“Yes, sir.”
“The parent protest in front of the Special Services building yesterday morning?”
“Yes, sir.” Lucy’s mouth grew dry, and she licked her lips.
“Word has it that you and Miss Halley conspired to let those parents use a classroom last week in order to organize their demonstration.”
She closed her eyes.
“Is it true?” he asked sharply.
She opened her eyes, nodded, and pursed her lips.
Mr. Wade sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “Mrs. Perez, you are not going to excuse yourself by telling me that after eight years with the district you are unaware of the procedure required in order for classrooms to be made available for public use.”
“No, sir.” Her voice refused to rise above a whisper.
The pause that followed judged, convicted, and hung her. She looked down again, unable to meet the principal’s accusing glare, knowing with a twisted stomach what was coming.
“You remember the incident two years ago when you had that run-in with a parent?”
Lucy’s gut feeling hadn’t steered her wrong. Mr. Wade remembered. And, being the man of integrity that he was, was going to follow through on what he had said back then. Still, she wasn’t about to go down without a fight.
She sat up straighter in her chair and forced herself to look him in the eyes. “I remember. But helping a hurting mother to find a place to meet with other concerned parents is hardly the same thing as what happened two years ago.”
Mr. Wade leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. “What did I tell you two years ago?”
Lucy’s throat constricted. “That if I ever failed to follow proper school district procedure in anything ever again, you would terminate my employment.”
“And you know I am a man of my word.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Wade sat back and sighed, looking genuinely disturbed. “It’s hard to find good help, and I wish I didn’t have to do this. I’ve decided to make it a little easier for you and allow you to resign.”
Lucy frowned. “Pardon me?”
“It will look better on your resumé and job applications if you leave this position voluntarily instead of getting fired.” He offered her a small smile. “And I would not feel remiss in providing you with a good reference.”
“Even though I broke the precious school rules twice in two years?” she shot back.
“Try not to get another job in the district,” Mr. Wade replied dryly.
Lucy stood, then sank back into her chair as Erin’s contrite face flashed through her head. “You – you didn’t fire Erin, did you? Or ask her to leave? It was really all my – “
Mr. Wade waved his hand. “Her position is secure, as long as her first offense remains a first offense.”
That was one load off her mind. Lucy was already going to have to face the wrath of her husband over this, plus deal with the guilt of having risked family turmoil by her actions. She did not want to feel responsible for the termination of another school staff member as well. She got up again, weariness suddenly seeping into her legs. “Is that all?”
The principal looked down at his desk calendar. “I plan to have hired a new secretary by the eighteenth.”
“Office manager,” Lucy couldn’t help correcting on her way out. At the threshold, she turned, mustering up all the courtesy she could. “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Wade. And, thank you. For…letting me quit.” Words she’d never thought she’d hear coming out of her mouth.
Chapter Nine
Although he could well afford it – being a V.P., even a local one, of a major company had its advantages – Preston usually didn’t see a doctor. He was only seeing one now on a bet.
Out of the blue, Carly had e-mailed him a couple of weeks ago and bet him fifty bucks that if he had routine blood work done, it would show signs of imperfect health. His first reaction had been anger. But he didn’t reply, just ignored the e-mail for several days. Finally, a primitive urge to win rose up inside him. He knew his numbers would turn out normal. As far as he could tell his only health challenges were afternoon fatigue and a slight protrusion in his belly, but he chalked both of these small issues up to age.
His reply to his health-crazy sister: “Deal. I’ll copy you the result by the end of next month. Look forward to receiving your check in the mail.”
Giving up his blood last week had taken only a few minutes, but he knew that even if the doctor had nothing to say to him he would likely not be seen until at least twenty minutes past his appointment time. So he had left work an hour early, instructing his secretary to have anyone who called leave him a voice mail on his office phone. Now, he relaxed in a cushy upholstered chair, flipping through an old copy of People and doing his best to ignore the heavy breathing and snorting coming from a fat, white-haired man on the other side of the small waiting room.
Twenty-five minutes after his scheduled appointment, the nurse took him back into an exam room where he waited another fifteen minutes to see the doctor. Not two minutes later, he dropped the bombshell. “You’re pre-diabetic and have high cholesterol.”
This was Dr. Lester’s response to Preston’s request to give him the bad news first. Of course, he was being facetious. He had been sure there wasn’t going to be any bad news.
Preston stared. “But – but…I’m not overweight. I exercise four days a week. Usually. How can this happen?”
The doctor shrugged. “Everybody’s different. I’ve seen stranger.” He went on to relate the good news – that those were the only two anomalies discovered by the blood tests – and explain that before prescribing a drug, he would like Preston to try changing his diet.
“Great. Cardboard and sticks,” Preston muttered on his way out of the office as he glanced over the recommendations for lowering both blood sugar and cholesterol. At least half of his company’s products were suddenly on the forbidden list.
He made his way down the hall, took the elevator down to the first floor, and stepped out when the doors opened.
And nearly walked into the woman who had entranced him yesterday.
**********
“Oh!” In her haste, Cynthia almost collided with the man stepping out of the elevator. She and Melissa were already five minutes late for their appointment. After discharging the girl from the hospital, Dr. Hill had recommended that they check in after a week to make sure all her vitals were still normal, and answer a few questions to make sure Melissa’s recovery had stuck. Not wanting Melissa to miss any school, Cynthia had made the appointment for 4:30.
But a second after the near-collision, she forgot about being late. Standing before her was the man she had spoken to at the demonstration yesterday. By the look in his eyes and the smile that suddenly appeared on his face, he recognized her, as well.
“I’m so sorry.” He extended his hand and touched her forearm as she stepped backward to catch her balance.
She laughed. “I’m the one in a hurry.”
“Always let the people on the elevator get off before you get on.” This from Melissa, who was standing next to her, and looking up at her with reproach in her eyes.
Cynthia nodded, then glanced back at the man – whose name had completely escaped her. “This is my daughter, Melissa.”
He immediately turned his gaze to her and offered his hand, shaking it gently when Melissa took it. “So nice to meet you, Melissa. I’m glad to see you’re well.”
Her daughter shot Cynthia a puzzled glance. “Uh, Mom, am I supposed to know this guy?”
“Preston Brenner,” he gave a little bow, “at your service.”
Preston. Cynthia forced the name into her memory. “We met yesterday. He was going into the building as we were finishing the demonstration.”
“And you are Cynthia, yes?”
“Yes.”
A long pause. Awkward. As if they both wanted to say something more, but weren’t sure what. An elderly man with a wal
ker and his more able-bodied wife excused themselves and got into the elevator.
“Mom, you said we were late.”
“A little bit.” Cynthia looked at her daughter. “Sweetheart, would you mind sitting on that bench over there for a minute?”
Melissa let out an exasperated sigh, a foreshadowing of teenage behavior to come. “All right.” She went, and sat.
Cynthia turned back to Preston, lowering her voice. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday…” What on earth was she thinking? She couldn’t tell this perfect stranger that his holding her hand for so long hadn’t been inappropriate. What kind of message would that send? She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.
So, what is the right idea?
Preston cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I should really let you get to your appointment.” He began to walk away.
Cynthia began to let him. He’d misunderstood. And that was fine with her. She was going through a major deal right now, and didn’t have time to spend mooning over a man.
But she just couldn’t let him go.
“I mean that when you said – “
“I really am sorry about – “ They both spoke at once as Preston turned back to her. Both laughed awkwardly.
Preston gestured toward her. “Ladies first.”
Cynthia took a deep breath, making sure to lower her voice again since Melissa was now staring at them intently. “When you held my hand, you apologized and said it was inappropriate. It wasn’t. Not at all.” She pushed the words out in a torrent, so she wouldn’t have a chance to change her mind.
To get scared.
Preston’s smile faded. “I would think your husband might disagree.”
“He’s in heaven.”
Cynthia felt a tug on her arm. “Mom, we really need to go.” Melissa cast a suspicious glance toward Preston.
Cynthia sighed. The girl was right. “Press the button again.” She turned back to say something more, but he was already walking toward the front doors at a fast clip. Maybe he sensed that Melissa didn’t like him.
She probably shouldn’t set her sights on a guy who couldn’t stick around long enough to find out if a woman is interested in him, but she couldn’t help feeling a little irritated toward Melissa as they got into the elevator. “Missy, that was rude.” Cynthia only ever called her the nickname when she was annoyed with her.
No answer. Melissa stared at the elevator buttons, pouting.
“Melissa.”
A pause and a sigh. Then, “I don’t want another dad.” Her daughter’s voice had grown small, and higher-pitched, more like that of a three-year-old than a ten-year-old.
Cynthia couldn’t help laughing. “Boy, that’s an assumption if I ever heard one.”
Melissa jerked her head around, eyes full of fire. “He looked at you the way Daddy used to look at you.”
“He did not.” And how would she remember, anyway? She’d only been six when Justin had been killed.
“Yes, he did.”
The elevator stopped and opened, and she followed Melissa out, gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “Melissa.”
In response, her daughter crossed her arms and glared at the wall.
“I’m not looking for another husband. Or boyfriend, as far as that goes. Not right now.”
Melissa spun around, tears glistening in her eyes. “Not ever, Mom! You hear me?” She spat the words out in whispered fury.
Cynthia opened her arms, and Melissa threw herself into them, sobbing. Cynthia wasn’t sure what to make of it; she didn’t generally make scenes in public or easily cry. So she just stroked her hair for a minute, shushing into her ear, and hoping that Melissa’s erratic behavior wasn’t being caused by the coma or anything she’d eaten.
She also wondered if they would still be allowed in the doctor’s office; it must have been approaching five o’clock by now.
They ended up being just in time, and they left twenty minutes after arriving with a good report. Melissa was suffering no after-effects from whatever had caused her bodily trauma last week. The suspense of finding out must have been weighing on her as much as it had on Cynthia, because when they left the office Melissa walked with buoyant steps and a big smile on her face, looking and acting happier than she had for at least a couple of days.
“Honey, were you worried about what the doctor was going to say?” she asked her daughter as they left the clinic building.
“A little.”
A downplay, most certainly. Maybe her worry was what had made her overreact to Cynthia’s conversation with Preston. The thought of his smile warmed her heart again, and made her wonder if the unexpected encounter today could have been mere coincidence. What were the chances two strangers in a city of this size would see each other the very next day after meeting for the first time in a completely different place?
She shook her head as if she could shake the memory of Preston’s touch on her arm right out. Melissa’s feelings aside, now was not a good time to be contemplating a relationship. Cynthia was a woman on a mission; besides, what if this guy didn’t understand the new diet she and Melissa had just undertaken? She couldn’t risk letting somebody into her life who might lead them off this new path. For her, it was a matter of life and death.
She and Melissa got into the car at the same time, and as she put the key into the ignition she noticed a folded piece of paper jammed under her windshield wiper.
“What the heck?”
“What, Mom?”
But Cynthia had already exited the car. She grabbed the paper, got into the car, and unfolded it.
And, as she read it, widened her eyes.
**********
It was a long shot. But the car with the magnet advertising a web design service was the same one he’d noticed in the St. Peter ISD Special Services parking lot yesterday. If it wasn’t Cynthia’s, Preston might get a phone call from an irate person. Either way, he didn’t really expect a call. But he had wanted to offer his phone number, or ask to call her, before she rushed off to her appointment. Now she had it. He hoped.
She seemed like the kind of woman he’d like to get to know better, and her daughter seemed sweet, even if a little leery of him. Besides, what better way to find out for sure whether or not she was behind the slander going out about Delico? He continued to believe no St. Peter ISD parent was at fault, but he’d feel better knowing for sure. He certainly didn’t want to go for Munger’s jugular if the man was innocent.
Which Preston doubted.
**********
“He is such a pompous, narrow-minded…ERRR!” Erin threw the notebook she’d been holding onto one of the desks near the door of the classroom. Then she looked over Lucy’s shoulder, out of the door, and lowered her voice. “Come in,” she said, closing the door behind Lucy. “The walls of this school have ears. Obviously.”
“I’m just so sorry – “
Erin waved Lucy’s apology away. “I knew what I was doing when you asked me the favor.” She gave her a conspiratorial grin, then winked. “We health nuts have to stick together, right?”
Lucy had carried on three or four conversations with Erin over the past couple of years about food and healthy eating. Although Erin took a more extreme view, preferring a mostly raw diet that excluded all grains, she was the only other staff member Lucy had found that understood her distrust of processed foods and the industry surrounding it.
Erin sat down on top of a desk with a sigh. “So, any idea what you’re going to do next?”
“Find a secretarial or receptionist job somewhere else, I guess.” Lucy forced a smile, though she could feel her lips tremble.
Erin put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be praying for you. When God closes one door, He opens another.”
Lucy couldn’t help wincing. “But what if I shut the door myself?”
She could have answered herself the same way Erin did: “God isn’t surprised. He’s got a plan.”
/> All the way home, Lucy tried to believe this. While her family could survive on Mario’s income, it wouldn’t be easy. They had a mortgage to pay, and property taxes seemed to sneak up a little every year. And her fight to keep the food on the dinner table pure would undoubtedly escalate to new levels. She had to find another job. She just had to.
So the next question was, should she tell Mario she was about to lose her job? In her heart of hearts, she knew the right thing to do – the best thing for their marriage, even if it hurt at first – would be to tell him the whole truth.
The problem was, she knew how Mario would react. And that’s what he’d do: react, not respond. He’d turn red in the face, yell, and give her an I-told-you-so lecture. And she would yell right back, feel guiltier than ever, and slam into their bedroom, letting him and Emma fend for themselves for the rest of the evening.
By the time she got home, she’d made her decision: she would not tell him. Not until after the fact, until she’d started a new job. He would still get angry, but not as angry because he would at least see that she had not taken any income away from the family. In fact, she decided to tell him nothing more than that she’d gotten stressed out dealing with parents and decided to resign, after finding another job.
Yes. That would do. It was mostly the truth, and would keep the peace in her house.
After supper that night, while Mario played with the remote control, clicking through channels, Lucy got online and found the classified ads for the local newspaper. In the ideal world, she would find a few positions listed tonight, apply to them all over the next couple of days, and have a new job before her last day at Benjamin Franklin Elementary. A snowball’s chance in a hot place, she knew, but there was no law against dreaming.
“Mom, do you know where my red sweats are?”
Lucy, starting at the sound of her daughter’s voice at the door, minimized the window displaying the ads and turned around. “It’s in the pile of clothes I put on your dresser yesterday.”
“Whatcha lookin’ at?”
Before Lucy could reply or stop her, Emma had walked up to the computer, grabbed the mouse, and maximized the window. “You looking for a – “