“Can we do it again?” Hector asked.
“You really should.” Barbara appeared in the open doorway. She wore a black sweater dress, black boots, and a black stadium jacket. Two guesses as to her mood. “That performance was—”
“Inspired,” Mary Margaret cut her off. “Normally, I’d say let’s do it again, but if we don’t finish our holiday party placemats, we’ll have nothing to put our plates on. And if we can’t put plates down, we can’t fill our plates with cookies and cupcakes.”
Twenty-six five-year-olds scurried into their seats and began coloring their holiday placemats.
Mary Margaret joined Barbara at the back of class.
“Are you all right?” Barbara rubbed her neck in solidarity.
“Pinched nerve, I think.” Mary Margaret grimaced. “I’m headed to the doctor after school.”
“It looks painful.” Barbara nodded toward her son. “They need to practice. Tad’s delivery was flat.”
“He was having fun with me. He’ll be fine at the pageant.” She hoped Barbara wouldn’t take that as a promise. Tad was unpredictable, as his mother well knew.
“I’ve been trying to have him practice at home but you know Tad.” Barbara’s gaze softened, as it sometimes did when she was feeling charitable toward her son. “The only thing he takes seriously is being a ninja.”
The children were talking quietly. A few were almost coloring inside the lines. Others, like Tad and Louise, made broad strokes to fill their placemats.
“Can I talk to you for a moment in private?” Barbara held the door open and smiled.
Barbara didn’t smile often. That was twice in just a few minutes.
Mary Margaret’s neck stiffened as they stepped into the hallway. She hadn’t seen Barbara at the Hanky Panky this weekend but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been lurking in the shadows. Was that what this was all about?
“I just wanted you to know that Kevin and I…” There was Barbara’s smile again. “Well, we’re having our challenges but I’m going to be his campaign manager when he runs for state office. We’ll be working very closely together, which means he won’t have as much time to spend with you.”
Mary Margaret’s neck convulsed as if she’d stuck her finger into an electrical socket. “I’m not sure I’m the appropriate person to tell this to. I mean, I’m just Tad’s teacher?” Had that come out as a question? She pressed her lips together lest she confess she’d used them to kiss Kevin more than once.
Barbara rubbed Mary Margaret’s arm consolingly. “I wanted you to know because someone saw the two of you together coming out of Los Consuelos recently.”
“Oh, that?” Fake laughter. Fake smile. Fake bravado. “We grabbed a bite after our stint as volunteer gift wrappers. Just as friends.” Friends who were hot for each other.
Barbara’s expression didn’t change. “And I heard you had a drink together at Shaw’s a time or two.”
“My friends hang out there. But…Well, there was that one time I had car trouble after the poetry slam.” Mary Margaret forced a chuckle that sounded like she was throwing herself on the mercy of the court. “Two flats. Can you believe it?”
“And someone saw you having a snowball fight at The Woodsman’s Tree Farm.” Her smile was chilling.
“Barbara, I am not dating your husband.” Mary Margaret’s head was tilted at an awkward angle. She wished it’d just roll off and down the hall. “Er, your estranged husband. Ex-husband. I mean, Kevin. There’s no reason to poke around in my life.”
“I just wanted to make sure you understood where I’m coming from,” Barbara said in that frigid voice of hers, accentuated by that ice queen countenance. “I don’t lose.”
She turned and took a few steps toward the principal’s office before changing her mind and coming back for what could only be a knockout in round two. “Oh, and don’t forget your hair appointment this Saturday.” She gently brushed a lock of hair from Mary Margaret’s shoulder. “I see we need to touch up your gray again.” She pivoted and walked down the hallway, a spider having eaten the fly.
* * *
“Sir, you have to be at the doctor’s office in ten minutes.” Yolanda didn’t just show up in Kevin’s doorway to remind him. His assistant marched around behind his desk and tugged his arm upward. “If you miss this one, Dr. Arnett will drop me from his patient list.”
“But we’re still working on my press release concerning JPM’s charitable contributions.” He and Everett were wordsmithing the document and had been emailing it back and forth. He couldn’t find the right words to make the announcement, just like he couldn’t find the right words to ask Maggie to take a chance and marry him.
But Yolanda had the grip of a boa constrictor. Her fingers closed around Kevin’s bicep and dragged him out of his chair. “It’s just a flu shot. You’re supposed to be the shining example to the town.”
“Nobody knows I haven’t gotten the shot.” Kevin dragged his feet down the stairs after her. “Nobody except you and Dr. Arnett’s office.”
Yolanda tsked. “I asked the Sunshine Weekly News to do an interview with you. You have to get the shot or they’ll write something about you being scared of needles.”
“A complete fabrication.” Besides, who liked needles?
“Don’t come back until you’ve been jabbed.” Yolanda pushed him out the door.
Thankfully, he had his cell phone in hand. He sent Maggie a text to say he was thinking of her.
A few minutes later, Dr. Arnett’s nurse Bridget led him down the hall toward an exam room.
His phone rang. It was Everett. Kevin stopped in the middle of the beige hallway. “I’ve got to take this.”
“No go, sir. You need to step outside to use your phone.” Bridget paused in front of exam room three, backing toward the door.
“It’s just a quick call.” Kevin flashed her the display.
Bridget gave him the stink eye. “That’s what they all say. Out with you, then.”
Kevin answered Everett in a whisper and walked down the hall.
“Mr. Hadley. Kevin.” The nurse dogged his steps. “The lobby is the other way.”
Everett wasted no time in pleasantries. “Someone spray painted a No Distribution Center sign on one of the silos.”
Groaning, Kevin darted into the medical office’s kitchen. This was a disaster.
Bridget walked up to him and said, “I need you in room—”
Kevin looked away and gave her the wait-one-minute sign. “I’m going to get someone out there to clean it up.”
“No.” Everett’s answer surprised him.
“What do you mean, no? Cray’s people aren’t going to like it.” They could back out. And then all the flack he’d been taking from the community would have been for nothing.
“They already know we have opposition.” Everett was calmer than Kevin was. “JPM will show up at the town meeting and see it. We need to be up front to both sides.”
Someone called for Nurse Bridget. She left Kevin alone in the break room.
“People need an outlet, Kevin. I say leave it up.”
“I suppose it’s the right thing to do but it still sucks.” Kevin hung up and hurried back down the hall, throwing open the door to room three, which was where he and the nurse had stopped earlier, the room he’d assumed he was supposed to be in.
Maggie sat on the exam table with her back to him. She was holding up her hair so the doctor could see her neck. A thin scar climbed from the top of her shoulder blade and disappeared into her hairline.
Kevin slammed the door shut, stunned.
“Why are you always trouble when you come in?” The nurse marched down the hall and opened the door to room two. “I’m going to use the biggest needle I have. We have rules to protect people’s privacy. Canceling appointments and taking phone calls. That’s just rude.”
In a fog, Kevin let her ramble. His sweet, innocent Maggie wasn’t sweet and innocent at all!
He rubbed his thumb
across the tips of his fingers. Those same fingertips had traced the length and shape of that scar when he’d kissed a masked Roxy behind the Hanky Panky. Now he understood why Maggie hadn’t wanted his hands near her neck when he kissed her.
Bridget jabbed Kevin with a needle like he was a piece of tough meat and she was inserting a cooking thermometer. She covered the injection site with a Band-Aid. “Get out of my office.”
Kevin was happy to comply. He walked slowly back to town hall, numb. The wind swirled snowflakes around him, tugging at the open ends of his jacket. He didn’t care.
He found it hard to believe that Roxy and Maggie were one and the same, just as he’d found it hard to believe that Barb had been cheating on him. But he couldn’t deny the truth. Maggie was Roxy.
He washed a hand over his face, steps slowing as he rounded the corner and neared the movie theater. He’d told the party’s screening committee about Maggie. He’d sung her praises. He’d thought she was going to be a great asset to his life, his career. What an idiot he’d been.
He’d bought an engagement ring. He’d made proposal plans. He’d told his parents! His mother had probably already told everyone who worked in the furniture shop. They’d think he was a chump.
He still wanted her. He shouldn’t but he did.
Kevin wasn’t a prude. He knew Maggie hadn’t taken off her clothes in that club. In theory, there was nothing wrong with her taking on a second job. But he was willing to bet there were voters who would care that she danced suggestively in skimpy costumes, not to mention private investigators who’d eat that information for lunch.
His heart was breaking for the second time that year, and he was angry. Limb-shaking, sweaty-palmed angry.
Betrayed!
What if he’d married her before he’d found out? It would’ve been his first marriage all over again. The deception. The lies.
But with more passion, more of a connection, more truth.
He took back that last word, thank you very much. He’d been looking at other couples and seeing flaws in their relationships. He hadn’t looked at his own relationship. He hadn’t looked because…
He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, standing in front of the pet shop window where the sole remaining poodle puppy stared back at him with unconditional love in her eyes.
He hadn’t looked at his own budding relationship with Maggie because he didn’t just care for her. He loved her.
I love Maggie.
He loved her big heart. He loved the way she strived to forgive Derek his flaws. He loved her honesty. Sure, she’d kept her Roxy-ness from him but she’d told him several times that he shouldn’t date her. He loved the way she clung to him when he kissed her deeply. He loved the way she commanded a crowd when she danced. She’d earned his respect time and again.
But love…
Love didn’t change the fact that she was dancing on the back of his dreams.
His feelings didn’t matter. Love didn’t matter. If he continued to pursue any kind of relationship with Maggie, his political career was over. His dreams unfulfilled.
* * *
Mary Margaret took muscle relaxers, called in sick on Tuesday to both jobs, locked her doors, and turned off her phone.
Kevin had left a voicemail and text, as had Grandma Edith, wanting to talk to her. Still feeling languid, she dutifully showed up at the evening rehearsal for the Christmas Pageant Tuesday night without having answered either one. In her state, she wasn’t up for in-depth conversations.
“Ms. Sneed!” Her kindergarten charges surrounded her.
They all wore white, adult-size T-shirts that fell below their knees. Each shirt was decorated with the glittery letter they were to recite. Sparkly angel halos made of pipe cleaners shimmered in the light. They shouted questions concerning her health.
“Are you okay?”
“Did you throw up?”
“Did you get a shot?”
“Is your neck broken?” Tad asked.
“I’m better. I’ll be back at school tomorrow.” She herded them into their line, straightening the occasional slipping halo. “Remind me…Who is M?”
“Mari!” several students cried, guiding Mari to her spot.
“I don’t know how you keep track.” Barbara materialized beside Mary Margaret, like a deadly spider you hadn’t noticed building a web above your back door.
Mary Margaret chalked up her overactive imagination to the muscle relaxers and gave Tad’s mother a benevolent smile.
“I brought candy canes for after the performance.” Barbara patted her pink leather purse, which was large enough to carry a cuddly dog had she been the type to have one.
But when Tad shouted, “Hurray! Candy canes!” Barbara countered, “Not for you, Tad.”
Tad looked crestfallen but not surprised.
“Barbara.” Mary Margaret couldn’t let that injustice slide. “We’re not supposed to hand out treats unless they can be consumed by everyone.” Not that this year’s class had anyone on a gluten-free or peanut-free or dairy-free diet.
“Who says?” Barbara leveled her gaze on Mary Margaret. “That isn’t a school board rule.”
“Principal Rogers.” And anyone with any sense of fairness.
Kevin entered the gym. Because Barbara was with her, Mary Margaret pretended to be enthralled by the upper grade choir. Still, she managed to note his progress in her direction.
“I swear that man is overexposed.” Barbara crossed her arms and tapped a booted foot impatiently. “Don’t tell me you were asked to emcee this event too, Kev.”
“I’m not the emcee.” Kevin bypassed his ex-wife and came to a stop in front of Mary Margaret. But he didn’t regard her with tenderness in his eyes or heat in his gaze. He looked at her as if he were Tom Bodine and she were one of his twin boys.
Maybe I should have answered his messages.
“Tad will be glad you could make it tonight.” Disappointed and blushing under his scrutiny, Mary Margaret turned away. Clearly, she shouldn’t take muscle relaxers when she went out in public. Her heart had escaped to her sleeve. “Louise, do you need to go to the bathroom?”
“No.” Louise spun back and forth, making her skirt float like an upside-down tulip.
“No?” Mary Margaret asked, just to be sure.
“No.”
“Daddy! Did you come to see me?” Tad ran toward Kevin, tripped, and fell to his knees. He rolled into a ball and began to cry.
Kevin scooped his son into his arms before Mary Margaret could reach him.
“You’re fine, Tad.” Barbara hadn’t moved. Talk about tough love.
Mary Margaret brushed Tad’s hair from his forehead. “Anything broken, little ninja?”
Tad must have been tired because he wailed through his tears. “Everything!”
Kevin patted Tad’s back. “Give us a minute.” But instead of moving away, he said to Mary Margaret, “I need to talk to you. In private.” There was an unfamiliar note to his voice, a distance he didn’t normally use with her.
She brushed it off. The auditorium was loud, and she might have imagined it. She’d taken muscle relaxers, after all.
“Whatever you have to say in front of our son’s teacher about Tad, you can say in front of me.” Barbara had dropped into their conversation like the territorial spider she was.
“I’m not discussing Tad.” Kevin raised his voice over his son’s wails. “What I have to say to Mary Margaret is none of your business.”
Mary Margaret? But…I’m your Maggie.
The distance in Kevin’s gaze said otherwise.
Mary Margaret spun back to her milling charges before she threw her medicated self at his feet and asked what was wrong.
On the stage, Wendy was coaching the third graders in their skit. She instructed them to speak up and start from the top. At this rate, Mary Margaret’s class wouldn’t be done until nine.
The Widows Club board entered the auditorium with Grandma Edith, but upon seeing
Kevin and Mary Margaret, they seemed to huddle together like a college basketball team talking strategy after a foul. She watched as, instead of heading their way, they worked the room.
Mary Margaret had no idea what was going on.
“Test-test.” Wendy turned on the microphone. “Will Ms. Sneed’s kindergarten class line up on the side steps to the stage.” She repeated her instruction twice.
Mary Margaret led the way, hoping that Barbara would stay behind with Kevin and a still crying Tad. She marched her class up the side stairs single file.
“Elizabeth!” Sandy called out to her daughter. She wanted a picture and told Elizabeth to stay put so she could take one.
Elizabeth, who was to recite the letter A, obeyed her mother and stopped the flow of traffic.
The take-charge little girl smiled dutifully as Laurel and Hardy entered the gym. Elizabeth looked beyond her mother to the crowd of parents, who all seemed to be staring at her, or at least at the little angels of Ms. Sneed’s kindergarten class.
Caught in the spotlight, Elizabeth’s expression crumpled. And then she began to cry, walking to center stage with her arms outstretched toward her mother.
It wasn’t unusual for one of Mary Margaret’s students to break out in tears but it was unusual for the crier to be Elizabeth. She was usually an overbearing Lucy to their tenderhearted gang of Peanuts.
Then, from the second step, Elizabeth’s best friend Ariceli also burst into tears. A ripple of tears raced through the line like the spread of chicken pox—that is, until the ripple hit Louise.
Louise didn’t cry, but she did look stricken.
“No, baby. It’s okay.” Kathy ran for her daughter but Mary Margaret knew she was too late. Louise had wet her pants.
A deluge of kindergarten parents rushed the stage as if they were storming the Alamo. Halos fell off in the midst of comforting pick-ups and hugs.
“Attention,” Wendy said into the microphone. She wasn’t the school secretary because she was faint of heart. She might have been soft-spoken, but she could’ve made the mighty General Patton fall in line. “Mrs. Sneed’s kindergarten class will proceed to the backstage dressing room immediately.”
A Very Merry Match--Includes a Bonus Novella Page 23
