Furthermore, Shay had already followed up on Mrs. Dubois’s earlier request by talking to the Gifted Arts teacher, Elsie Jenkins.
“Stefan’s a bright kid, no question about it,” Elsie had agreed. “He remembers everything you teach him and is probably going to be an honors student when he gets to middle school years from now. But…he doesn’t show much creativity or outside-the-box thinking when asked to solve problems. We don’t just look at test scores when we evaluate for the gifted program, not that it matters yet.”
Inside Shay’s office, she indicated the small table and shut the door behind them.
Kate wasted no time, launching straight into her complaint. “My Stefan is an exemplary student—”
“He absolutely is,” Shay interrupted, aiming to surprise the other woman with her quick agreement and perhaps take some of the wind out of her maternal sails. “Mrs. Frost is very proud of him and says he’s a courteous student.”
“Yes, well.” Kate fidgeted with the bright orange scarf she wore, looking slightly mollified. “And does Mrs. Frost think that he belongs in the gifted program? His brother Samuel has been in Gifted Arts here at Woodside for the past three years and we were quite distressed to learn Stefan would not be getting that opportunity.”
“He may well get it,” Shay pointed out. “In third grade. As you’re probably aware, the district has made some significant cuts. Resources for the Gifted Arts program have been further limited, making it possible for us to offer the program only to our third through fifth graders.”
Kate leaned forward in her chair, eyes glinting. “This is not my first rodeo, Ms. Morgan. Stefan is the youngest of four, and we’ve been in this school district a lot longer than you have. I know that the fine print of many policies is that principals of individual schools have some discretion as to how the policies are implemented. You could find a way to make an exception.”
And get lynched by the other parents? No, thank you. Shay could have explained that, even if she was inclined to make exceptions, Mrs. Jenkins didn’t think Stefan was a good candidate for Gifted Arts—but that felt too much like throwing one of her teachers under the bus.
She gave the woman a thin smile. “Mrs. Dubois, I’m flattered, but I think you overestimate my godlike power. I can’t just overturn policies willy-nilly for one student. My door is always open to parents, but I’m afraid this particular subject is closed.”
Kate was so visibly angry her nostrils were flaring. But she didn’t seem to know what else to say to press her case. So she stood. “I will be writing to the school board about this.”
“Best of luck,” Shay said. “I for one would love to see some of the financial resources reallocated to the program.”
The woman paused, her hand on the door. “Can’t help but wonder if you would have made an exception for Victoria Hathaway.”
“Excuse me?”
Kate looked back over her shoulder, her expression an ill-concealed sneer. “Carolyn mentioned how you and Mark Hathaway went to the town meeting together. And dinner afterward. And the roller-skating rink. Interesting how no first graders were book buddies until Victoria.”
Shay gripped the edge of the table so tightly she expected to hear the wood splinter. “If Stefan is interested in reading to the kindergarten classes, I’m certain I can arrange it. That doesn’t require extra funding or faculty, after all. As to anything else…I do not discuss one student or their family with another student’s family. I want everyone who comes into this office to be assured of the confidentiality of whatever they say. Good day, Mrs. Dubois.”
At least, it had been.
Chapter Twelve
The Monday evening after Valentine’s Day was the first official Campside Girls meeting at Woodside. Mark certainly had plenty to think about in terms of getting the girls organized and keeping them on track as they attempted a craft project Dee had explained to him via email. “These are easy to follow step-by-step instructions,” she’d promised. Yeah, but so were most recipes, had been his skeptical response. He also wanted to start working with the girls on some songs that they could perform at the Braeden senior community next month—he’d called the director last Friday and she’d been thrilled by the idea.
Yet all thoughts of Campside Girls activities temporarily fled when he pulled into the school parking lot and saw Shay’s car still there. She must be working late. His body temperature shot up at least five degrees at the prospect of seeing her. She’d called him several times since Valentine’s Day and they’d had many wonderful conversations. She certainly didn’t seem to regret the hours they’d spent in front of his fireplace last week. Yet she’d turned down both his invitations for lunch during the school week and his offer to join him and Vicki for a movie. He’d even said that Dee might be willing to babysit if Shay would rather do something just as adults. He hadn’t yet told Dee about his budding relationship, finding himself oddly protective of it and not wanting to share it with outsiders, but he would without question if it meant getting to spend more time with Shay.
Was he being paranoid or had she subtly retreated?
He had arrived early, wanting to be the first person at the meeting so he could set up everything. Vicki had ridden the bus home with Tessa today and Charlotte was bringing both of the girls later. He had a few minutes to stop by her office, if Shay wasn’t in a meeting or otherwise critically occupied.
The school secretary appeared to have gone home already but the door to the front office was open.
“Hello?” he called out. It was surreal to be here when it was so quiet. An elementary school without children’s voices was like an amusement park with no rides.
There was rustling from down the hall. “Mark, is that you?” And then, just as she had the first day he’d met her, Shay poked her head out of the principal’s office. But this time, his heart raced wildly at the sight of her. She’d kicked off her shoes and her hair was loose around her face. She was wearing a cranberry-colored sweaterdress that reminded him of the red wine they’d shared last time he saw her.
“Hi,” he said softly.
Her eyes had widened in greeting, her mouth curving into a sweet smile. But when he spoke, it was as if he’d broken a spell. She literally took a step back, even though yards of carpet separated them, and her expression became one of professional civility rather than uncensored happiness to see him.
“Good to see you,” she said crisply. “I’d almost forgotten that tonight was our first Campside Girls meeting. Need any help with that?” she asked, nodding to the cardboard box balanced in his arms and the plastic bag looped over one forearm.
“That would be great,” he said. “If I’m not taking you away from anything?” Of course he was. Why else would she be here so late?
“Just let me slide my shoes back on.” She ducked into her office, then returned, an inch and a half taller. “You should let me take the box.”
“That goes against my manly instincts,” he complained.
She rolled her eyes. “Surely you don’t plan to teach the girls in your troop that they’re weak and need big strong guys to do things for them?”
Sheesh, when she put it like that. He handed over the box, waiting a beat before he asked, “Isn’t it all right if I occasionally do things for a strong, savvy woman to show her how much she’s appreciated?”
Her grin was irrepressible, making her once again look like herself—the woman who’d worn a tiara in his kitchen and kissed him back so ardently—instead of a polite but distant school administrator who barely knew him. “I suppose that would be all right.”
They walked down the hall together. Since he didn’t see or hear anyone else, he quietly voiced the question that had been plaguing him for a week, “Shay, are you avoiding me?”
Her footsteps faltered, but she kept her head high, her gaze straight ahead. “I just volunteered to walk with you to the cafeteria. Avoiding would have been if I’d hid out at my desk and pretended not to hear you come in.”
“I meant avoiding in the personal sense.”
She still hadn’t looked at him but now a light stain of color was climbing her cheeks.
“I knew it!” What he didn’t know was why. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“Look, I’ve been busy, okay? Don’t automatically assume it’s about you,” she cautioned gently. Even though there was no real sting in her tone, he flinched, feeling like an obsessive egomaniac. “I’ve just had a lot on my plate, including alienating community leaders.”
“What do you mean?” He asked more for her than himself. She sounded distressed and he wanted to help if he could.
She led the way into the empty cafeteria and set the box down on the nearest table. Then she propped her hip against it, shoving a hand through her hair. Golden waves spilled over her fingers. “I was approached by a woman this morning who wants a booth at our fair. The official process is to go through the PTA president and then she brings all requests to me to rubber-stamp. Of course, not everyone has done it that way.”
Him, for instance. Because he’d already spoken to Ridenour in the fall, it had never occurred to him not to ask Shay directly about the Fitness Fair. Had it been an abuse of their relationship, framing the request casually instead of using the proper channels?
She waved a hand. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, since they all come to me eventually anyway, but it helps me build a healthy relationship with the PTA officers when I respect procedure. I’m doing a lot of committee work with them right now to try and establish that we’re a team, all on the same side.”
“So do you think you’re ‘alienating’ people because this woman went around the PTA?”
“No. Because I told her no…and she’s married to one of the town councilmen. A fact she mentioned repeatedly in our fifteen-minute meeting.”
Shay shook her head, looking disgusted. “I didn’t even want to give her an answer. I encouraged her to submit her information, either by leaving some with me or giving it to Nancy, our president, and promised someone would get back to her. But she insisted on a decision. She’s a sales representative for an herbal pharmaceuticals company. None of her products are safe for kids—I’m not entirely convinced they’re all safe for adults—so I didn’t think an elementary school fair would be the appropriate venue. I don’t want to be accused of sending our students the wrong message.”
“And she didn’t understand that?” Mark asked, leaning against the table next to her.
“You know what she told me?” Shay adopted a thick accent and mimicked the voice so well that Mark knew exactly which councilman’s wife she meant—an opinionated size two he’d never particularly liked. “‘Sugar, the pills aren’t for the kids, they’re for the mothers. Honestly, have you seen some of those women?’”
Mark laughed. He didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Has anyone ever told you that you do a wicked impression, Principal Morgan?”
She flashed him a smile. “I am a woman of many talents.”
“I’m sorry you had a difficult day.” He stood, relieved that she wasn’t looking quite so tense anymore, and began pulling supplies out of the box. Although he’d had a few minutes to spare when he first entered the building, if he didn’t get his butt in gear, he’d find himself running late. “Did I tell you the good news? Two moms and one of your science teachers have volunteered to help with the camping trip, so we’re a go!”
Shay wrinkled her nose. “I have to say, the whole appeal of sleeping on the ground and slathering myself under an inch of bug spray is still lost on me. But if anything was going to make me a believer, it would be the discovery that you can make really scrumptious dessert with camping stoves.”
He laughed. “I’ll make sure to bring plenty of chocolate for the girls in case some of them find themselves sharing your opinion.”
“Mark? Before the girls come, there’s something I want to get off my chest.”
He stilled, her tone not boding well. “All right.”
“There’s no district policy that, uh, forbids someone in my position from ‘fraternizing’ with a parent. We’re not doing anything wrong. But I hate that when that woman stormed out of my office today, I had to consider that she could complain I told her no while I said yes to my…well, to you.”
“You don’t really think anyone would take a trumped-up grievance like that seriously?” Mark didn’t mean to belittle her concerns, but surely people were more reasonable than that.
Weren’t they?
“A similar insinuation was already made,” she said. “A mother implied I gave Vicki special treatment because she’s your daughter. It’s stupid—I know that and most people would probably see it. But…I really want to do a good job here. I’ve waited a long time for this opportunity.”
“And I’m jeopardizing that?” he asked tightly.
“I don’t know. Probably not?” She sounded completely unconvinced of her own statement. “Can I just have some space? To think it all over?”
“Sure.” The word felt barbed in his throat, as if it cut into him to say.
“Thank you.” She rose on her tiptoes to press a furtive kiss against his cheek before hurrying toward the double doors. “I appreciate your being understanding.”
Like he had a choice? Mark hadn’t dated much, but he figured enlightened men respected a woman’s emotional needs. Even though what he really wanted to do was throw something at the far wall.
In the Campside Girls handbook, it said learning new vocabulary could help them earn the Adventures in Literacy badge, but Mark doubted that the words he was biting back now were what the CG founders had in mind.
“WHOA!” GENEVA DUCKED out of the way, then reached for the remote. “You want to tell me what gives, Sugar Ray Shay? That’s the second close call in the last fifteen minutes.”
“Sorry,” Shay said breathlessly. “My jab got away from me.” Kickboxing in an enclosed space was not without its dangers.
Geneva had stopped the DVD while Shay apologized. “We’re done for the time being. You have some serious aggression going on. Is this still about that woman yesterday who wanted to peddle diet pills to students and their allegedly fat mamas?”
When Shay had arrived this evening, she’d told that story. Even though the woman in question didn’t have a child at the school—meaning Shay wasn’t obligated to keep a parent, teacher or student confidence—she’d spoken in generalities rather than naming names. Nonetheless, Geneva had immediately guessed who the culprit was and declared her “a pain in the butt from way back.”
“It’s not that.” Shay reached for a bottle of water, trying to find a way to articulate what was bothering her without sounding like a coward, overly intimidated by what people thought of her. Or worse, a heartless wretch who cared more about climbing the career ladder than about people.
The truth was, there were a lot of ways she could help this school and the people in it. She’d implemented some mentoring programs, was working alongside a proud special ed teacher to help a student with Asperger’s make the leap into an inclusion classroom next year, had been making plans with the media center specialist to get Woodside involved in a county reading bowl for the first time. She’d also been busting her tail to secure more money for the art and music departments, which would benefit every child at Woodside.
But she couldn’t do any of those things if she lost this job to a “permanent” replacement by next fall. So, while she wasn’t the type to let other people’s opinions define her, she recognized that now was probably not a prudent time to antagonize people apt to fire off angry letters to the school board.
Shay sat on an exercise mat, leaning against the wall. “I’m upset about Mark.”
“Why? From everything you’ve told me, he sounds darn near perfect. Nothing a few cooking lessons couldn’t cure. I can’t believe I’m the one who got dumped, and you’re the one who’s so cranky.”
Shay rolled her eyes. “Cade didn’t ‘dump’ you. At least, no
t in the version you told me earlier.”
He’d left town for a few days to deliver some custom-made furniture to someone in another state and mentioned that he’d been invited to visit an old friend on the way back. A female friend. Sensing the question he’d been dancing around, Geneva had assured him that he was not answerable to her. Besides, as much fun as she’d had with him for the past month, she didn’t see any real future with someone who hated her favorite book of all time. And how can he even have an informed opinion, Geneva had asked, when he never made it past chapter three?
“I was just trying to make a point,” Geneva admitted, plopping down on the exercise ball Shay had given her, rolling it back and forth while she talked. “I always knew that Cade and I had an expiration date. He was a blast, but he wasn’t…special. We weren’t special to each other, rather. You know? But I get the impression that you and Mark are.”
Shay gnawed at her lower lip, a bad habit from adolescence. In high school, if she was worried about an exam, she’d have her lipstick completely chewed off by homeroom. “He’s special. But he’s also got horrible timing.” The question of her job aside, there was his to worry about. Even though she couldn’t tell Geneva, there was a possibility Mark might be leaving Braeden by summer.
His weeklong sales event had gone well and he reported that the Bullards, the couple who won the free night at Hawk Summit, were headed there soon and had actually booked two additional paid nights. At the next town council meeting, they were voting on the official reopening of the Douglas Lodge. But these were seeds being planted for future growth, not dramatic, immediate solutions.
And if one or both of you leave Braeden, are you going to be content to say goodbye without regrets…or are you going to wish you’d made the most of the time you’d had together?
“Shay, guys like Mark don’t come along that often, and if you don’t want him, some other lucky woman is going to snap him up. But if you do want him…”
“I do.” The words were so easy to say, to admit to herself. So why was she here sweating in Geneva’s basement when she could be making the most of her potentially limited time with the best guy she’d ever met?
His Valentine Surprise Page 15
