by Susan Finlay
As the evening wound down, Steve and Claire left Marcus with Frank and his family for the night to have some wedding night privacy. Claire was a little worried about leaving him, until Marcus said he was excited about his ‘slumber party’ as Amy and Kyle called it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
BACK AT HOME, and sorry to have to end their mini honeymoon, Claire and Steve procrastinated in bed, enjoying precious moments together, then rushed to get ready for work. During breakfast, Steve announced, “Next week, Tuesday night, is the next school board meeting. I’ll tell them then about our marriage while we’re in executive session. I’d rather not announce it in front of the public, in case the board gives me flack.”
“All right,” Claire said. “When should I tell my staff?”
“Hmm, better wait until just before I tell the board. We don’t want someone on the board to hear about it before I formally tell them. So, I guess after school on Tuesday would be best.”
“Sure. Are you going to call your mother and tell her?”
“I will. She’ll be thrilled.”
TUESDAY MORNING, SHORTLY after Claire sent out notices to the faculty telling them there would be a meeting right after school, Ron stuck his head in her office and said, “What’s going on? A special meeting on short notice? Don’t we need to talk about it? I mean, you usually give me a heads-up.”
“Oh,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck, “it’s . . . well, it’ll just be a brief meeting, nothing that you need to be advised of ahead of time. I just have something I want to tell everyone at the same time.”
He frowned, gave her an inquisitive stare, then turned and walked away, hands in pockets and perhaps a bit unhappy. She considered calling him into the office for a private chat, but her phone rang and he had already disappeared.
WHILE EVERYONE MADE their way into the faculty lounge for the meeting, Claire entered, filled a paper cup with water and sipped. When everyone was seated, she sat at one of the tables and set down her cup. “This is just a very quick meeting. I want to inform you about something personal.” Her palms felt sweaty and she hid them behind her back. “I—uh—I’m not really sure how to begin.” She paused, took in a deep breath, and then tried again. “I—” Although she had planned what she was going to say, when she looked at them, her mind blanked.
Ron asked, “What’s wrong, Claire?”
“Sorry, everyone. It’s hard for me to talk about my private life. I can talk about practically anything else, but talking about my life is hard for me. Be patient, I’ll get there.” She cleared her dry throat, then coughed several times and had to sip some more water. Finally, she said, “Most of you know about the problems between the school board and me, right?” Heads assented around the room. “They wanted to fire me, yet they couldn’t. Not then. I believe they are keeping a very close eye on me.” She hesitated, then resumed her speech. “What you don’t know is that I’ve been keeping a secret from them.” Some murmuring and whispering ensued. “From almost everyone, actually. I—uh—well, I’m just going to say it. Our school superintendent and I just got married. I’m now Claire Jensen.”
There were more pronounced surprise murmurs and whispering. Ron, who had been standing against the back wall, crossed his arms, and his head and shoulders seemed rigid. Claire studied his face but it was unreadable, the same poker face she’d seen on the day they’d first met, and it felt as though all their time spent together had been erased, like the equations she used to wipe off a chalkboard in her classroom. She shouldn’t have told him about the accusations John Richmond had made. Too late now.
“When did you get married?” a teacher asked.
Claire turned in the direction of the teacher and, “Over Thanksgiving Break.”
The room was quiet for a moment, and then most of the faculty offered their congratulations. As they filed out of the room after the meeting, she noted that Ron and Nancy conspicuously hadn’t said a word.
AFTER WORK, STEVE stopped at home for a quick bite to eat before the school board meeting. Claire told him about the meeting with her staff.
“So most of them were fine with it,” Steve said. “But you think Ron and Nancy are upset? Why would they react that way?”
“I don’t know. I thought we were developing a good relationship.”
“Well, I guess you should try talking to them in private,” Steve said. “I’ll be telling the board the same news in a couple of hours.”
Two hours later, sitting through an hour of standard board meeting agenda, Steve asked the board to go into executive session. He motioned for Frank to follow.
“What’s he doing here?” John asked, staring at Frank.
“I asked him to join us,” Steve said.
In private chambers, Steve cleared his throat and said, “I have an announcement to make.” He looked around the table and understood why it had been so hard for Claire to tell her staff. He was having trouble, too. He braced himself and continued. “I got married over Thanksgiving Break.”
Everyone, except Frank, looked stunned. Jim Halloran looked down at his cell phone, and Steve assumed that was so no one could watch his expression.
“Well, congratulations, Steve,” Mary Hammond said. “I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell us you were getting married? Who’s the lucky bride?”
Steve took in a deep breath and said, “Uh, well, I married Claire Constantine.”
Mary’s mouth dropped open and she leaned back in her chair.
Jim Halloran feigned surprise and said, “I think that’s wonderful. You make a great couple. Congratulations.”
“I’d like to congratulate you too,” Josie Perez said.
“Are you all idiots?” John said.
Edward Malone said, “John, I don’t think I like your tone. I don’t like the fact that they kept their relationship hidden, but personally, I don’t have a problem with them being married. Hell, would you rather have them continuing to just date in secret?”
“I guess I don’t care if they’re together, either,” Peter Williams said. “If that’s what they want, what’s the problem, John? Would you want us telling you who you could or couldn’t marry?”
“The problem is that he’s her boss and he shouldn’t be involved with her at all,” John said. “We have policies that say teachers can’t marry administrators. You know that. All of you.” He waved a pointed finger.
“She’s not a teacher.”
“That’s irrelevant. It’s the same situation—she’s an employee who married an administrator, her boss.”
Actually, I’m her boss,” Frank said. “Well, at least I’m her immediate supervisor.”
“And Steve’s your boss,” John said. “That’s a problem.”
“Well, I supervise the principal at the school where my wife, Gloria, teaches and that principal is my wife’s boss,” Frank said. “Is that a problem, too?”
“Yes.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Frank said. “Does anyone agree with John?”
“No,” Jim said. “Look, I think we all agree that it’s inappropriate for a manager to supervise his or her own spouse. Our policy prohibits that, but I’m not aware of any policy against someone supervising his or her spouse’s boss.”
“I disagree,” John said. “We have a problem here.”
Steve rubbed his temples. “Actually, I’ve done some checking on my own. There have already been court cases on this subject. Bottom line, the courts have ruled that a school district that prohibits an employee from supervising a ‘near relative’, can transfer one of them to avoid the ‘perception of favoritism on the part of other members of the teaching faculty. But the policy cannot deny people the right to marry.”
“Where could we transfer her?” John asked. “You’re the damn boss.”
“That’s the point. I am not her boss. I am Frank’s ‘boss’. Frank is her supervisor. Frank is not a ‘near relative’. I invited him here today for you and he to witness me saying that if he belie
ves any of my direction shows favoritism, he may go directly to you with his concerns, and I answer to you.”
“Look,” Mary said, “we can’t sit here all night arguing. We have people waiting in the board room. Can we agree to move on for now, and debate this issue at another time?”
“I second that motion,” Jim said.
John opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, Jim said, “By the way, are you all aware that John Richmond’s daughter is a teacher in this school district? Just thought I’d point that out.”
John clamped his mouth shut.
CLAIRE WAS RELIEVED when Steve told her about the school board meeting.
Steve said, “You know, it’s my fault that you didn’t tell Ron and Nancy about us. I’m the one who said to keep it a secret from everyone. I’ll go to the school and talk to them. I’ll explain.”
“No, please don’t. I can’t have you coming to work to fix my problems. I would seem like a child. No. I have to figure this out on my own.” She leaned forward on the sofa and gave him a hug, and whispered, “I appreciate the thought, though.”
The next morning, Claire knocked on the door to Ron’s office and said, “Can we talk?”
“Whatever,” Ron said. He didn’t even look up from the paper he was working on.
“You are angry with me?”
“You picked up on that, huh.”
“Please, Ron. Please let me explain.”
He looked up, his mouth taut.
“We’re friends,” she said. “Friends have disagreements, squabbles, but they can usually work things out. If you’ll let me explain, we can work it out, too.”
“I don’t really want to talk to you.”
“Then don’t. Just listen.”
He ignored her.
“I wanted to tell you about Steve. You have no idea how many times I started to, but then I wasn’t sure. Not because I didn’t trust you, because I do. At first I didn’t even know whether or not Steve and I had a chance at a relationship. After the attack, I avoided him for a while.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to Nancy about a student.” He stood up and brushed past her, leaving her alone in his office.
Now what was she supposed to do? She’d meant what she’d said to Ron. He was her friend, and she didn’t want to lose him. They’d been through a lot together and she realized now, possibly too late, that she may have taken his friendship for granted.
Claire fought the urge to stay home the following day, but she had to go to the damn Round Table Luncheon in the afternoon.
She left school extra early this time, telling herself that it was because she didn’t want a repeat of the previous meeting. To her surprise, on the way there, she admitted to herself that she wanted to escape from her school. She entered Cameron High and waved at Steve, who was standing near Frank and a principal, Liz Olson.
Steve excused himself and walked over to Claire and she said, “It’s a miracle. I’m actually early.”
“I see. I’m glad you’re here.”
She gave him a tentative smile.”
“I wish there was something I could do to help. Did you talk to Ron again?”
“No. I’ll try later.”
He smiled, then said, “I wish I could stay and talk with you more, but I have to mingle. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. Frank walked in and seeing her, walked over and chuckled. “Well, well, I didn’t think I’d ever see the day when you’d beat me to a Round Table Luncheon. What happened?”
She laughed, and said, “I needed to stir things up a little around here. It was getting too boring.”
Several principals walked up and one of them, George Williams, said, “I hope the laughter means this meeting is going to be lighter than the previous meetings.”
Frank said, “I sure as hell hope so.”
Before long, the room filled up and when the last of the group arrived, John told everyone to take their seats. He looked around the room, and Claire felt his gaze rest on her. “Some of you may not have heard the latest news,” John said.
The principals looked around the table, and Liz Olson, the principal of Webster High School said, “What news?”
John continued. “At the last school board meeting, Steve Jensen announced that he and Claire Constantine got married.”
“What? Are you serious?” She looked perturbed. “I thought you didn’t date employees.”
Claire looked at Liz and then at Steve, and wondered what that was about. The group was silent for a minute, and Claire fidgeted under their speculative gazes.
Dan Greeley, the principal of Southwest High school, said, “Boy, you sure fooled me. I didn’t have a clue any of this was going on.”
“Yeah, Steve and Claire are pretty good at keeping secrets,” John said. “They seem to be masters of deception.”
Claire felt her face getting hotter as her temper flared. She looked at Steve. His eyes pleaded with her to stay calm.
Looking directly at John, Steve responded. “I wasn’t aware of a change of policy. What happened to keeping our private lives separate from our work lives? Hell, I don’t know everything about employees’ lives, or school board members’ lives for that matter. I don’t think I really want to know.”
Several people chuckled, and Manuel Rodriguez, one of the principals, said, “Did you know that John Richmond’s daughter teaches at my school?”
Everyone in the room turned and stared at Manuel.
Steve raised his eyebrows. “That, I just found out. How long has she been there, Manuel?”
“Funny you should ask. She started three years ago, right after her dad became school board president.”
Heads turned and all eyes were now staring at John. He shuffled papers and didn’t respond.
Steve glanced at Frank and they smiled conspiratorially. Then Steve opened his notebook and started the meeting.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LONNY CORRELLI TOOK one hand off the steering wheel of his rented Toyota Corolla, unzipped the bag sitting next to him, shuffling around in it to find his sunglasses. Damn, where the hell are they? He took his eyes off the road momentarily to seek the illusive target, heard a sudden honking, looked back up and swerved the car back into his lane to avoid a head on collision. God, that was close, he thought, shaking. Calming himself for a few seconds and being more careful this time, he quickly looked into the bag and spotted the damn eyewear sitting right on top in a corner. He pulled the sunglasses out of the bag and put them on.
Who woulda thought he would need them in Denver in winter? He’d only brought them on the plane by accident. He’d been wearing them on his drive to the Miami airport. Getting there late, he’d parked in the long-term lot, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and dashed into the airport. It wasn’t until he was inside that he realized he was still wearing the dark glasses. Now, driving away from Denver’s airport, the intense sun glaring off piles of hard-packed snow made him glad to have them.
The car in front of him slowed down and Lonny veered into the passing lane and gave the other driver the finger. Asshole. He hated slow drivers. Last time Lonny was in Denver must be two and a half years ago, during summer, with bicyclists and joggers everywhere. But nobody was stupid enough to be out jogging now. When his boss told him he was sending Lonny to Colorado in winter, his first impulse was to flat out refuse. But then he got an idea. Rent a car, do his work, and take a side trip up to Aspen. He’d heard he could rent skis and ski boots. Why not squeeze in some R&R since the boss was paying for the air fare?
Lonny stopped at a red light. He reached over to the side pocket of his bag again and pulled out his Denver map. Opening it up, he looked at the big circle he’d drawn before he’d left Miami. He looked at the street sign at the intersection to confirm he was where he thought he was, then mapped out the three turns he needed to make. Someone honked. The light was green. He looked in his rear-view mirror and gave the woman behind him the finger. His
foot slammed the gas medal. Tires spun, and the car went nowhere in the slick intersection. He swore, let off the gas, then accelerated more slowly this time and moved into the intersection, skidding sideways.
Damn, damn, damn. He managed to get the car back on track in time to see the woman pass him by and give him the finger. If he knew how to drive in the snow better, which apparently he did not, he would have taken off in pursuit of her.
He drove more carefully the rest of the way. Arriving at his destination, he parked next to a six-foot high mountain of snow that had been plowed from the parking lot of the old brick building. A big, ugly dumpster sat half buried next to the pile. Hmm, might come in handy.
He got out of the car, checked his coat pocket, pulled out a winter hat, and stuck it over his head and ears. Then he snatched the small briefcase sitting on the floor of the car and walked into the building, almost slipping on his ass on the way. Crap! Studying the tenant list, he finally saw the name he was looking for—Phillip Seger, PI, Suite 301. He climbed the stairs two steps at a time. When he reached the third floor, and began searching for the office number, he shook his head. They call these suites. More like hovels.
Pulling the door open, he stood looking around a dingy space. He’d expected to see—well, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. An outer office with a secretary, or at least two desks. A curly-haired man with wrinkled clothes stood up from where he’d been squatting in front of an open file cabinet, a file folder in hand.
“May I help you?”
“Looking for Phil Seger. That you?” The man nodded. “My boss sent me. Said you had information about Juliet Powell.”
Seger’s face lit up. “That I do.”
He rushed to his desk, sat down, dropped the file he’d been holding and picked up another file. “Before I hand this over I need to be paid. Your boss and I agreed on a sum. I assume the money’s in that briefcase you’re carrying.”
Lonny nodded, set down the briefcase and opened it, then turned it around for Seger to see. “It’s all there. Now give me the file.”
