A Very Merry Match--Includes a Bonus Novella

by Melinda Curtis

  “Oh.” Elizabeth’s hand shot up. “We can be friends even if we don’t like everything about our friends.”

  “Yes.” Mary Margaret nodded. “The same applies to worksheets and homework. You may not like everything about it but it still has to be done.”

  “Shoot.” Tad let his head drop to his desk just as the bell rang.

  There was a flurry of activity. Several students tried to hurry out without cleaning up their desks. Mary Margaret tried to have eyes in the back of her head.

  Barbara showed up at the door with a box filled with gift bags for their holiday party. She was the perfect example of Mary Margaret’s teaching moment. There were things Mary Margaret didn’t like about her but she was always willing to volunteer. And she was excellent at layering Mary Margaret’s thick hair so that it fell in natural, manageable waves.

  “I was wondering…” Barbara faced Mary Margaret as children flowed out the door past her. Despite having come in during a gentle snowstorm, her blond hair was immaculate. “Would you like to do something with me this weekend?”

  “Uh…” Mary Margaret’s lunch quivered in her stomach.

  “My friends and I have been hearing good things about that new club in Greeley.” Barbara smoothed a lock of Mary Margaret’s hair.

  It was all Mary Margaret could do not to flinch. “The Hanky Panky?”

  “That’s the one.” Barbara slid her hands in her jacket pockets. “It’ll be a fun girls night out, don’t you think?”

  The room was suddenly too empty.

  Mary Margaret managed to mumble some excuse about promising her grandmother she’d help wrap presents.

  “I still don’t like gingerbread,” Tad grumped, dilly-dallying with his ninja-themed backpack. And then he beamed. “Daddy!”

  “Tad!” Kevin picked up his son and swung him around. His gaze locked with Mary Margaret’s. And it was the kind of look that said, You are my person, and I’m glad.

  I’m glad too.

  She just wished Barbara wasn’t here to witness their gladness.

  “I have homework, Daddy.” Tad resumed his petulant expression. “Gingerbread homework. Yuck.”

  Mary Margaret reminded Tad about finding something to like about his assignment.

  “Are you ready for the town council meeting on the development project?” Barbara’s normally cool voice was tinged with interest as she moved closer to Kevin. “Do you need any help?”

  “I’m not talking about my career with you, Barb.”

  “Ms. Sneed, did Louise get crayon on your cheeks?” Tad pointed at her face as he wriggled out of his father’s arms. “Daddy, look how red she is. Like Santa’s suit.” Tad laughed and ran into the bathroom that separated the two kindergarten classes.

  Mary Margaret busied herself hanging Jose’s forgotten backpack, picking up the pieces of a broken black crayon, and closing her lesson plan book. Tad was still in the bathroom, and his parents were still in her classroom.

  Barb tossed her head and gave Mary Margaret a side-eye. “If you’re going to date, Kev, make sure you vet this woman.”

  This woman inwardly cringed. Mary Margaret’s secrets wouldn’t stand up to vetting of any kind.

  Tad flushed the toilet and banged the stall door open.

  “‘Vet this woman’?” His words may have parried Barbara’s thrust but Kevin sounded as smooth as a fresh layer of snow on a softly slanting roof. “Like you vetted Iggy?”

  “If you don’t do it, I will,” Barbara said coolly.

  Uh-oh. Mary Margaret vowed to call in sick at the Hanky Panky on Friday.

  Tad ran out of the bathroom and to his cubby.

  “Go right ahead. She’s got nothing to hide.” Kevin joined his son at the wall of cubbies. “Let’s get your snow boots on, Tad. We can tackle your gingerbread homework together before my next meeting.”

  “Somebody’s got to watch out for you, Kev.” Barbara glided toward the door, because stomping was beneath her.

  Mary Margaret was frozen, trapped with no way out.

  Tad’s broad brow clouded. “Mommy’s mad. She’s madder than I am at gingerbread.”

  “But she’s not mad at you,” Kevin said firmly.

  Tad’s expression cleared, and his signature grin returned. He wrapped his arms around Kevin’s legs. “I love you, Daddy. That’s why I’ll do gingerbread worksheets.”

  Kevin clung to his son a little too long. Something was wrong. Did he realize Mary Margaret wouldn’t pass Barbara’s inspection?

  “Is everything okay?” Mary Margaret wanted to soothe the worry lines furrowing his brow. But she also wanted to lean into the strength of his embrace and hear him say everything was going to be all right.

  “I don’t want you to feel threatened,” Kevin said.

  Mary Margaret’s breath caught. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

  “I’m hungry.” Tad stomped in a circle in his snow boots.

  “We’ll pick up something before we go back to town hall.” Kevin’s gaze hadn’t left Mary Margaret. “But before we go, Ms. Sneed needs a hug.” He led Tad over and put his arms around her. “I’ll take care of this.”

  “I love my teacher.” Tad hugged her leg. “But I still hate gingerbread.”

  “Wait for me in the hall, Tad. I’ll be right out.” Kevin didn’t say anything more until his son had left the room. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

  That you love me?

  Mary Margaret swallowed her question.

  Kevin moved closer, holding her arm above her elbow. “When the party came to interview me…Well, your name came up.”

  “My name?” Mary Margaret sat on top of the nearest desk, which happened to be Tad’s. “Why?”

  Kevin shifted his feet the way Tad did on the rare occasion he considered his words carefully. “They need to do background checks on everyone close to me.”

  “You mean…” She pressed her hand to her throat. “They’re going to investigate…me?” Run a credit report? Employment history?

  He nodded.

  Time slowed. She drew in a shaky breath. “You’re saying that, not only is Barbara going to pry around my life, but your political party as well?” It was over. Whatever window she’d had to be with Kevin had been closed. She’d never survive this level of scrutiny.

  “Daddy, come on.” Tad clomped back into the classroom.

  “I’m sorry.” Kevin framed her face with his hands. “I know it seems like an invasion of privacy, but it’s really nothing for someone like you.”

  Mary Margaret couldn’t manage so much as a nod.

  Kevin and Tad left. Mary Margaret sat at her desk and tried to work on a lesson plan, a futile effort. All she could think about was the corner she’d backed herself into. It was only a matter of time until everyone knew she was dancing at the Hanky Panky. Why quit now? She had to make as much as she could while she was still able.

  “We had an agreement.” Tom Bodine marched in with his two teenage boys in tow. “You were going to tutor my sons. I just found them ordering milk shakes at the Burger Shack. They were supposed to be with you.” His scowl was as dark as his black cowboy hat.

  “I never agreed to help them.” And the sly dogs were smart enough to bring their grades up on their own. What they needed was discipline, not academic attention.

  Tom waved an impatient hand. “You never said no. Boys, sit down and show Ms. Sneed your work.” He waited until his sons each squeezed themselves into a small chair at the front of the classroom. “They’ll be here after school every day until the end of the term.” He stomped out.

  One of the twins fell over in Tad’s chair. Mary Margaret was sure he did it on purpose because his brother did the same thing. They lay sideways on the floor, chuckling.

  “Whatever game you’re playing with your father isn’t going to work with me.” She walked over to the door and closed it, shutting them in.

  The twins stood. They wore hoodies underneath their thick jackets.
They flipped the hoods up and then faced her, black jackets contrasted against the white board behind them.

  There was something familiar about their silhouettes. Her tired, stressed-out brain made a connection. “I’ll give you two choices. Confess why you’re pretending school work is beneath you or I’m going to call the sheriff and report you for vandalizing property.”

  The twins exchanged a long look. She’d read about twin-speak but these two were masters of it.

  “You’ve got nothing on us,” Twin One said.

  “Don’t I?” She tsked. “I saw you trying to spray paint the grain silo by the interstate. That was stupid in itself, but you did it while it was snowing. You were on the catwalk forty feet above the ground. Your dad may be loud and bossy but he loves you. He wouldn’t bother trying to straighten you out if he didn’t care. How do you think he’d feel if either of you had fallen and been paralyzed or worse—killed?”

  Her words were met with silence.

  “Do you know how many children I see in this school who have parents who don’t care that they can’t read? Who don’t want to acknowledge that their child has a learning disability? Do you know how many kids don’t have enough to eat over the weekend? Who don’t have snow boots and walk to school in the snow with sneakers that are duct taped together?”

  “We should start a charity,” Twin One said, regaining his snark.

  “We’ll do that.” Twin Two righted Tad’s chair. “After we pass this term and Ms. Sneed gets paid.”

  “We heard you need money.” Twin One pushed Louise’s chair beneath her desk.

  Mary Margaret lost all appreciation for Sunshine’s grapevine. “I’m not going to take your dad’s money when I haven’t helped you.” She should have saved her breath.

  They were gone.

  * * *

  “What are we doing here?” Tad looked around the furniture shop.

  “I thought we’d talk to your grandpa about making you a bunk bed.” Kevin had Tad by the hand and was headed toward his father’s office. He had to raise his voice above the sound of the planer and lathe.

  “Cool.” Tad began to skip. “Bunk beds are good for sleepovers and ninja forts.”

  The family’s office space was in the corner of the building and had windows on two walls. Paper cutouts of Santa and Frosty were taped to the windows. His parents each sat at a desk inside, where the doors and windows kept out much of the woodworking noise.

  “What a surprise.” Mom hugged them both.

  The back wall was covered with awards and photographs of the family working with wood.

  Dad noticed the direction of Kevin’s gaze. “Remember this?” He removed a framed photograph from the wall. “You must have been eight or nine when this was taken.”

  In the photo Kevin held a push broom, grinning from ear to ear. His father and grandfather stood behind him, each with a hand on his shoulder.

  Tad peered at the photo. “Daddy, you look like me.”

  He was right. Kevin had been a chunk-o-monk. He’d forgotten he hadn’t been slim and athletic all his life, possibly because his parents hadn’t made a big deal about his weight.

  “Some family traditions are meant to be passed on,” Kevin said. “Tad and I want to build a bunk bed. And we’d be thrilled to have Grandpa’s help.” He nodded to his father.

  Kevin’s parents were ecstatic with the request.

  “First we have to choose a design.” Dad was old school. He produced a binder filled with ideas, examples, and plans, and lifted Tad into his lap.

  “Is there a ninja bunk bed?” Tad asked.

  Mom glowed at the pair, clearly pleased with this turn of events.

  Kevin pulled up a chair next to her desk. “I need some advice about Barb.”

  “She found out about you and Maggie.” It wasn’t a question. His mother looked grim. “I’m assuming you’ve already told your ex-wife to stay out of your love life.”

  Kevin nodded. “And my career.”

  “Who’s Maggie?” Tad asked.

  “It’s a style of bunk bed,” Kevin’s mother said without missing a beat. “Rich, give your grandson a candy cane.” They filled a pencil cup on his desk.

  Between the candy cane and bunk bed photos, Tad lost interest in their conversation. He flipped pages and hummed a tune.

  “She’s going to make Maggie’s life miserable. And it’s all my fault.”

  “Ah, honey.” Mom rubbed his arm. “Barb’s so used to running the town that she needs a special project.”

  “Her and the beauty shop posse,” Kevin muttered.

  Mom tsked. “Those women are Barb’s support group. Maybe you need to call in the Widows Club. They could recruit Barb to help with one of their fundraisers. I hear the Christmas Ball isn’t living up to expectations.”

  Kevin shook his head. “I need something a little bit more immediate and preferably time consuming.”

  “You could offer a truce,” Mom suggested. “She can help you with the state political campaign.”

  “No. No chance.” He’d just succeeded in extricating Barb from his life. He wasn’t letting her back in again.

  “This one.” Tad tapped a diagram of a bunk bed. “It has a desk and a ladder.”

  “With a few blankets hanging over the rail, it could be a ninja cave,” Dad told him. He opened the binder and handed Tad the diagram. “Can you run this out to Pete? He’s taking inventory in the wood storage room. He’ll know just what wood to pick.”

  “Yeppers.” Diagram in one hand, candy cane in the other, Tad scurried out of the office.

  “Son.” Dad turned to Kevin. “If Maggie is the girl for you, she’s got to be made of stern stuff.”

  Mom frowned.

  “You mean she should weather whatever storm Barb brings.” Kevin shook his head. “That’s not fair.”

  “Barb is enthralled by power. You’ve taken that away from her.” Dad closed the binder and set it aside. “Have you considered dropping out of politics altogether? That way there’d be no excuse for your ex-wife to protect you, so to speak.”

  “She’s not protecting me,” Kevin insisted.

  “But she is. In her way.” Dad’s gaze was steady. “Let the state opportunity pass. Settle down here with Maggie.” And by here, he meant the furniture operation.

  “Way to work this around to your agenda, Dad.” And make Kevin feel guilty at the same time.

  His father shrugged. “You came here looking for advice. That’s my two cents.”

  Kevin shook his head and went to find Tad. Give up his political aspirations?

  There had to be another way.

  A promotional poster for the chain of stores Dad had landed as a client caught his eye. The headline read: FANTASTIC BED FOR THE NEWLYWED.

  Kevin paused. Marriage. Barb would have to ease up on Maggie if Kevin married her. There would be nothing to vet.

  He cared for Maggie. She felt like the right person for him. And Tad loved her. Why waste time dating when they could make a commitment and put Barb in her place on the sidelines?

  The idea of marriage to Maggie calmed him. She understood the importance of his dreams. She was kind and caring, not to mention beautiful and sexy in an understated way. But after what her father had done to her and the mess Derek had left her, she needed to feel special, which meant a very special proposal. A truly romantic proposal.

  And because of Barb, a proposal delivered as soon as possible.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tad tugged on Mary Margaret’s hand Monday morning in class. “Ms. Sneed, are you a zombie?”

  “No, Tad.”

  “But you’re walking like one.” He tilted his head to one side and walked stiffly. “I watch a lot of Scooby-Doo. They chase after zombies all the time.”

  The class laughed.

  “You shouldn’t make fun of the way people move.” Mary Margaret rubbed her neck, wishing for another of Kevin’s massages. “I hurt a nerve in my neck.” She hadn’t danced profe
ssionally since she’d received that scar. She was using muscles she didn’t normally use. And she’d danced her heart out this weekend, as if it was her last set of performances. “Did everyone practice their lines for the Christmas pageant last weekend?”

  A few girls raised their hands enthusiastically. The rest of the class avoided her gaze.

  “All right. Let’s spend a few minutes practicing. You wouldn’t want to stand up in front of the whole school and blink like an owl, would you?” She widened her eyes and blinked, making sure every child saw her. “Let’s line up in order.”

  More giggles as her little charges scurried into position.

  “Tad, aren’t you supposed to be Z?” And therefore, at the end of the line.

  He scuffed his feet on his way to the end. “I just wanted to stand by Louise.” His crush.

  “You can stand by Louise at recess.”

  Tad huffed and sat in Elizabeth’s chair, kicking out his feet in rebellion.

  “First off, you’ll be introduced.” Mary Margaret faced an imaginary audience. “Tonight, my kindergarten class has come up with twenty-six reasons to celebrate the holiday season. Take it away, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth tugged her dark curls. “A is for all the pretty lights.” She curtsied and walked primly to the back of the line and then crossed her arms in disgust. “Ms. Sneed, I can’t get in line behind Tad because he’s not in line.”

  “Tad.” Mary Margaret made his name into a warning. A gentle warning but a warning nonetheless.

  He got to his feet, slouching and letting his arms sway like two elephant trunks. Mary Margaret didn’t have the heart to reprimand him today.

  The alphabet progressed. Predictably, Louise was too shy to speak her line.

  “T is for shiny tinsel, honey,” Mary Margaret prompted her.

  Louise repeated the line in a whisper and headed toward the back, earning her a moon-eyed stare from Tad. He considered himself her ninja protector.

  Finally, they came to the last letter.

  Tad was still slouching but his dangling arms were banging together like seal flippers now. “Z is for the zest we feel when Christmas presents are revealed.”

  Mary Margaret bent down and stroked his soft brown hair. “A zombie couldn’t have delivered that line any better.” She straightened everything but her neck. “And now we all hold hands. Swing them up. Swing them down. And bow. And then off the stage we go.”