late on Friday nights…may as well let them sleep. Sam and I can bring up the pieces, and they can pick them up later.”
They descended the stairs, and Paul led them to the caged room that held the twenty large, unwieldy plywood pieces. He unlocked an exterior door that opened with a view onto the bison still grazing on the football field.
Sam turned to Jenny, ignoring Paul. “So we’ll just bring them out here? Stack them against the wall?”
She nodded. “Perfect.”
“Can I help you two?” Paul stood tense beside Jenny, watching Sam with cool, irritated eyes.
No thanks, chum. You scurry back upstairs to your office and leave us alone now.
“No, thanks.” Sam shook his head, smirking. “I’ll handle it from here.”
“Sam!” Paul clapped him on the back. “That is so terrific, bec
ause I could sure use Jenny’s help in my office collating the newsletters in time for tonight.”
Crap on a cracker. I’ve been outmaneuvered.
Jenny flicked her glance to Sam. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“He’ll be fine!” Paul chirped, shepherding Jenny toward the stairs before she could change her mind.
***
When Jenny looked back, Sam was staring at her and Paul without any trace of his usual teasing smile. He didn’t seem like himself at all.
“I can stay and help yo—”
“It’s fine, Jen,” said Sam, stepping into the cage to get started on the heavy lifting.
She didn’t sense it was fine, but what else could she do? When your boss needed help, you helped, that was all there was to it.
The countertop in the main office was covered with ten piles of paper that needed to be collated and stapled. About fifty newsletters had already been put together, so she got started collating the next 150. She walked down the length of the counter, grabbing one of each sheet and then handing them to Paul in neat piles. He sat at the end of the counter ready to staple.
“So,” he started, “Sam.”
Jenny nodded and smiled. “He’s nice to help, isn’t he?”
“Umm. Yeah. Real nice.” Paul stapled a packet, then cleared his throat. “Now, how is it that he’s visiting you again, Jenny?”
“Oh, he’s not really visiting me. We’re doing some, er, legal work for Kristian and Ingrid.”
“I thought you said Ingrid was getting married. What kind of legal work?”
Jenny flicked a glance at him without stopping her workflow. She really wasn’t sure what to say. She hadn’t anticipated having to tell anyone about taking marriage vows on Ingrid’s behalf, so she didn’t have some smooth way to explain. The less said, the better.
She stopped what she was doing and gave him a direct look. “It’s complicated, Paul. Personal.”
He held her eyes for a moment, his expression surprised. “Okay. I know when I shouldn’t pry.”
Eager to change the subject, Jenny asked, “Are you and Lars fishing on Sunday?”
Paul was the best friend of Jenny’s middle brother, Lars, and looked so much like Lars, it was almost impossible to tell the two apart from a distance. In fact, folks in Gardiner called Principal Paul the “fourth Lindstrom” because he was tall, blond, and ice-blue-eyed like her brothers…which was oddly comforting to Jenny. It made Paul seem familial to her and eliminated the uneasiness she generally felt around young, single men.
“Fishing. Hmm. Good question,” Paul said. “Lower Slide already had a good six inches of ice last weekend.”
Lower Slide Lake was about twenty minutes from Gardiner and a popular spot for ice fishing. Paul and Lars headed down there just about every Sunday afternoon or evening from December to February.
“Lars got that fourteen-inch cutthroat last year,” she reminded him in a teasing voice. That particular trout had almost been big enough to feed all six of them and had started a wicked rivalry between Lars and Paul.
“Dang fish! Don’t remind me!”
Jenny giggled as she handed him another packet.
He looked at her thoughtfully, intently, holding her eyes. “You have the best laugh, Jenny.”
Heat poured into her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she said, dropping his fawning gaze.
“So how long is Sam staying?”
“Just until Monday.”
“I think he likes you.”
She shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Another man can tell,” said Paul.
Shoot, shoot, shoot. No, Paul. I don’t see you like that, she thought, her heart beating faster with the sudden, unwanted realization that Paul might be interested in her.
He stopped what he was doing and stood up, closing the short distance between them, and Jenny swallowed uncomfortably, dreading what she knew was coming next. He stood before her, hands by his sides, and spoke plainly.
“I have to admit, I was a little surprised to see you with Sam this morning. Surprised by how it made me feel.” He paused, scanning her face. “You must know how I feel about you, Jenny. And I…well, I probably should have spoken sooner, but I’ve—I’ve tried to give you space and time to heal. I know your mother’s passing took a toll, and I just always thought—or hoped—the perfect moment would present itself.” He reached out to touch her arm. “For a long time, I’ve wanted—”
“Paul, stop! Please stop. Please don’t do this.”
“Jenny, just let me tell you how I feel—”
“I don’t see you like that!” she blurted out, stepping back from him, her heart about to beat through the wall of her chest. She looked down at her shoes, overwhelmed by the sheer awkwardness of the situation.
Oh, she had noticed Paul’s eyes hold hers a beat longer than necessary from time to time. Or that when he came to dinner, he always sat next to her and always insisted they hold hands for grace instead of folding their hands as they did when he didn’t join them. He often stopped to chat with her in the halls or at school functions. But she had chalked up all of this, naïvely or not, to the close relationship he shared with her family through his friendship with Lars and the boys.
To be careful, though, she had also kept Paul at a brotherly distance to repel any possible romantic expectation, and she assumed whatever rogue feelings he occasionally felt for her weren’t substantial enough for him to pursue: just a symptom of an available young man in a town without a lot of options. She had figured that the occasional romantic interest she felt from him was fleeting, not fixed, and that was exactly the way she wanted it.
“You see him like that?”
Her head snapped up, effectively ending her musings. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I barely know him! I met him yesterday.”
He nodded at her, his expression closing up. “You seemed pretty chummy.”
Jenny didn’t want to talk about Sam. “Paul, you’re important to me. You’re my boss, my coworker. You’re my friend. You’re Lars’s…”
“I’m Lars’s friend.” He sat back down and smiled at her ruefully, shaking his head back and forth. “I thought—”
“No.” Jenny’s voice was firm, brooking no further argument. “You’re my boss. And—and like a brother to me, if anything. I just can’t see you that way…” He winced, and Jenny cringed, sorry that she was hurting him. “I’m sorry.”
Paul stapled the pile of papers in front of him and spoke softly. “You’re special, Jenny. Always have been. Can’t blame a man for trying.”
“Be my friend?” Please be my friend and don’t turn this into something awkward.
“Sure, Jen.” He looked up and smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and sadness lingered on his face.
They worked quietly for several uncomfortable minutes before Paul spoke up again. “But, Jenny…feelings don’t just…disappear. So if things don’t work out with Sam, I’m still here, okay?”
What in the world was he talking about? There’s nothing spoken between Sam and me! Things weren’t going to work out or not work out—there wasn’t even anything to work out, for heaven’s sake!
“There’s nothing between me and Sam,” she said, but that tone of finality that came so easily in rejecting Paul’s feelings didn’t resonate in her voice…and she knew it.
So did Paul, apparently. “That’s not what I saw. But I could be wrong, I guess. I’m just saying, I’m here for you, Jenny.”
That’s not what I saw. The words turned around in her head as they worked in awkward silence. She thought of Sam’s life in Chicago. Hair slicked back, wearing a tuxedo. Cubs games. Pepper. He wasn’t with Pepper anymore, true, but she was someone Sam had chosen for himself.
That’s not what I saw. She was Jenny Lindstrom. Simple Jenny. A schoolteacher from a tiny town in Montana, with a shabby little apartment and an uncomplicated life.
That’s not what I saw.
/>
What did Paul see? Jenny wondered. And why do I wish I could see it too?
***
It took fifteen trips back and forth, but Sam had stacked all twenty pieces of the booth in a tidy pile, leaning up against the brick wall of the school building so Jenny’s brothers could pick them up later if the building was locked. He was sweaty and dusty when he walked back into the school to find Jenny. When he heard voices coming from the office, he couldn’t help himself and tiptoed closer to listen.
“There’s nothing between me and Sam.” Jenny’s voice.
He stopped in his tracks, his heart thumping in his chest at the sound of her voice and his name.
“That’s not what I saw…I’m here for you, Jenny.” Sam couldn’t hear the middle of Paul’s comments. His voice was farther away than hers and muffled.
Sam backed up against the wall outside of the office door and stayed as still as he could. He didn’t want them to think he’d been eavesdropping, plus he was bothered by this exchange, especially the last part: “I’m here for you, Jenny.” Oh, I just bet you are, buddy.
Sam tiptoed back down the hallway as quietly as he could and out the front door, finally sitting down on a bench facing the bison on the football field.
He breathed in, savoring the shock of the cold air to his lungs. She was very clear nothing was going on between her and Sam, and her “pal” Paul was very clear he was there for her.
It stung a little to admit it, but it made perfect sense, actually, that Jenny and Principal Paul would be a couple-in-the-making. She deserved someone good-looking and kind, with his act together, who lived somewhere she lived, worked where she worked, and loved it as she did. What better match for Jenny than a young principal in the school where she worked? Certainly not you, Sam.
He shook his head, wishing it didn’t bother him. He knew he had a connection with Jenny. She was kind and strong, spirited and beautiful. As much as he hadn’t really entertained the possibility of being with Jenny, the reality that she wasn’t interested felt pretty bad.
It also meant his feelings for her had grown beyond a connection or impression. It meant that Sam was falling for her.
“Here you are!” Jenny plopped down on the bench next to Sam. “How long have you been done?”
