The Puppy Problem

by Katie Meyer

  “Are you okay?”

  “Hmm?” He kept his eyes on the road, as if he’d been fully concentrating on it and not her the whole time.

  “You’re all flushed. And you keep making a weird face.”

  He turned his eyes toward her in time to catch her imitation of his scowl before checking for himself in the rearview mirror. “I am not,” he fibbed.

  “Yes, you are,” she insisted. “And I don’t know what that steering wheel ever did to you, but if you squeeze it any harder, it’s liable to break apart.”

  He glanced down and eased his grip enough for blood flow to return to his whitened knuckles. “I’m nervous about the banquet going well, I guess.” That was true. Before his sudden testosterone overdose and subsequent “Megan is the one” realization that had been his main concern for the night. Now he was trying to figure out when he could get her alone and if their first real date was too soon for a marriage proposal, an absurdity that would be completely unbelievable if he wasn’t experiencing it firsthand.

  She laughed and, for a startled moment, he was afraid he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. But she didn’t look like she was making fun of him, if the smile he caught in his peripheral vision could be believed.

  “It’s an elementary school function. It’s probably going to be unbearably boring.”

  “Not helping,” he grumbled between clenched teeth.

  “But,” she continued, ignoring him, “it will raise a bunch of money and everyone will see how well you are running things.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. Unless...”

  His hands tightened on the wheel again. “Unless what?”

  “You keep looking at me instead of where you’re going.” Her lighthearted tone took the sting out of the rebuke, and he felt a bit of the tension ease from his body.

  “Sorry, but that dress...”

  “Isn’t going anywhere. You’ll be sick of looking at it by the end of the night. So just get us there in one piece, okay?”

  He’d never get sick of looking at her, in or out of that dress, but he nodded and kept his eyes forward for the rest of the drive to make sure they lived long enough to test the theory. Besides, his recently discovered inner cave dweller possessed a primal urge to protect his desired mate at any cost. The realization that he was putting her at risk, not just himself, was enough to temporarily quash the urge to stare.

  Only when he had the car safely tucked into a faculty spot behind the school gym did he give in to the need to look his fill. He thought he was prepared; surely the initial impact had been a one-time thing. Now that he knew what to expect, he’d be fine.

  He wasn’t fine.

  He was so far from fine, he’d need a map and a compass to find it again.

  Just as before, his breath caught in his chest until he had to consciously will his lungs to start working again. His heart, on the other hand, was working overtime, his pulse pounding like a runaway stallion that had tossed its rider and was hell-bent for home. The only thing saving his dignity: he hadn’t actually started drooling. Yet.

  “Um, are we going to get out?” Megan waved to where his hands still rested on the steering wheel, and he realized he hadn’t even turned the car off.

  “Yeah, sorry. Just...thinking.”

  “I told you, it’s going to be great. Boring,” she added, with a wink, “but great.”

  Her smile, so full of confidence, somehow got through to the part of his brain still capable of higher-level thought. She was right; this was going to be great. He’d worked hard to put everything in place, and this was his chance to enjoy the end product—and to enjoy a real night out with the woman he loved.

  There was no doubt in his mind now that it was love. Not the kind that celebrities gushed about two weeks before announcing yet another breakup, or that greeting cards described in flowery phrases that meant less than the paper they were printed on. No, this was deeper. More real. Every cell in his body resonated with it.

  He wanted to tell her. The words hovered at the tip of his tongue, waiting to burst free. But that wasn’t a pronouncement to make in a parking lot, and he certainly wasn’t going to expose his innermost thoughts and feelings in the middle of a crowded gymnasium-turned-banquet-hall. But after tonight, with their relationship out in the open, he wouldn’t hide how he felt. And if she didn’t feel the same way? Well...he’d just have to wait until she did.

  But when he finally got out of the car and opened her door, she looked up at him in a way that made him think it might not be a long wait at all.

  As they walked hand in hand into the school, he was confident that everything he’d been working and hoping for was about to come true.

  * * *

  Less than an hour later, crammed into the dimly lit equipment room with four prominent members of the school board, the hopes and dreams Luke had been so sure of were deflating faster than the lopsided basketball puddled in the corner beside him.

  Taking a deep breath of stale air that reeked of rubber and disinfectant, he tried, again, to make sense of what he was hearing.

  “You want me to step down as principal?” When all four started to reply at once, talking over each other, he held up a hand. “Rob, can you please explain what on earth is going on?”

  Robert Swanson, a former bank officer and the most senior of the board members, both in age and length of term, nodded. “You see, we heard—I mean...” He paused, wiping at the sweat that dotted his liver-spotted forehead. “That is to say, um...” He looked to the others, as if for a reprieve. Finding none, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his suit pants and, with the air of a man doing a necessary but distasteful task, continued without ever meeting Luke’s eyes. “There has been an allegation of impropriety. Given the circumstances, stepping down quietly seems the best choice for everyone. I’m sure you understand.”

  Luke bit his tongue to keep from explaining in graphic detail just how much he didn’t understand. Only when he was sure none of his words would be of the four-letter variety did he allow himself to respond.

  “What kind of allegation? By whom?” Holy crap, had someone accused him of being inappropriate with a student? The idea was preposterous. He’d taken every precaution, followed every guideline. Everyone he knew did, because a false accusation, although rare, could ruin a career. And, by the time the truth came out, the court of public opinion would have already made up its mind.

  Sweat pooled under his heavy suit jacket, and Luke wondered if part of the stink in the room was the scent of his own fear. Still, he kept his voice calm. Acting impulsively wouldn’t help anything. “I can assure you that I follow all the proper precautions regarding student-staff interactions. So if someone is saying otherwise—”

  “This doesn’t concern the children. At least, not in that way,” Rob assured him, as if that somehow made everything okay.

  Relieved but confused, Luke turned to the woman standing nearest the door. “Melinda, fill me in. Please.” Melinda Harris, one of the newest members of the school board, was the one he knew best because—unlike the others—she still had a child enrolled. Her son, a talented artist, was in the sixth grade. Luke had recently written a recommendation for the boy as part of his application to a fine arts middle school on the mainland and had expressed to Melinda his hope that she’d stay on the board even after her son had moved on. If anyone here could bring some clarity to the situation, it was Melinda.

  “Nothing has been decided. There will need to be an investigation,” she started, her hands twisting nervously as a few of the others scowled at her. “But one of the parents has accused you of showing favoritism to a student due to an inappropriate relationship with his mother.”

  Clarity hit in an instant. He should have expected this—hell, part of him had been preparing for such a confrontation from the beginning. He just hadn’t anticipated bein
g ambushed in the supply closet while top dance hits played in the background.

  That begged the question why now.

  The answer was as obvious as the woman herself. Liz Robins. He’d seen her—more of her than he’d wanted to given her low-cut minidress—smirking a few minutes before Rob had corralled him. Now he knew why. Apparently, if she couldn’t be his date to the Scholar’s Banquet, she’d sabotage it for him instead. Classy.

  “So, because of one person’s accusation, you want me to resign?” Now that he understood the situation, his bewilderment shifted to anger. “Do you seriously expect me to just up and quit right now? What, do you want me to write my resignation letter on a scorecard or something?”

  Stepping forward, he strode through the group that had pressed him into the equipment room a few minutes ago. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we are in the middle of the biggest fundraising event of the year. The school that you all represent depends on what happens tonight. Those donors expect me to be out there, running things, and if they get wind of a scandal, you can kiss those big fat checks goodbye.”

  “Is that a threat?” Rich Dillard, another of the old guard, demanded, his face reddening in indignation.

  Beside him, Alice Bell, a small, round, nearly silent woman tsk-tsked. “We hoped you would have the decency not to cause a scene.”

  Nick laughed bitterly. “Too late for that. You already created one when the four of you dragged me in here. You think people didn’t notice?” He tipped his head at the still closed door. “Every gossip in town is out there right now coming up with their best conspiracy theories and, trust me, every one of them will be juicier than me dating a parent.” He watched the faces of the board members as the truth of what he was saying sank in. “If I walk out now, with no explanation, they’re going to have a field day. You’ll have parents pulling their kids out left and right—and demanding their tuition be refunded, too.”

  “He’s right,” Melinda said, voicing what the others refused or were too stubborn to admit. “I told you we should wait, call a meeting of the board, and deal with things properly.”

  “But she said if we didn’t do it now, she’d tell everyone!” Rich insisted, his voice rising. “That she’d make sure not a single donation came in.”

  “And you fell for that?” Luke let his disappointment in the older man’s judgment show through, just like he did when lecturing a student who’d let peer pressure push him into a rash decision. “Really, Rich? You’re a lawyer. You know she can’t do that without legal implications. She faked you out. She faked you all out.”

  Shaking his head, Luke opened the door, letting the festive music seep in.

  “Wait!” Alice shouted, confusion and a touch of panic lending a shrillness to the exclamation. “We haven’t settled anything.”

  “And we aren’t going to. Not here. Not tonight. If you want to get rid of me, you can call a meeting of the board and follow the procedures spelled out in my contract. But first, you might want to figure out what you’re going to say to those people out there, and you’d better do it quick.”

  “Us? What about you? What are you going to do?”

  “My job.” That, it seemed, had just become a heck of a lot more complicated. And he wasn’t sure who to blame. Liz for her dramatic stunt? The board members for going off half-cocked? Or himself, for naïvely thinking he could have it all.

  * * *

  Megan hadn’t thought anything of it when a few of the board members had asked to speak to Luke privately. They might be on a date, but this was a school function and he was, technically, on duty. So while he went to deal with whatever minor issue they wanted to address, she roamed the room, trying to look like she belonged.

  And that was silly, really, because she had as much right to be there as anyone else. More, maybe, since she not only had a child at the school but was also the plus-one for the principal. Yet, being allowed entry wasn’t the same as feeling welcome. Most of the attendees there so far—early arrivals like herself and Luke—were members of the faculty or on the decoration committee. The former were huddled in groups discussing standardized testing and an upcoming teacher-training workshop, not exactly her areas of expertise. Decorating wasn’t, either, but it beat standing alone in the corner, reenacting her memories of middle school dances.

  Bypassing a very serious woman with a clipboard and a frown, she headed for a group of women about her age huddled around a table full of empty vases. “Need some help?” she offered.

  “Oh my goodness, yes!” A statuesque woman with pale skin, even paler hair, and impossible blue eyes thrust an open box of assorted seashells toward her. She looked like a Viking, if Vikings had elaborate updos and wore black cocktail dresses. “These centerpieces were supposed to be done last night, but the supplies got put in the art closet instead of in the PTA closet, and none of us had a key. Now people are already arriving and Lisa over there is hopping mad.”

  So clipboard lady was Lisa. “Gotcha. Well, I’m here, just show me what to do.”

  “It’s simple. Each vase gets a scoop of sand from the bucket over there, and then some shells, with a candle in the middle. Jillian’s on sand duty, and I’ve got the candles, so if you could do the shells, that would be great.”

  “Shells it is.” Megan grabbed a few and placed herself in the center spot of the little assembly line. Turning to her left, she offered a smile. “Jillian, you’re friends with Cassie, right? She mentioned that you offered to hold the banquet up at the Sandpiper Inn, but the board turned you down.”

  Jillian nodded vehemently, sending her dark curls into a riot of motion. “We were going to donate the space, and we already have the linens, centerpieces, et cetera. It would have saved the school a bundle.”

  “And we wouldn’t be standing here shoveling sand instead of enjoying the party,” the Viking woman added ruefully. “But Lisa didn’t want to lose control, or let Jillian here get a share of the limelight. She’s running for PTA president next year, and since half the school board is related to either her or her husband, she gets what she wants.”

  “And Mrs. Cristoff wouldn’t have gotten her chartreuse tablecloths,” Megan said.

  The women all laughed. “True,” the Viking said. “And if you want a friend for life, just tell her how much you love them.” She looked around. “She should be here shortly. Just look for a little old woman in a bright green dress.” She paused. “I’m Kirstin, by the way.”

  Setting aside a finished centerpiece, Megan extended a slightly sandy hand and smiled up at the taller woman. “Hi, Kirstin. I’m Megan. Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, we know who you are,” Kirstin said with a laugh. “Everyone does.”

  Megan’s hand tightened around the shell she’d just picked up, the delicate edge digging into her palm. “Excuse me?”

  Kirstin’s pale face blanched even whiter, her eyes going wide. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that! Not like people are talking about you behind your back or something. I mean, some are, but—”

  “She means, all the kids know who Lily is,” Jillian interjected, rolling her eyes at Kirstin. “So, by extension, everyone knows who you and Owen are.”

  “Right,” Kirstin hastily agreed, blushing. “I didn’t mean it in a creepy way, I swear.” The woman’s complexion was like a virtual traffic light signaling her emotions. Megan felt a flash of sympathy at the thought, and forgave her on the spot for the poor choice of wording.

  “It’s fine.” She reassured her with as much of a smile as she could muster. “It’s just that...well, Owen has had his difficulties, and sometimes people haven’t been very kind about it, or about me keeping him in this school. He’s doing a lot better, but I guess I’m still a bit defensive.”

  “Of course.” Jillian handed her another sand-filled vase ready for shells. “But everything I’m hearing has been positive. I’d say Lily and Owen are practically
celebrities at this point.” She hesitated and then, after exchanging a loaded look with Kirstin, continued more quietly. “That said, I did hear something about you and Dr. Wright...?”

  Megan shrugged, trying to look like it was no big deal. “We’re dating, if that’s what you mean. I’m here with him tonight.” Looking up from the finished centerpiece in her hands, she searched Jillian’s face for any sign she was holding back. “Why, what are people saying?”

  “Not much,” the brunette assured her.

  Kirstin nodded in agreement, chiming in to add, “A few of the single moms were talking about it last week at my yoga class, just saying how lucky you are if it’s true.”

  “Well, it is, and I definitely am,” Megan admitted with a grin.

  “I bet. And the good news is, once a rumor is confirmed, it stops being interesting. So you two being out in public tonight will probably put an end to most of it, at least for a while.”

  “Good.” It seems her worries about their relationship causing drama had been overblown. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d overthought something and she was more than happy to be proved wrong. Setting down what looked to be the last of the centerpieces, she scanned the room again. She was enjoying the women’s company, more than she’d expected, but surely Luke was almost done with whatever he’d been called away for by now.

  “Speaking of our esteemed principal...” Kirstin pointed with a stubby candle somewhere over Megan’s shoulder. “He seems to be looking for you.”

  Spinning around, Megan spotted him walking away, toward the place where he’d left her. She frowned. “He must not have seen me over here.”