by Laura Moore
His shift over, Rob went home and showered, standing under first steaming hot and then frigid cold water in the hopes that he’d emerge revived before he headed over to his parents’ place, where Hayley had spent the day. To celebrate Hayley’s big day, his folks had taken her to buy some new school sneakers, play a round of miniature golf, and eat a burger at the Shake Shack. This evening there’d be a family gathering—his oldest brother, Aaron, was driving up from Richmond—for a dinner of fried chicken, grilled corn, and garlic bread, Hayley’s favorites, and then an ice-cream birthday cake and a small mountain of family presents.
After grabbing his wallet, car keys, and cellphone, Rob stopped on the way out of the house to fish the mail from the black metal box that was screwed into the clapboard siding to the right of the front door. Quickly, he shuffled through the pile of letters and flyers, tucking under his arm the large envelope with Warburg Elementary School’s address inked in the upper left-hand corner. It must contain the class list Hayley had been asking about every day for the past two weeks. She’d get a kick out of opening it and discovering who was in her class. He wondered whether she’d get Mrs. Riley or Mrs. Creighton as her teacher. Not that it mattered. He’d heard excellent things about both of them.
Another letter from the elementary school caught his attention, as this one was addressed to him only. He turned the envelope over and tore it open, assuming it must be yet another school form or the announcement of a special event to add to the calendar. If it contained anything exciting, he’d be able to share the news with Hayley.
He read the first three sentences and by the fourth was cursing under his breath. He scanned the remainder of Ted Guerra’s letter quickly, his anger mounting.
Damn it all to hell, he thought, retrieving his cellphone from his pocket. He didn’t care where she graduated in her class or how much student teaching she’d done, Jade Radcliffe wasn’t going to be teaching his kid.
From memory, he punched in the number to Warburg Elementary, intending to tell Ted he’d better find another replacement for Sandy Riley, and fast. The school’s answering machine brought him up short. Of course no one was there. It was a quarter to six on an August evening.
Well, he’d leave a blistering message that made his feelings plain. At the prompt, he punched in Guerra’s extension number. But when the beep sounded for him to begin speaking, an image of a ranting Nonie Harrison flashed in his mind. His thumb hit the END CALL button.
“Damn it all.” What in hell should he do now?
“You do nothing” was his mother’s answer after he’d shown her Ted Guerra’s letter informing them of Sandy Riley’s early maternity leave and that Jade Radcliffe would be taking over her class for the fall semester.
Upon arriving at his parents’, Rob had first stopped to give Hayley a kiss and remind her not to get Dexter too excited as she raced him around the perimeter of the backyard. At the last family gathering, Scott’s Lab mix had vomited his dinner and then gobbled it back up—a sight Rob preferred not to revisit.
He’d then offered a “Hi, smells good” to his dad, who was roasting ears of corn on the grill, and a “Hey” to Emma and Scott, who were keeping their father company and laughing at Dexter’s joyful leaps and ecstatic barks. After that he’d headed to the kitchen, where he knew his mom would be putting the finishing touches on the celebratory dinner. Not only had his mom raised four kids in Warburg, she’d also worked as a reading specialist at the elementary school before taking an early retirement after Becky’s death to help him with Hayley when he was on duty. Who better than she to advise him on how to get Hayley transferred out of Jade Radcliffe’s class?
When he’d handed the letter to her, he half-expected he would need to grab the pad and pencil near the telephone to jot down notes so he wouldn’t miss a single one of her instructions. But his mother read the letter without any sign of alarm. Then she simply passed it to Aaron, who’d been filling her in on life in Richmond as he nursed a Stella, and turned back to the stove to transfer the remaining pieces of crispy golden fried chicken to the large blue-and-white ceramic platter Rob had given her on her fifty-seventh birthday. She was acting as if Ted Guerra’s letter contained nothing more interesting than an announcement that the school’s hallways had been painted over the summer.
“So, Mom, what should I do?” he’d finally asked, only to feel his jaw drop at her calm reply of “You do nothing.”
“I do nothing?” Rather than watch his mom wield the tongs with a Zen-like serenity, Rob began to pace the bright-yellow kitchen.
“That’s right,” she replied in the same irritatingly calm tone as before. “Ted Guerra doesn’t strike me as someone who’s easily impressed. It’s clear from his letter that he thinks highly of Jade Radcliffe—who wouldn’t? The girl has obviously worked hard, taking extra courses to get her teaching certification in addition to her degree. Personally, I think there’s a lot to be said for the energy a young person brings to the classroom. I like Tricia Creighton a lot, but she’s been teaching second grade since before Aaron started school.”
“If memory serves, Mrs. Creighton was old even then,” Aaron said. “Hayley would exhaust her. Heck, look at poor Dexter.” He pointed toward the kitchen window.
Rob glanced out the window. Dexter had flopped onto his stomach, his long tongue hanging out while he watched Hayley circle the yard at a brisk canter. “That’s not what I’m concerned about. Jade Radcliffe is hardly the person I want—”
His mother didn’t seem to be listening. Laying the tongs on the platter, she addressed his brother. “Aaron, will you carry the chicken out? And ask Dad if he’s finished grilling the corn. And tell Scott that he should make sure everyone has something to drink. Hayley already put in a request for pink lemonade.”
But the second her oldest son was out of the kitchen, she turned and folded her arms across her middle, just above where her apron was tied. “Rob, what’s this really about?”
“Mom, you do remember who Jade Radcliffe is?”
“Of course. I remember that she was a terribly unhappy girl who lost both parents—”
“Do you remember that she was also the girl who I was busy booking down at the station on the night Becky died? If Jade Radcliffe hadn’t been at the Den looking for a wild time—”
“And if I hadn’t waited until ten o’clock before calling your house that night, I might have gone over to check on Becky earlier, and maybe she’d still be alive.”
“Surely you can’t believe that—” He couldn’t finish the thought aloud.
“That maybe I’m to blame for Becky’s death? It makes as much sense as blaming Jade Radcliffe. So do you blame me too, Rob?” she asked, looking him straight in the eye.
“No, of course I don’t.” He shook his head, appalled by the notion.
“Why not? I knew Becky was feeling poorly, so I’m much guiltier than Jade Radcliffe, who was just being a reckless teenager. If you can forgive me, then you have to forgive her.” Her tone gentled. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t become a bitter and angry man. Becky wouldn’t have wanted that.”
His voice was raw with despair. “I miss her, Mom. I miss her so damned much.”
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, as if he were ten years old rather than twenty-nine. “We all do. But she’s not really gone, Rob. There’s so much of her in Hayley. I see it every day.”
He swallowed. “I know,” he said quietly. “She’s got Becky’s smile.”
“Then let’s go out and celebrate the beautiful girl you and Becky made together.” She rose on the toes of her sandals to kiss his brow. “Okay?”
Expelling a ragged breath, Rob nodded and repeated, “Okay.” He wouldn’t spoil Hayley’s birthday dinner for anything. “So I let the classroom situation be?”
“That’s right. Of course, if you have any concerns, you should take them up with Jade Radcliffe. But take my advice and wait until after she’s had a chance to get a sense of the kids
and the class dynamics—and after parents’ night too. That’s the worst night of the year for a new teacher.”
“I bow to your superior wisdom.”
His mother’s bright-blue eyes twinkled as she gave him a bowl of purple coleslaw to carry outside. “You should make a habit of that. Now, let’s go give that little girl of yours her dinner and presents. Seven years old. It seems only yesterday that you were seven, bound and determined to do whatever Scott and Aaron were up to. I can still remember when you jumped off that high-platform diving board.…”
The birthday presents were unwrapped with the ice cream cake. Hayley was ecstatic over the Hula-Hoop and bead kit Emma gave her; the enormous box of colored pencils and markers and the book of horse stickers from Aaron; the pretty necklace with a horse pendant, along with several outfits for school, that Rob’s mom and dad gave her; the boxed set of the Pony Club Secrets, along with a purple backpack for school, from Scott; and, from Rob, a pair of jodhpurs, paddock boots, and a riding hat. Sara Steadman had assured him he could return or exchange anything that didn’t fit. Inside the big glittery pink-and-gold birthday card with a 7 emblazoned on it, he’d written that she was also getting riding lessons once the school year began. When she read the message, she whooped in delight. Flinging her arms about his neck, she gave him a loud smooch on his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy! You’re the best dad ever!”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’m still investigating which barn is the best for lessons.”
Then, Hayley being Hayley, she skipped around the table, showing everyone the birthday card so that they could read about her upcoming riding lessons. Then she raced inside the house to pull on her new jodhpurs and had her grandpa fasten her new necklace. She would have probably started Hula-Hooping while wearing her riding helmet if Rob hadn’t called her over and presented her with the envelope from the school.
“Is it my class list?” she asked breathlessly.
“Why don’t you open it and see?”
Emma was sitting next to him. She leaned close, peering over Hayley’s shoulder. “Yeah, Hayley, open it up. I want to know who’s in your class. Aren’t you dying to know too, Scott?”
“The suspense is killing me. Hayley’s only been talking about it nonstop for the past two weeks.”
Accustomed to Scott’s teasing, Hayley wrinkled her nose at him and then turned to Emma. “Will you help me with the envelope, Aunt Emma? I don’t want to rip it.”
“Sure thing.” Emma took the envelope, peeled back the gummed end, and pulled out a sheath of papers. Glancing at the topmost one, she said, “Looks like you got a letter from your teacher.… Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise, and her gaze met Rob’s.
A lift of his brows signaled to her that he was quite aware of who’d written it, and her face cleared.
“Hayley, guess what? You have a new teacher this year,” he said.
“You mean I don’t have Mrs. Riley?” He caught the note of anxiety that had crept into her voice.
“No, your new teacher’s name is Miss Radcliffe.” He wasn’t going to broach the topic of what a substitute teacher was, as it might cause Hayley even more anxiety.
“I think you’re going to like her,” Emma said, adding her support. “Shall I read her letter to you?”
Hayley nodded and leaned in toward Emma’s chair.
“Okay, here goes.” Emma raised her index finger to the sheet of paper so that Hayley could follow along as she read. “Dear Hayley, Hi, my name is Jade Radcliffe, and I’m going to be your second-grade teacher while Mrs. Riley is having her baby. As I’m new at Warburg Elementary School, I thought I would tell you a little bit about myself. I grew up in Warburg and live with my sisters on a horse farm that’s been in our family for a long time. I spend a lot of time riding and working with our horses. When I’m not doing that, I like to read books, listen to music, and spend time with my family. I have two older sisters who are married, and they both have kids. I have three nephews and three nieces, so things get pretty busy around my home. I’m really looking forward to meeting you and all of the students in the class and learning more about your lives in the weeks ahead. It’s going to be a fun year! In the packet, you’ll find our class list as well as a list of school supplies. Don’t worry if you can’t get them all by the first day though! See you on the morning of the twenty-third! Sincerely, Miss Radcliffe.” Emma paused, then said, “And she wrote a P.S. at the bottom. That’s what you put when you want to add something after you’ve finished the letter.”
“What’d she say?”
“Hayley, I saw that your birthday is this Wednesday! Have a very happy day!” Emma lowered the letter. “Well, that was nice of her, wasn’t it?”
Seated across the teak table, Rob’s mother caught his gaze. He answered her silent inquiry with a tiny nod. Yes, Jade Radcliffe had passed her first test. Her letter had not only dispelled any of Hayley’s anxiety over having an unknown teacher, it had also lit a spark of excitement in her brown eyes. Jade received a gold star for having included birthday wishes. Smart. Then again, he’d never doubted her intelligence.
“Your new teacher sounds great, Hayley. You lucked out, kiddo,” Aaron said.
“Yeah. And she has horses.” Hayley’s expression was as awestruck as her voice.
“That’s right,” Emma said. When she looked about to say more, Rob gave a quick shake of his head. He didn’t want her mentioning that Jade Radcliffe was also giving riding lessons. Knowing Hayley, her mind would take flight. Soon he’d be explaining why it wasn’t an absolutely perfect idea for her to take riding lessons at Rosewood Farm.
Shooting him an exasperated look, Emma took another tack. “Say, Hayley, do you know Olivia and Kate Stevens?”
Hayley nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“Miss Radcliffe is their aunt.”
“Their aunt?”
“Yes, her older sister is Mrs. Gage,” Rob’s mother informed her. “Such a nice woman.”
“I like Olivia—she’s funny. And Kate’s really nice.”
“So, Hayley, you ready to see who’s in your class?” Rob asked. He didn’t want Hayley to get too excited about all the wonderful things she was discovering about her new teacher. Especially when he wasn’t sure she’d remain Hayley’s teacher.
“Yeah!”
“All right, then. Emma, you want to do the honors?”
Emma shuffled the sheaf of papers in her hands. “Ah, here it is, the long-awaited class list,” she intoned dramatically, while Scott and Aaron drummed their fingers on the table and Hayley giggled. “Now, shall I begin with the A’s or the N’s?”
“The A’s. Because I don’t want to miss anybody, but, oh, I hope Jenny’s in Miss Radcliffe’s class with me!”
Okay, Rob thought as he listened to Hayley’s squeal of excitement when Em got to the F’s and read off Jenny Ferris’s name; it was pretty clear that Hayley was in seventh heaven. She was going to be counting the minutes until she could shoulder her new purple backpack; walk into the elementary school with her best friend, Jenny; and meet her new teacher, a woman who actually lived on a horse farm.
The least he could do was to hold off judging Jade Radcliffe’s abilities until he’d gathered more evidence. But if he didn’t like what he saw, nothing was going to stop him from calling Ted Guerra.
DRESSED IN oversize dark glasses, a baseball hat worn with the brim pulled low, and a baggy windbreaker, Jade knew she wasn’t going to win any style awards, but the outfit wasn’t intended to flatter so much as to serve as a disguise. It would be pretty difficult for anyone from Warburg who might be eating lunch in the Upperville diner to recognize her.
She’d even driven to the Plains Drifter in Travis’s SUV, since her fire-engine-red Porsche was too eye-catching. Luckily, she’d had the perfect excuse when she’d asked Travis to loan her his wheels: She needed to go to the pet store to pick up an aquarium and all the necessary fish supplies for her classroom and then swing by Steadman’s to buy tack for the new ponies. No
way could she fit all that stuff in a Porsche 911.
She hopped out of the SUV, the windbreaker ballooning like a garbage bag about her, and walked toward the diner’s entrance. By the time she was halfway across the parking lot, she was sweating beneath the nylon shell. As sweat trickled down her spine, she scanned the other parked cars, distracting herself from the heat by wondering whether the private investigator she was meeting was already inside the restaurant. If so, what kind of car would a PI named Greg Hammond drive? A Ford or an import? Dark green or flashy silver?
And what would Hammond look like? She hadn’t been able to form much of an impression from his voice. All she knew was that he was male and that his office was located in Fairfax, Virginia.
Wrapping her hand around the hot metal handle of the diner’s glass door, she pulled it open and stepped inside to the frigid blast of the air-conditioning and the thick smell of grease. It wasn’t yet noon, but the place was nonetheless fairly crowded. Hammond had told her to sit wherever she wanted; he’d find her. She slid into a booth by the window and glanced around, half-expecting some guy in a fedora and a wide-lapeled suit to slide onto the blue vinyl bench opposite her. Or maybe he’d be wearing a badass black leather jacket, never mind that it was broiling outside.
Jeez, she was becoming ridiculous in her old age.
Determined to act normal, as if she met with detectives daily, she picked up the laminated menu and studied it, for once not even tempted by any of the calorie bombs being offered. She doubted, though, that Margot would be mollified to learn that she was too nervous to inhale her usual quantity of sugar and carbs. She’d be too busy having a conniption fit that her little sister was meeting a private eye. Was intending to hire one …
“Jade Radcliffe?”
Startled, she dropped the menu onto the retro Formica. “Um, yes, I’m Jade.”
“Greg Hammond.” He stuck out a hand, and she shook it, staring up at him dumbly. It surprised her that he looked so normal, not like someone who spent his life tracking down white-collar criminals, blackmailers, missing persons, and adulterers, poking and prying into everyone’s past. She placed him in his late forties, maybe even early fifties, because there was more salt than pepper in his short-cropped hair. His eyes were brown. Rather than sporting a fedora and trench coat, he was dressed in a white shirt beneath a slightly creased slate-blue linen jacket and light-beige trousers. He had a healthy tan and looked like he might play golf on Sunday mornings. But his erect bearing hinted at more than just swinging an iron. She bet he had a military background. And from the solid body beneath his linen jacket, she figured he could probably bench-press twice her weight without breaking a sweat.