“Good. Please read through the booklet carefully. The morals clause has been enforced in the past, and will be again, if violated. That being said, it doesn’t mean you can’t relax, and let your hair down now and then, but when you do, just remember Braden is a very small, tightly-knit community. There are no secrets here.”
“I understand. I’ve signed similar documents in the past. Can I see the lab and the textbooks I’ll be using—that is of course if you’re going to hire me?” She smiled.
Instantly, he felt a little like a snake under the eye of a mongoose. One false move and he was done. “Of course. You are prepared to start a week Monday?”
“I am, and if the school board doesn’t approve me for the position, I assume you’ll add me to the replacement teacher list?”
“That’s a given, but I can assure you, the board will endorse my choice, and if your references pan out … If you’ll come this way, I’ll take you up to the lab.”
Twenty minutes later, he stood at the front door of the school watching her cross to the red convertible sports car parked next to his truck. That baby had to have set her back at least thirty thousand. A rather extravagant vehicle for a schoolteacher, but maybe she came from money. Someone was bound to comment on it soon enough, and as he’d said, there were no secrets in Braden. The rumor mill ran rampant. He allowed her to take copies of the textbooks she’d be using.
Unless there was something unexpected in her references, it looked like Ms. Thomas would fill one of the spaces in his staff roster. It would be an interesting year in more ways than one.
The car pulled away smoothly from the lot, and Jackson turned to leave almost knocking Mary down in the process. His secretary was a handsome woman—strong, healthy, and good looking—but not one to make a man’s testosterone level skyrocket just by entering the room the way Micah Thomas did.
He noted her smug smile was still in place. “You could’ve warned me,” he growled.
“What? And miss that flummoxed look on your face? Not on your life. She doesn’t look like any math-science teacher I’ve ever met, but that could keep those senior boys from cutting class. I looked her up on the Internet, and everything looks good. I even found an article on the society page that said her engagement to some local rich guy in San Diego was cancelled by mutual consent—that’s a euphemism for being taken to the dump as my granddaughter would say. Poor thing. If you can look like that and still get dumped, the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”
“Mary, don’t give me that. You and Earl have been together for over forty years. Besides, looks aren’t everything,” he said, thinking of Naomi Stern, his ex-fiancée. The woman had been beautiful on the outside, but she’d been selfish and spiteful on the inside. “A pretty face can hide an ugly heart. Is my next interview here yet?”
“No, but he should be soon. Mr. Ford called and apologized. He’s running late. Traffic from Cedar Rapids is slowed down because of an accident involving a hay wagon. I was surprised you didn’t agree to meet with the other applicant.”
“There was a note in his online file from his previous school that suggested he might not be a good fit for us. He had a DWI conviction ten years ago, and you and I both know, even though there’s been nothing since, I’d be in trouble with the board if I tried to hire him. Despite the fact the mayor owns a bar, with that on his record, the guy would have a better chance at winning Powerball than getting a teaching job here. I have to admire his honesty. I almost wish I could give him a chance, but … Harlan Ford expressed an interest in coaching the junior varsity teams. Coach Gibbons doesn’t have time to do both, not if he wants some of those boys to go to the state championships in both wrestling and basketball. We aren’t good enough in football yet, although winning that championship ten years ago was something folks still talk about, but maybe in another year or two we can take a crack at that one again.”
“Having a former NFL player on staff will certainly raise the school’s prestige,” Mary agreed.
“It would.” Jackson followed Mary back to the administrative center and went into his office. As he’d expected, Micah’s references were glowing. As far as he was concerned, the job was hers. While Micah said she wasn’t husband hunting, if he was really lucky, she would hit it off with one of the guys in town, and decide to settle down here—it wouldn’t be him, though. He wasn’t about to court another drop-dead, gorgeous woman. Been there, done that, and didn’t like the aftermath. The phone rang, and he answered.
“Mr. Ford’s here,” Mary informed him.
“Send him right in.”
By the time four o’clock came around, Jackson was well-satisfied with his day. He’d enjoyed his interview with Harlan Ford, a former professional football player who’d blown out his knee fifteen years ago, and had gone into teaching. Recently widowed, he’d opted to leave the school he’d been with in El Centro, California and get away from the painful memories of losing his wife. He had a fifteen-year-old daughter, Sarah, who’d be coming to the school, too. The ebony-skinned man had a great sense of humor, and still looked like the all-star running back he’d been. He wouldn’t have any trouble getting the kids to listen to him, and with him working with the younger kids, that varsity state football championship might be a real possibility in a few more years.
The hardest decision he needed to make was the one for the middle school language and history teacher. Two of the candidates were recent graduates, and as much as he would love to give a new teacher a break, neither one had the exact qualifications he wanted. He would send them each letter offering to add them to his replacement teacher list if they were staying in the area.
The third, Randal Curry, a guy in his early-forties was unusual—still wore bow ties and where the hell did he find those? His qualifications were perfect, and since this was a one-year job because Elsie Mathers was on extended maternity leave, he’d been quite happy with the arrangement. He liked to move around, preferring short-term contracts to long ones. His last school had been in Midland, Texas, where he had taught English, Spanish, and history for the last two years, and the references he’d provided were excellent.
While grade six, seven and eight students could be a little difficult at times, with all those newly minted hormones coursing through their bodies, for the most part, the kids at BCR behaved themselves. That wasn’t to say they couldn’t get rambunctious at times, but toilet papering the trees outside his house, tipping over a couple of the remaining outhouses in the area, and stealing a garden gnome here and there were as bad as it got. While some of them enjoyed playing with fire and might be susceptible to drugs, he would make sure to give Ms. Jacobson their names before they could get into any trouble.
He fired off an email with the names of his proposed staff, their qualifications, and his personal comments to the school board. Someone would get back to him tomorrow. They knew how important it was to be fully staffed for the first day. With that out of the way, he reached for the paperwork he received on the Healthy Living Initiative and his other headache, Ms. E. L. Jacobson.
He was reviewing the program notes when his office door opened. “I’m off,” Mary said. “I won’t be in until noon Thursday. Tomorrow is my day off, and I have to take Nancy into Waterloo to get her eyes checked.”
“Okay. I’ll walk you out, then I’m going to see Quinn about a haircut. Ms. Jacobson is coming in next Friday. Can you make a lunch reservation at the Worthington House for three around twelve thirty?”
“I’ll do it right now. Three?”
“Yeah, I’ve invited Mabel to join me in welcoming her.”
Mary laughed. “You can be a devious man, Jackson. Let’s just hope they hit it off, and you don’t end up caught in the middle.”
“What’s the worst that can happen? They’ve got to learn to work together. I have to assume the FDA’s on site specialist is smart enough not to tread on toes wearing cleats. Everyone understands the push towards healthier living. Mabel doesn’t have to like her, but
she’s going to have to work with her. Besides, it’s only for a year, right?”
Mary laughed. “Dream on.”
Chapter Three
Emily finished emptying the last of the boxes Kyle had shipped to her via Chicago, stretched her aching back as she massaged her sore hip, and reached over to plug in the kettle. She’d arrived in town just after nine this morning, having left Chicago before five to avoid the morning traffic rush. After stopping for a bite to eat along the way, she’d come straight to her new apartment. Thank God for GPS.
While being on the ground floor wouldn’t have been her first choice, discovering that the building didn’t have an elevator explained its necessity. The ramp up to the front door would make it easy for her to come and go even if she had to use the wheelchair, not that she expected to, but she had to be prepared. Obviously, Kyle had briefed Rick on her disability even before he’d spoken to her. It wasn’t really surprising since he’d known she would moved heaven and earth to get this assignment.
If the fire alarm went off during the night, she wouldn’t be able to take the time to attach her leg before leaving, and while she could use the crutches, the wheelchair would be faster, especially during the spring and summer months. She could slip out of the apartment onto her patio and from there, to the lawn. Conscious of her promise to Kyle not to take chances, she checked the lock on the sliding door, noting it was a heavy duty one with a bar insert to stop anyone from opening it. For added safety, the glass had wire embedded in it, so no one could smash it to enter the apartment. If she wanted to leave the door open for air, there was a heavy iron grate that pulled across and attached to the wall with a padlock. She would probably use it most of the time, just to be on the safe side.
She limped over to the patio door, and opened it. The evening air was muggy, proof that summer still had a firm grip on the region. Whoever had furnished the apartment for her had added a table and chairs for outside as well as a lounger and a small gas barbecue, which Elias Manning, the superintendent, and his teenaged son, Joey, had assembled for her. They’d been a great help, moving the furniture around and putting things together as need. She had slipped them each fifty bucks as a thank you.
Gazing up at the sky, she noted the heavy, dark clouds, and scowled. There was another plus to being on the ground floor. In the event Mother Nature decided to strike again, the bathroom had no windows and could act as a safe room if needed.
The kettle whistled. Returning to the small kitchen, she made herself a cup of mint tea. She’d overdone it today, as she had the last week since getting the assignment, and her stump hurt almost as much as he hip did, but she needed to stay busy. She needed make an appointment with the doctor in town as soon as she could. So far, there were just a couple of tender spots to worry about and the lidocaine took care of them most of the time, but her lower back hurt—probably because she was putting too much stress on the right leg to compensate.
Leaving the home, she has shared with Alex, had been heart wrenching, especially when she’d walked through the mint green and powder blue room that would’ve been the baby’s. Since then, she’d only had one emotional meltdown when she’d unpacked her wedding picture. Alex had looked handsome in his marine uniform, but she barely resembled the woman in the photograph, and she hadn’t been able to hold back the tears. She placed the photograph on the dresser in her bedroom, but opted to leave the other photo albums of the two of them in the box she’d put on the closet shelf in the room she’d chosen to use as an office.
The picture of her six months pregnant was in there too, and while she would never put it out again, she couldn’t bring herself to throw it away. Alex and their stillborn son had been cremated together and the small, sealed wooden chest was also on the cupboard shelf. Someday, she might be able to have it interred, but for now, she needed to keep her family close.
Sipping her tea, she scanned the open concept kitchen, dining area, and living room. The only photograph she would put out was the one of her parents taken on their fortieth anniversary last spring. With her dad’s recent transfer to Rock Island, Illinois, she was closer to home here, but Mom was upset she’d taken this case. She’d lost one child to the drug trade, she didn’t want to lose another. Dad, a career military man, knew the importance of following through and eliminating an enemy target.
Glancing up at the clock, Emily’s stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten since before noon when Lisa Manning had brought in those delicious banana muffins. It was well after six, and she hadn’t taken the time to go shopping for groceries, something she needed do tomorrow when she dropped in on the sheriff.
Elias had said she could get a decent meal at Buddy’s Bar only a few blocks away. Going into a bar alone wasn’t something she usually did, but she didn’t feel like changing to go to the Worthington Arms. The only other places she knew of that served food were Braden Buttery Bites, which was closed at this time of day, and The Hart, another pub on the far side of town, so it was the bar or nothing.
Opening the sliding door, she stepped out onto the stone patio and sat on the lounger for a few moments of peace and relaxation while she finished her tea. The last thing she wanted to do was go out in public tonight, but she had to eat. She had already skipped too many meals because she didn’t have the heart to eat alone, but that stopped now. She’d picked up new clothes in Chicago since most of hers no longer fit, but she’d kept a few of her favorite T-shirts. Baggy or not, they were comfortable and who the hell did she have to impress anyway?
Listening to the rolling thunder, she sighed, hoping the storm wouldn’t bring on another nightmare, and wondered again if she could skip this meal, but her stomach grumbled almost as loudly as the thunder, and she giggled. “Got it. No more missing meals,” she said leaning back in the chair, enjoying the quiet of the evening. The home she’d shared with Alex had been in a neighborhood filled with the almost incessant sounds of children at play, barking dogs, and traffic in the distance.
The bright, red and yellow floral cushions made the chair comfortable, and the overhanging balcony above would provide a roof to keep the pads dry in the rain, so she wouldn’t have to drag them in and out each day. Exhausted, she yawned and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the late summer roses that edged her small patio. Someone had a green thumb, and she hoped they would keep looking after the delicate blossoms. She would probably kill them if she tried.
While there would be a storm later tonight, there was another advantage to a ground floor apartment. It might be warm and humid out here, but it was cool and comfortable inside. Ceiling fans circulated the air, and even if she left the windows open, the fancy iron grillwork over them would ensure no one could get into the apartment at night. Some people might have found it confining, but to her, knowing she was in town specifically to stop the Chef, a homicidal sociopath, they were a comforting touch.
She sat up once more and checked her watch. Pulling the cellphone out of her pocket, she opened up the messaging window to check in as she’d promised to do. The first message went to Kyle. “Have arrived in Braden. Everything is fine.” The second one she sent to her new supervisor in Chicago. “All settled in. The place is great. Thank whoever’s responsible.”
Finishing her tea, she rose to put away the cup and get ready to go out. Her limp was a little worse than usual, but she didn’t think it necessitated the use of a cane or crutch. Going back inside, she closed and locked the sliding door.
Half an hour later, hair brushed and pulled into a ponytail, fresh lip gloss in place, she drove into one of the restricted parking spaces in front of Buddy’s, a square box of a building with neon signs in the windows advertising some of the beer brands sold inside. She hadn’t bothered to change, and while her T-shirt and jeans might not be immaculate, they were still clean. She hadn’t unpacked her suitcases yet, and probably wouldn’t until tomorrow.
Making sure her special parking permit was clearly visible through the windshield, she got out of the car. T
hunder rumbled again in the distance, and she cursed the fact she’d forgotten to grab her raincoat on the way out. Maybe she should get her food to go and get back to the apartment before the skies opened up.
Locking the vehicle, she limped over to the front door, opened it, and stepped inside the air conditioned bar. Glancing around, she saw it was the kind of place Alex would’ve loved. The atmosphere was a homey one, typical of bars in small towns as opposed to the glitz and glamor of the big chain taverns found in El Paso. The gray, concrete floors would be much easier to clean than carpets, although she would bet a lot of bottle and glasses got broken on busy nights. The hunter green walls and dark ceilings made the place seem cozy, almost intimate, until you looked at the gleaming oak bar that ran the width of the place, behind which was a fortune in eclectic sports memorabilia—everything from old ball gloves and pennants to an MMA Championship belt. In amongst the sports paraphernalia, was the picture of a baby girl, something a proud mama or papa would display for all to see. Emily swallowed her pain and opted to avoid the counter. Maybe she would get her food to go after all.
There were half a dozen men standing or sitting at the bar, most of them still dressed in what they’d probably worn on their job sites. One man with red hair and a face full of freckles seemed vaguely familiar, but it was the dark haired man in a short-sleeved, powder blue shirt and dress pants who caught her attention. As her father would’ve said, he’d just had his ears lowered as the tan lines at the side of his face and neck testified, but it was his resemblance to Alex that stopped her in her tracks.
He looked her up and down appraisingly the way men sometimes did, and she fought the urge to squirm, well aware that she’d been the first one to stare. Having a man look at her that way shouldn’t have bothered her since it had happened to her time and again before the accident, but back then she’d been someone worthy of a second glance. Now, she resembled an anorexic teenager, not a woman deserving of admiring looks.
Secrets and Lies (Hearts Of Braden Book 4) Page 4
