Mr. Finkenbinder clamped down on his tongue as he picked up her trash, threw it in the trash can on the other side of the desk, and straightened the candy container.
Next Wednesday, the Chestnut Hill school board would meet for their regular monthly meeting. On that evening, they would choose a new district superintendent. Mr. Finkenbinder intended that his name be chosen. If he grabbed Mrs. Bright by her Medusa hair and dragged her out of the building screaming, it would lower his chances of improving his position in this district.
“I understand that it must be difficult for you to raise your daughter after the death of your husband.” Was it possible for a wife to disorganize a husband to death? “But I must insist on punctuality. Other students who are late face the consequences.”
She probably chewed her Tootsie Roll with her mouth open on purpose. Mr. Finkenbinder ignored the irritation threatening to close off his throat and focused on his speech.
“Harper is a contender to be valedictorian or salutatorian this year. Her tardiness is through no fault of her own. Because of that, I am reluctant to punish her. However, lest I be accused of playing favorites, there must be a consequence. I am prepared to apply the repercussion to the actual offender. You.”
Mrs. Bright rolled her eyes. “Right, Fink. I know you have it in for me. What’d you want me to do? Sit in detention? Write an essay? Stand in the corner?”
He waited. Fifteen ticks of the clock.
Savoring the moment, containing his anticipation, he opened his mouth.
Before he could speak, Mr. Daschel, the chemistry teacher, ran past his window. His hand left a grubby mark on the glass as he grabbed it with a clunk and screech, to slow his pace enough to make the turn to the office. He still overshot. His hand disappeared, then reappeared, windmilling in the air.
Mr. Finkenbinder said to no one in particular, since Mrs. Bright and he were not exactly on casual speaking terms, “I do believe he was smoking.”
“God forbid there be a cigarette in the sanctuary.” She slouched in the chair and rolled her eyes.
“No. I mean, his body was smoking.”
Mr. Daschel barged into the office. He stopped short when his gaze landed on Mrs. Bright.
“Uh, I’m sorry. Knock, knock.” He gave a sheepish smile.
Mr. Finkenbinder did not return it.
Smoke wafted up from the man’s clothing. His left eyebrow was gone. “Yes?”
“Didn’t mean to interrupt, Mr. F, but the float we were making for homecoming exploded.”
“Good grief.” Mr. Finkenbinder stood. It was possible an evil chuckle came from Mrs. Bright, but he choose to ignore it. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No. No. You see, I thought if I combined hydroquinone and—”
“Later, Mr. Daschel. The police will be here any minute.” There went his opportunity for superintendent. “And the news media. You might want to…put yourself out.” Mr. Finkenbinder gestured toward the smoke. He couldn’t believe the fire alarm hadn’t gone off. That would make his day complete. All 328 Chestnut Hill High School students wandering around outside, wasting valuable learning time, while the volunteer fire company sprayed Mr. Daschel’s jacket with fire-retardant foam. Lovely.
“Wait.” Mr. Daschel glanced at his arm and seemed startled to realize he was smoking. “The float explosion happened this weekend and I forgot to tell you. I ran out of class as soon as I remembered.” He swatted at his smoking arm. “But we did have a small mishap in the room just moments ago—nothing out of the ordinary. De rigueur, so to speak.”
Mr. Finkenbinder blinked at the incorrect usage of de rigueur, but did not interrupt.
With his head lowered, Mr. Daschel shuffled his feet before he continued. “Anyway, it reminded me of the explosion this weekend, and the ruination of the homecoming float. I’m afraid the parents of the committee members have revoked permission for their children to help build it. We are floatless, and our volunteers have resigned.”
Mr. Finkenbinder sat and resisted the urge to drop his head into his hands. The acrid odor of scorched material overpowered the fresh scent of pine and burned his nose.
The parade was Saturday evening.
First Mrs. Bright. Now the homecoming float. The people in this community were laid-back, but they had high expectations for the homecoming parade. Every group from the Boy Scouts to the three members of the Backyard BBQ Club would be in it.
Mr. Finkenbinder thought again of the superintendent position and squelched a sigh. He could kiss it goodbye if there was no school float in the parade.
“Well, it looks like you’ve got your hands full, so I’ll just head on out.” Mrs. Bright hopped out of her chair and scurried toward the door.
“Sit, Mrs. Bright. I’m not finished with you.” He hadn’t gotten to deliver the good news about the repercussions she had coming to her for her continued tardiness. That would brighten his day considerably. He smiled at the pun. “Thank you for letting me know about the explosion, Mr. Daschel.” Who would have thought he’d have a casual conversation in his office with a smoking teacher about an explosion? Information his college education had not included.
“You may return to class now,” he said to Mr. Daschel.
“Right. Of course.” He scooted out the door, a skinny line of smoke trailing after him.
Mr. Finkenbinder made a note to have the fire detection system examined.
He waited for the door to click shut, then turned toward Mrs. Bright. Somehow a piece of her wild hair had caught on the corner of her lip. Normally, this would annoy him, but he found himself noticing how pink and plump that lip was. Glossy. Kissable.
He sucked in a breath as his heart jumped in his chest. To calm himself he reached to straighten the one paper on his desk. He did not think Mrs. Bright’s lip was kissable. Did not.
Mrs. Bright sat up, looking one way, then the other. “What? What is it?”
Mr. Finkenbinder took a deep, cleansing breath. Had the smoke in the room addled his brain? “Nothing. I, uh, nothing.” He slid the paper to the exact center of his desk, aghast to see his hands shaking.
One problem at a time. Or not? He had been eager to extend the appropriate repercussions to Mrs. Bright, but now he had a more practical use for her. He willed himself to remain in control.
“I believe we were in the midst of a conversation about the proper punishment for your daughter’s tardiness.”
“Right. My fault. My punishment. I’m on pine needles and a blowtorch just waiting to hear the verdict.” She touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth.
Mr. Finkenbinder swallowed. Loudly. He focused on her eyes. “If you would like to keep your daughter, and yourself, from spending the next two weeks sitting in after-school detention for two hours each day, you may spearhead the building of the Chestnut Hill homecoming float.”
Mr. Finkenbinder laced his fingers together and placed them on the desk. Now that he’d noticed her mouth, he was having a hard time looking elsewhere. The rest of Mrs. Bright might be a hot mess, but her mouth was kissable. Definitely. He suppressed his wayward musings. He was a bachelor with a nephew to raise. And a principal, hoping to become the superintendent. He most certainly would not be kissing any parents. Not now. Not ever.
Mrs. Bright stared at him with her arms crossed. She’d been speaking and he’d missed her entire tirade. Those pink lips were set in a straight line.
He cleared his throat. Easy guess that she’d just said she couldn’t do the float. Actually, come to think of it, he probably didn’t want her to. She couldn’t be depended upon to get her progeny to school on time. What an insane idea to think she could make a float by Saturday.
“Fine. If you don’t want to do the float, Harper can report to detention today after school.”
“Are you deaf, Fink? I just said I’d do the dang thing.” Her brows drew together.
“I’m sorry. I misunderstood.” Disappointment that he wouldn’t have the chance to saddle her with some nefariou
s consequence slid through his stomach. Still, she was certain to be late again. For now, at least he was getting the float taken care of. But, come to think of it, he’d better supervise. Drat. “Give Mrs. Herschel directions to your house. I assume that’s where you’re doing it?”
“Yes.” She spoke without moving her lips, and her back teeth ground with small crunches.
“Great. May I presume you will not turn down help?”
Veins stood out on the side of her neck, but she shook her head.
“Then my nephew and I will be over this evening. What time do you think you will commence?”
Her boot clunked against the floor in a fast rhythm. “Eight.”
“That will suit. We will be there.”
She jerked her head, her wild hair flying everywhere, and stood. “Unless, of course, I contract pneumonia, malaria, and herpes in the next twelve hours. If only I could be so favored.” Mrs. Bright continued to mutter under her breath as she stomped out of the room. After confirming her address with Mrs. Hershel, she strode out. She did not look through his window as she walked by.
“Mr. Finkenbinder, sir?” Mrs. Herschel’s voice crackled over the small intercom speaker.
He depressed the button. “Yes?”
“You were not at the employee luncheon yesterday afternoon?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I see. Well, you know Mrs. Kurtz had her Home Ec. class cater it. No one consulted me, and I’m not sure who made that decision.”
Mr. Finkenbinder groaned in his soul. Mrs. Kurtz was Mr. Daschel in female form. Only her experiments were intended to be ingested. By humans.
“The elementary school principal and seven teachers have called in sick. I’ve exhausted our supply of substitute teachers, but each position is accounted for. Unfortunately, I still need one more chaperone and a bus driver for the field trip the third grade is taking this afternoon.”
He already knew he was acting as principal for both elementary and high school today, common practice when one of them were out. How much was he expected to do? He depressed the button, thinking to instruct her to cancel the field trip. Immediately, the superintendent position came to mind. Instead he said, “That’s fine. I’ll do it.”
Don’t stop now. Keep reading with your copy of HARVEST MOON HOMECOMING available now.
Don’t miss the novella of the Sweet Haven Farm series with HARVEST MOON HOMECOMING and join Jessie Gussman’s Reader Group at: tinyurl.com/JessieReaders
When the high school’s float explodes five days before the National Farmer’s Day parade, Principal Calvin Finkenbinder sees his chance at the promotion to Superintendent disintegrate. Unless he enlists the help of Ellie Bright, the most annoying, disorganized and kissable woman he knows.
* * *
Standing in Principal Fink’s office, again, for driving her daughter to school late, again, Ellie is given two odious choices. Either her straight A daughter receives detention for another tardy that’s not her fault, or Ellie uses her artistic skills and helps the uptight, stringent principal build a new float.
* * *
As they scramble to construct the float in time, Ellie’s chaotic life collides with Fink’s methodical plans. A tangle of arguments and decorations leads to a stolen kiss. Underneath their long established animosity is an unexpected passion that threatens to ruin more than just a school float.
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Acknowledgments
Like so many people, we are a very busy family. I tuck my writing time in around homeschooling my children, farm chores, helping out in our trucking company, and of course all the drama and running around that teenagers entail. This past year was exceptionally busy and extra stressful.
My amazing husband saw my frustration and made one of my closest-held dreams come true: he relieved me of ALL my responsibilities, told me to pack comfy clothes and booked me five nights in a local hotel. The hotel served breakfast in the morning and soup and cookies in the evening, so I never had to go anywhere. If you’re not an introvert, you might not understand, but after living in our crazy, loud, active, revolving-door-for-visitors-house, this is about the best thing that anyone could have ever done for me. It was pure heaven to spend four solid days writing.
I checked in with an outline and the first couple chapters. I checked out with a finished rough draft on my computer. I couldn’t have done it without my husband’s consideration and generosity in taking on my responsibilities. I’ve been blessed.
Carlyn Jones, my Critique Partner, deserves more thanks than I can ever give. She’s waded through copious amounts of bad writing and has stuck with me. She’s the best.
I’d like to thank the ladies in my Critique Group: Kimberly, Iris, Lydia and most especially, Ramla Zareen Ahmad, for inviting me to be a part of it years ago. They’ve been so helpful and supportive and I have learned so much. I’m so thankful to belong to such a great group.
I would also like to thank the folks at City Owl Press, especially my editor, Mary Cain, who is amazingly wonderful. She teases out the best in my writing and my story and I'm grateful.
About the Author
Jessie Gussman is an award-winning author who writes sweet, contemporary romance from her home in central Pennsylvania. She is a member of RWA and ACFW and is contracted with City Owl Press and Pelican Book Group. Jessie and her husband own and run several businesses from their rural farm. Find her on Facebook, Pinterest and Twitter, and join her Reader Group at: tinyurl.com/JessieReaders
Website: www.jessiegussman.com
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Twitter: www.twitter.com/jessiegussman/
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About the Publisher
City Owl Press is a cutting edge indie publishing company, bringing the world of romance and speculative fiction to discerning readers.
www.cityowlpress.com
Additional Titles
BETTER TOGETHER
By: Jessie Gussman
He wants her to notice him. She has to pretend she doesn’t.
* * *
HARVEST MOON HOMECOMING
By: Jessie Gussman
A tangle of arguments and decorations leads to a stolen kiss.
* * *
ALL I EVER WANTED
By: Katrina Mills
Second Chance, Summer Romance.
* * *
BLACKBIRD SUMMER
By: Em Shotwell
When the world fears you, being Gifted is a curse.
* * *
BLACKBIRD FALLING
By: Em Shotwell
When the world fears you, being Gifted is a curse.
* * *
FORGET ME NOT
By: Em Shotwell
Maybe dating the good guy isn’t so bad.
* * *
BOHERMORE
By: Jennifer Rose McMahon
When your dreams become reality, being cursed can be a real nightmare.
* * *
INISH CLARE
By: Jennifer Rose McMahon
When your dreams become reality, hidden secrets come to light.
* * *
BALLYCROY
By: Jennifer Rose McMahon
When your dreams become reality, the legends become truth.
* * *
CRAZY ON YOU
By: Nicole Terry
Romantic susp
ense meets comic relief with this amazing, car chasing adventure romance!
* * *
FINDING KATE
By: Maryanne Fantalis
A delightful re-imagining of “The Taming of the Shrew,” sure to enchant longtime Shakespeare fans and newcomers alike.
* * *
FORBIDDEN BY FAITH
By: Negeen Papehn
Sara knows her life would be easier if she married a man of her faith, but when has love ever been easy?
* * *
LOVE IN HIDING
By: Diane Holiday
Running from danger, caught by love.
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LOVE UNCOVERED
By: Diane Holiday
Defying danger, discovering love.
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THE 12 DARES OF CHRISTMAS
By: Leigh W. Stuart
‘Tis the Season to Be Daring...
* * *
THE FIX
By: Kristin Rouse
Sometimes the fix is worth the fall.
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