Chapter Three
“You don’t seem to understand how important this is.” Winnie Michaels dabbed at the mascara running down her cheeks. “They’re fifth graders, for Pete’s sake. And it’s one lil’ bitty ol’ point, Annabeth.”
Annabeth kept her I’m-listening expression firmly in place. The principal before her, Davis Hamburg, had told her it was important to convey sincere empathy while never losing control of the situation. She’d been repeating this over and over for the past thirty minutes, but Annabeth and Winnie had been in the same class growing up and they hadn’t exactly been pals. Annabeth had been one of the lucky recipients of Winnie Michaels’s especially effective public shaming techniques. Winnie used to call her Annabeth Banana-breath and encouraged more than a few of her posse to chant along during gym class or recess. She received more than her fair share of banana bread, banana muffins, banana skins and browning bananas throughout her school years. It was ironic that the one thing Annabeth had craved when she was pregnant was bananas.
“That’s just it, Ms. Michaels. Kevin was two points from passing. He’d have to get his grade up to audition for a solo in the spring concert,” Mrs. Schulze, the music teacher, calmly explained.
But Annabeth didn’t say a thing. Kevin Michaels was a pain in her rear on a daily basis. He lied, cheated and picked on the younger kids—Cody among them. But when push came to shove, none of the kids would turn him in. Out of fear, she suspected, and there was nothing she could do about it. Kevin was just like his mom.
Winnie stared at her.
Annabeth stared back.
“I never thought you were the spiteful type,” Winnie spoke softly. “That you’d punish my son for our childhood rivalry.”
Mrs. Schulze looked acutely uncomfortable, glancing back and forth between the two of them expectantly.
Annabeth’s eye twitched. “Once Kevin gets his grade up—”
“He’ll be in middle school.” Winnie shook her head, opening her cavernous purse and digging around inside it. “This is his last concert here.” She pulled out a pair of gloves, three tubes of lipstick, a scarf, two phone chargers and a bag of what appeared to be pulverized goldfish crackers.
“He’ll still perform in the chorus, Ms. Michaels,” Mrs. Schulze tried again.
“With all the little kids.” Winnie sighed. “It’s embarrassing.”
“There are only four solo parts, Winnie,” Annabeth spoke calmly. “Over thirty kids signed up to audition for the solos.” She glanced at Mrs. Schulze, who nodded. “All of the other students will be in the chorus, that’s most of fourth and fifth grade. Even if Kevin’s grades were passing, there would be no guarantee he’d get a solo.”
Winnie pulled out a wadded-up handkerchief and blew her nose. “Well, I think this is unfair, that’s all there is to it.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Annabeth continued. “Did Kevin turn in the extra-credit assignments Mr. Glenn gave him?”
Winnie shrugged, shoving her things back into her purse. “You tell me, Annabeth. Since you know everything.”
Annabeth resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands.
“This was a waste of my time, plain and simple. You don’t like Kevin so you’re singling him out. I don’t know why we had this meeting,” Winnie sighed.
Because Winnie had called and called and been so rude to the school secretary that Annabeth had given in. She knew it was useless. Parents signed a grade contract at the beginning of every year, they knew that only passing students were allowed to participate in extra-curricular activities—from field trips to school performances. Why Winnie thought Kevin was different was a mystery. But she’d keep her mouth shut and her concerned expression in place until she was alone in her office.
“I know people on the school board—” Winnie started in.
“I encourage you to bring your concerns to them, Winnie,” Annabeth interrupted, stealing the other woman’s threat. “If you feel the grade contract is unfair, the school board should review the policy.”
Winnie pushed herself to her feet, scowling at Annabeth, then Mrs. Schulze. “I will. I will tell them my concerns. About you. And the way you’re running this school.” And with that Winnie Michaels stormed from her office.
“Can I get you anything, Ms. Upton?” Mrs. Schulze asked. “You look a little green around the gills.”
Annabeth smiled. “I’m not a fan of confrontation.”
“Well, you handled it like a pro. I’m sorry Kevin isn’t up for a solo—” Mrs. Schulze broke off, crossing her arms over her chest. “Actually, I’m not. I’m not the least bit torn up about it.”
Annabeth allowed herself a small grin. “It sounds like you have plenty of kids to audition. I’m sure you’ll pick the best for the parts.”
Mrs. Schulze nodded. “You go on home and get some rest. Don’t let this hiring nonsense get to you. Everyone at the school knows you’re the one for the job.”
“Thank you, that means a lot.” Annabeth shrugged. “Let’s hope the school board agrees.”
Mrs. Schulze paused in the doorway. “Cody does really well singing. Not one stutter. And he has a lovely voice. Just like his mama.”
Annabeth grinned after the retreating teacher. She was lucky to have such a supportive staff.
“Sorry.” Ken poked his head in. “Did I miss the meeting?”
“Yes.” She stood, putting away two of the student files she’d pulled earlier in the day.
“How did Winnie take it?” he asked, leaning against the door.
Annabeth rested her hip against the desk. “She wasn’t pleased.” Which was why he’d missed the meeting. No one wanted to get on Winnie’s bad side. But that was part of the job, following the protocol and enforcing the procedures in place—even if it meant an unhappy parent now and then. “But that’s the necessity of the grade contract. Mr. Glenn tried to accommodate Kevin but he didn’t do the extra credit.”
Ken nodded.
She went back to straightening her desk, more than ready to leave for the weekend. “Anything else we need to talk about?” she asked nonchalantly.
“I’m interviewing for the position next week,” he offered. “I know things could get awkward, but it’s business, after all.”
She looked at him, hoping she looked enthusiastic rather than nauseous. “Of course, Ken. I appreciate the heads-up. Good luck. I’m sure it will go well.” She wished she could mean it, she really did. But it was the right thing to say.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’m not a big believer in luck, Annabeth. It’s all about working hard and fighting for what you want. And, to be frank, I want this position. But I hear I’m not the only one they’re interviewing.” He was watching her closely. “Besides you, it’s me and two others. One from San Antonio and one from Illinois, with years of experience from what I hear.” His laugh was forced. “Since that’s something neither of us have, looks like a tough race is ahead.”
Perfect. Just what she wanted to hear. Her phone rang.
“I’ll let you get that.” He pushed off the door frame. “Enjoy your weekend. Get some rest, you’re looking worn-out.”
“Night, Ken. You, too,” she said before answering the phone. “Annabeth Upton,” she snapped.
“Um... Hey, stranger,” came Josie Boone’s voice. “I was hoping to take you out to dinner tomorrow night. Sounds like you could use it.”
“God, yes.” Annabeth collapsed into her desk chair. “Just promise there will be wine.”
“Tough week?” Josie asked.
“You could say that.” She yawned. “I’m not sure I can get a sitter—”
“Bring him over to my dad’s. He and Lola can play checkers or make cookies,” Josie cut her off. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Why wouldn
’t I be?” She sighed, knowing she sounded defensive.
Josie laughed. “Well, you sound pretty wound up.”
“Sorry,” she groaned. “Guess I am.” She powered down her computer. “I’ll try to shake off the attitude before then, I promise. I’m picking up some fried chicken and watching a superhero movie with Cody tonight.”
“A superhero movie, huh? Will there be a shirtless scene?”
“If I’m very lucky.” She grinned. “Not all of us get to go home to a hunky husband.”
“I am one lucky woman,” Josie agreed. “So, tomorrow?”
“Sounds good. I’ll call Lola first and make sure it’s okay with her.”
“Okay. Text me later. And enjoy your date with Cody.”
Five minutes later she was collecting Cody from the gym. “Sorry I was a few minutes late, Cody.”
“It’s fine, Ma. Look.” Cody started dribbling the basketball.
“Wow.” She put her hands on her hips. “Look who’s a dribbling pro.”
“Coach taught me.” Cody was still all smiles.
“Principal Upton?” A very fit, very handsome man approached. “Coach Goebel, just started. I’m subbing for Coach Hernandez while he’s recovering from his back surgery.”
She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Ken was in charge of all the substitutes, so meeting Coach Goebel was a surprise. Even more so because none of the teachers had mentioned him. Well, they might have. She’d been a little preoccupied with her upset stomach—and Winnie. But still, she could only imagine what the reaction to Coach Goebel had been. It wasn’t every day a new, good-looking man came to town—married or not.
“You, too.” He nodded. “Cody’s a natural with a basketball.”
She ruffled Cody’s hair. “His dad was, too.”
“Does he still play?” Coach Goebel asked, watching Cody dribble in a wide circle.
“Who? Cody’s dad?” Annabeth drew in a deep breath. “No, Greg was killed in Afghanistan about six years ago.” It was getting easier to say. The ache was there, but the pain didn’t bring her to her knees anymore.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I lost a lot of buddies. Nice to be back and part of the world again. Don’t miss it over there.”
“You were military?” she asked.
“Army.” He nodded. “Now, I’m a substitute coach. Single, carefree and loving every minute of it.”
She heard the way he stressed single and looked at him. “Guess it’s a pretty big change of pace?”
He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling nicely. “No complaints.”
“Well, thanks for keeping Cody occupied while I closed up shop.”
“It was fun.” He shook his head. “Principal Upton—”
“Call me Annabeth.”
“Bryan.” He swallowed, clearly interested. “It was really nice talking to you, Annabeth.”
Bryan Goebel was the last thing she needed. Besides the distraction he was likely to cause amongst her single and desperate staffers, he was a threat. All it would take was one look, one misconstrued conversation, and her already precarious employment situation would become ten times worse. God, Ken would have a field day... Her thoughts came to a screeching halt. “How did you hear about the position? Stonewall Crossing’s a little off the beaten path.”
“Ken.” Bryan Goebel grinned. “We go way back. I was thinking about a change of scenery. And he can be very persuasive.”
Annabeth forced a smile. I’ll bet. “Ken’s always thinking.” He was such an ass. “You ready, Cody?”
Cody nodded, dribbling the ball to the storage closet, and then running back to her side.
“You have a good weekend,” Coach Goebel called after her.
“You, too, Coach,” Cody answered.
Annabeth nodded in return, but her smile was forced. She’d like to think Ken was just helping out a former serviceman and friend. But she knew Ken. After all, he’d just said he’d fight for the job. And using a hot, single guy would definitely cause talk, if not serious problems, for her.
Right now, she had bigger things to worry about. She couldn’t ignore it anymore, she had to get answers. She only hoped the answers were the ones she wanted.
* * *
RYDER KICKED THE blankets off and sat up. His phone was ringing. His pulse was racing ninety-to-nothing, his heart in his throat.
“Yeah?” he grumbled.
“Ryder?” It was Annabeth.
“What’s wrong?” He rubbed a hand over his face, glancing at the alarm clock. It was midnight. “Everything okay?” Which was a stupid question. She wouldn’t be calling if it was.
“No.” She sounded strange, tense.
He froze, waiting for more information. “Annabeth?”
“Can you come over?” Her voice broke. “Now, please?”
He stood, pulling on his jeans. “On my way.”
“Thanks,” she murmured before hanging up.
He tucked the phone in his pocket, hurriedly tugging on a black T-shirt and leather jacket, and hopping into his boots as he headed out the door. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, clearing his mind, before starting his motorcycle and heading toward Annabeth’s place.
He wasn’t a worrier by nature—he’d always sort of rolled with what life gave him. But the panic in Annabeth’s voice had triggered an immediate response. She didn’t scare easy. Or get rattled. Annabeth was solid, grounded...
She was home, not at the hospital—which meant she, Cody and Flo weren’t injured or sick. Which was good. Still, she had called him, so there was something seriously wrong. He parked in her driveway. Her living room and kitchen windows were illuminated.
The door opened before he had time to knock. Annabeth stood just inside, pale, with red-rimmed eyes. He stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him. “Hi.”
She nodded, sniffing. “Can you...can you sit down? I need to talk...we need to talk.”
“Everyone’s okay?” he asked, adrenaline and anxiety coursing through his veins.
She had a hard time meeting his gaze. “Cody and Flo are fine.” Her hazel eyes finally met his. “I’m sorry I woke you. And called you over...”
“It’s fine.” He rubbed her arms, his eyes searching hers. “All good.”
She nodded, waiting for him to sit before she took a deep breath. “I know it’s late... Actually I didn’t realize how late it was.” She frowned. “My mind wouldn’t shut off. And I knew it couldn’t wait. I mean, it could, but it couldn’t—you know?”
No, he didn’t know.
“Let me start by saying, I know you. I have no intention of attempting to change who you are.” She was fidgeting, twisting her hands in front of her. “But what sort of person would I be if I didn’t tell you?”
Ryder leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. What the hell was she talking about? “Annabeth—”
“I have two charts,” she said, holding up one finger before hurrying into her small kitchen. She returned with two poster boards. Each had some sort of graph, with different color tabs and her clean script in the margins. “Option A or Option B. I’ve mapped out how much time we have, how we can handle this, who needs to be involved... I’m thinking the fewer the better.”
Ryder glanced at the two boards, but it didn’t clear anything up. “Annabeth—”
“Hold your questions,” she interrupted. “Or I’ll never get it all out.”
He ran a hand over his face, sighed and sat back in the chair. Sure, why not? Not like he had someplace to be—like bed. Sleeping. “Shoot.”
“Okay.” She nodded, smiling tightly. “Okay. So, we’re six weeks or so in. There’s another couple of months before it goes public.” She held up the two posters. “Option A is with you temporar
ily, Option B is without.” She shrugged. “John mentioned something about a Dallas job when I picked up Lady Blue? Is that happening?”
He nodded, slowly answering, “It’s a done deal.”
“Well, congratulations.” She scanned her posters, putting the Option A poster behind the couch. “I guess that’s the question then. I’m sure you’re excited to get out of Stonewall Crossing. I can do this on my own. No need to mess things up for you.” She sat opposite him, gripping her poster.
“Princess,” he murmured, smiling at her scowl. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh.” She blinked, placing the poster facedown on her cluttered coffee table. “Ryder, I... We are...” She sucked in a deep breath and shook her head.
He heard that strange nervous tension in her voice and moved to crouch in front of her. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”
“I won’t.” She sniffed. “I’m stronger than that.”
“Don’t I know it.” He didn’t resist the urge to smooth a strand of her long hair. The way she was looking at him...as if her world was falling apart and she needed rescuing... She wanted him here, but she still hadn’t said why. This from a woman who was never short on words or opinions.
But she didn’t say a thing. She just sat there, tense, quiet and pale.
He’d never wanted to hold someone as much as he wanted to hold her, right now. He said the first thing that came to mind. “Like the pajamas.”
She ran her hands over her knees—clad in pale blue flannel pajamas, covered in rainbows and butterflies. “Cody got them for me last Christmas. Greg’s folks took him shopping. They’re my movie night pj’s.”
“What did you watch?” he asked, looking at the half-eaten bowl of popcorn and the empty juice box containers.
“Superman.” Her eyes were huge, boring into him with an intensity he felt deep in his bones. He ran his thumb along her temple, tucking a long strand of golden hair behind her ear. Touching her seemed to ground him, to ease the growing anxiety in his chest.
Twins for the Rebel Cowboy Page 4
