His Valentine Surprise

by Tanya Michaels

Curious, he picked it up and glanced at the subject heading. From Victoria Hathaway?

  “This is my sister-in-law’s email address. Vicki…” He trailed off, recalling how pleased he and Dee had been that Vicki and Bobby were getting along so well. During the past two family dinners, the kids had shut themselves in the study with no discernible bickering or tattling. Which should have been enough to make you suspicious, dummy. “Vicki has a cousin who must have helped her. She wouldn’t know how to send an email by herself.”

  “Bobby Riggs, Dee’s son?” Shay nodded. “Earlier this week, I presented him with a trophy from the council-level science fair. Clearly a smart boy. It makes sense that Vicki would have dictated her letter—the punctuation and spelling are far above the normal first-grade level.”

  With growing trepidation, Mark began to read.

  My name is Victoria Hathaway. People call me Vicki. I am six years old and in the first grade at Woodside Elementary school. I am the only girl in my class who doesn’t have a mommy.

  Mark’s heart stuttered. He’d known Vicki was growing more resentful of her single parent status, but seeing her unhappiness articulated like that on the paper in front of him… He was shocked that, instead of trying to talk to him more about it, she’d decided to share it with the population of Woodside! What had Bobby been thinking to help her with this?

  My daddy is Mark Hathaway. He is a good man, but a not so good cook. My mom went to heaven. He needs a new wife, but he never ever goes on dates.

  Was it possible to keep one’s face from turning red through sheer force of will? He kept his gaze locked on the humiliating paper in his hand and away from the lovely blonde who watched him silently.

  I think my dad is shy. Can you help us? It will be Valentine’s Day soon, and he is very lonely. If you are a lady who is not too old and don’t already have a husband, maybe you could be Daddy’s valentine. Please let him know if you would like him. He is gone at the store a lot, but he is fun when he is home. It would also be good if you have a dog. I really want one. But not as much as I want a mom.

  Thank you,

  Victoria Kathryn Hathaway

  Mark was mortified. And aching for his daughter. And fully prepared to ground both her and her cousin for the rest of their natural lives. Well, she had tried to warn him that morning. Don’t worry, Daddy, I have a plan. He was flooded with reactions, from grudging admiration of his daughter’s problem-solving ingenuity—hell, maybe she could help brainstorm ideas on how to save the store—to renewed anger that his wife had been taken from them so young.

  He heard his own rusty chuckle. In his struggle to formulate a response, he’d unconsciously chosen laughter. “Maybe I could just get her a puppy?”

  “I’m not sure making jokes is the best way to handle this,” the principal countered gently. “Your daughter obviously—”

  “Have you even met my daughter?” he asked. Mark wasn’t normally rude, but he was still reeling at the idea of Vicki feeling so desperate that she’d taken action behind his back. He always read the weekly notes from her teacher, Mrs. Frost, and Lord knew he’d listened to hours of advice from Dee because he accepted that his sister-in-law had Vicki’s best interests at heart. But he resented the condescending tone from a woman who might not even recognize Vicki if she saw her.

  Shay squared her shoulders, rigid in her chair. “I go into all of the classrooms, occasionally reading stories to the kids or picking a table to have lunch with, but no, I have not been individually introduced to your daughter. And, before you ask, no, I don’t have any children of my own. What I do have are years of classroom experience working with kids and a Master of Education. I may be younger than Principal Ridenour, but I assure you I’m qualified for my job.”

  Mark shoved a hand through his hair, aware that he’d botched this meeting so far. “Of course you are, Ms. Morgan. I apologize. I got defensive because this is personal.”

  Her posture eased slightly, but her expression didn’t soften. “I understand why you would feel that way, but this email was sent to everyone on the PTA mailing list. I haven’t spoken to Vicki yet, or her aunt, for that matter. I wanted to make sure that you, as the responsible parent, were fully aware of the situation first. But I am going to send out a concise email addressing the situation.”

  In other words, Mark translated, his “personal” matter had become quite public.

  “Before we call her into the office, though,” the principal added, “I wanted to talk with you for a few minutes. Are you aware that there’s a community support group for single parents that meets in the school cafeteria the first and third Wednesday nights of every month?”

  “I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but I’m not going to give up another night with my daughter. Tuesday evenings she has ballet, and Friday, inventory at the store sometimes goes pretty late, so—”

  “That would be the store mentioned in Vicki’s letter, when she says you’re away a lot? Mr. Hathaway, as someone who’s never been married, I can’t know precisely what it’s like to lose a spouse. But I realize it must be very difficult for you and Vicki. Maybe this wasn’t so much a plea for a new mom as a cry for more attention.”

  “Vicki knows how much I love her.” Doesn’t she? “I tell her every single day. She’s the most… She’s my world, Ms. Morgan.” He recalled a promise he’d made to Jess, when they’d known how little time she’d had left. He’d told her that he’d love Vicki enough for both of them. Was he failing?

  “I don’t doubt that.” Radiating sympathy, the principal laid her hand atop his on the table. Then she blinked, as if she were as surprised by the physical contact as he was. She withdrew immediately. “Maybe it would help if you supplemented your words with actions, with your time. The first-grade classes have already been on a couple of field trips this year. Were you able to chaperone any of those?”

  “I have a store to run.” This woman had no idea what kind of pressure he was under to keep the place afloat and to keep Vicki here in Braeden. Was he really being condemned as a bad father because he hadn’t accompanied a bunch of six-year-olds to a petting zoo?

  “You also have a daughter who needs you,” she said. “There are numerous studies that show how much a child benefits, both emotionally and academically, when a parent is able to volunteer at the school.”

  Those studies weren’t going to pay his mortgage. But he tamped down the sarcasm. If his showing up for the occasional field trip would help Vicki, he’d find a way to do it. But it seemed that Ms. Morgan had even bigger ideas.

  She handed him a blue folder. “That contains information on different ways you can get involved in the classroom. We’re always in need of parental support for our activities. Our fall book fair, normally a week long, only ran three days this year because we couldn’t staff all of the available shifts. And the Campside Girls who’ve traditionally had their weekly troop meetings here had to disband this year because they couldn’t find a leader.”

  “A shame,” he muttered. “I would have been happy to give the troop discounts on gear for—”

  “Mr. Hathaway! We’re discussing your daughter’s well-being, not your store. Study the list I’ve given you. There must be something on it that you’re suited to, a way you can chip in and show Vicki that she’s just as important to you as your job.”

  Maybe the two could dovetail—his principal-mandated community service and his promise to Bennett to boost business.

  “Actually, it’s a funny coincidence,” Mark said, flashing her a smile. He tried for charm but it was difficult to gauge whether or not he succeeded. “I wanted to talk to you about getting involved with Woodside this spring.”

  “Really?” Her tone was suspicious.

  “Honest. I know Woodside’s hosting that Fitness Fair and as you may know, at Up A Creek, we—”

  “That’s the name of your store?”

  “It’s the store I manage, yes. I’m not the owner.” And if he didn’t find a way to boost profi
ts enough to appease the owner, then—

  “Mr. Hathaway, I believe you are missing the point.” Her tone was wooden. “Your daughter needs you.”

  This judgmental blonde didn’t think he was aware of that fact every second of every day? Vicki needed him to braid hair, which he couldn’t do, and provide dinner, which he usually messed up; the matter-of-fact criticism in her email that he was a not so good cook stung more than he would have predicted. But she also needed him to provide food and shelter and the clothes she seemed to outgrow every other week.

  The responsibility had been weighing heavily on his shoulders lately. Now, with Shay Morgan poking at his flaws, he wanted to yell that he was doing the best he could. Ironically, it was the very fear that his words might be true that kept him silent.

  What if this was the best he had to offer and it wasn’t enough to truly keep his daughter healthy and happy?

  He tightened his grip on the folder, sucking in his breath at the resulting paper cut. “I’ll read everything in here and find a way to participate.”

  “Wonderful! I look forward to working with you,” Shay lied unconvincingly. She sounded as if she’d rather be buried beneath a rock slide than deal with him again.

  He could relate. That was pretty much how he felt about her right now, too.

  AS SHE WAITED ALONE IN her office for Mark Hathaway’s return, Shay took a moment to compose herself. They’d asked Roberta to call for Vicki via the classroom intercom system, but Mrs. Frost had answered that the class was outside with the gym teacher and that it would take a few minutes to find Vicki and escort her to the office. Meanwhile, Mark had stepped outside to phone his store—the cell reception was lousy in the school—so he could let his employee know it would be at least another half an hour before he returned to work. He’d excused himself with a note of challenge in his voice, as if expecting Shay to come down on him for being a diligent boss.

  She sighed, staring sightlessly at her computer monitor. Well, you’ve handled this like a real pro.

  No doubt startled by his daughter’s attempts to engineer his love life, Mark Hathaway had been prickly throughout their meeting. It hadn’t helped that instead of defusing the situation, Shay herself had felt defensive, unbalanced. Her original intention had been to phone the man and discuss Vicki’s email, but Roberta had acted preemptively, summoning him to the office on Shay’s behalf. Would their conversation have gone more smoothly if it hadn’t been face-to-face?

  Get a grip. He’s hardly the first good-looking man you’ve ever met.

  True, but she wasn’t reacting just to Mark’s tall, athletic build or the handsome face framed by inky-black hair. She was responding more to his reaction to her. The way his gaze had traveled over her in the front office… If she’d been out somewhere socially, instead of at a place of work where she was trying to establish her authority, the appreciation in those gray eyes would have made her shiver. And she hadn’t missed his staring at her legs once they sat down together.

  But despite the temptation to be flattered as a woman, she was annoyed as a professional. You’re not what I expected, he’d said, comparing her to Principal Ridenour. Was Mark Hathaway one of those people who would underestimate her as a pretty face, too young and not up to the serious responsibilities of her job? He certainly wouldn’t be the first. Her thoughts flickered from the mothers gathered outside her office this morning to her own father, but she shut down that line of contemplation. This morning was about little Victoria Hathaway, not Shay.

  Sometimes this job called for deciding what was best for students as a whole, implementing policies that would affect the nearly three hundred kids at Woodside, but other days, it was far more personal, trying to help each child one at a time. And, as exasperating as her parents could sometimes be, Shay loved them both and couldn’t imagine how difficult a time this was for the motherless first grader.

  Though her door was open, Mark Hathaway rapped his fist against the doorjamb, looking tentative. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting a phone call or anything,” he said as he walked back into the office. Instead of regaining his seat, he stood behind the chair, shifting his weight.

  “I asked Roberta to hold my calls until after we talked to Vicki. I figure she’ll be unnerved enough without having to sweat it out while I’m talking to someone else. Barring any sudden emergencies on campus, you two have my undivided attention.”

  Frankly, Mark Hathaway probably had women’s undivided attention no matter where he went. Now that she’d been able to put a face with the name, it was a bit surprising that this man “never ever” went on dates. Was his daughter exaggerating? Or was he still in mourning for his late wife?

  Shay cleared her throat. “Mr. Hathaway, I apologize if this is a difficult question, but do you mind if I ask when your wife passed? I’m just trying to get a handle on Vicki’s state of mind.”

  His knuckles tightened on the back of the chair. “About two years ago. She—”

  “Ms. Morgan?” The secretary’s voice crackled through the phone on Shay’s desk. “I’m sending back Vicki Hathaway now.”

  “Thank you.” Shay stood and returned to the table by the door so that they could all sit together.

  A little girl who looked absolutely nothing like Mark appeared in the doorway. Judging from their facial features, one wouldn’t even guess them related. Where his dark hair was silky, her ginger-colored hair was a profusion of curls. Shay’s hair had always been naturally straight, requiring determined use of a curling iron and lots of hair spray to achieve any kind of body. Vicki Hathaway was adorable and, Shay suspected, probably a miniature of Mark Hathaway’s late wife. Did it comfort him, seeing part of Mrs. Hathaway live on, or did looking at a version of her face make him miss her even more keenly?

  Vicki’s chin was bravely raised even though her lower lip quivered and her brown eyes were huge with trepidation. “Hi, Daddy.”

  Still standing, he turned to wrap an arm around his daughter’s slim shoulder. “Hi, Bug.”

  “Would you like to sit down with us, Vicki?” Shay pointed to the empty seat between herself and Mark. “I’m Principal Morgan.”

  Vicki nodded solemnly.

  “Do you know why your dad and I want to talk to you?” Shay asked softly.

  Vicki slouched down in the chair. “B-because of the letter that Bobby and I—I mean, the letter I sent?”

  Mark exhaled with a huff. “We already know your cousin was your partner in crime. This was his idea, wasn’t it?”

  “No.” Despite her trembling lip, Vicki’s expression was resolute when she swiveled her head to look at her father. “It was my idea to help you meet a nice lady. I had that idea even before Christmas. You’re too shy, Daddy. You need my help! You and Aunt Dee and Pasture Jack—”

  “Pastor Jack,” her father corrected automatically.

  “You all say we should help people, right?”

  “Well, yes,” Mark conceded, “but we have to be careful how we do it.” He cast a beseeching glance in Shay’s direction. The expression in his gray eyes clearly read Help! which, she had to admit, was enormously gratifying. This parent had gone from questioning just what she knew about his daughter to seeking out her expertise.

  She cleared her throat. “Vicki, do you remember when that policeman visited the school last week and talked to us about 9-1-1? He said it was important to know your phone number and address but that we don’t share that information with strangers.”

  Vicki nodded. “Wanna hear my phone number?”

  “Maybe another time. Right now, I need you to understand that email addresses are a little like phone numbers. People want their privacy. When they filled in their personal contact information for the PTA, we promised that they would only get emails with official PTA updates. You and your cousin didn’t have any right to use that mailing list. And I think you know that it was wrong to go behind your dad’s back like that. Don’t you?”

  Vicki’s gaze fell momenta
rily to her lap, where she was wringing her hands. But she made one last attempt to plead her case. “Do you think little girls should have a mommy?” She raised her head, hitting Shay with the full force of those chocolate-brown eyes.

  Shay had worked with children for enough years to understand that the smart ones started trying to manipulate adults from an early age—testing the grown-ups around them and testing boundaries. To some extent, she was being played. Still, even if they were being exaggerated for effect, the pain and frustration in Vicki’s small voice were real. Shay had the urge to scoop the girl into a hug.

  But she hadn’t become principal by letting children wrap her around their little fingers—not even supercute, resourceful, motherless children. So she chose to answer Vicki’s question with one of her own. “Do you think your mommy would have wanted you to do things that upset your dad or other adults?”

  “No, ma’am,” Vicki whispered.

  “Can you promise me that nothing like this will happen again?” Shay asked gently.

  “Yes. But someone has to do something,” she whined, foreshadowing what she was likely to sound like as a teenager.

  “I know it’s difficult not having your mother around,” Shay said. “But you still have a dad who loves you very much.”

  “Very,” Mark interjected, taking his daughter’s hand.

  “And he wants to spend even more time with you.”

  “He does?” Vicki whipped her head around, looking to her dad for confirmation.

  The first grader seemed blatantly skeptical, which proved Shay’s earlier point. Part of this mom search probably stemmed from the little girl’s feeling neglected. If Mark made a concerted effort to be more involved in his daughter’s life, not only would it be good for her emotional well-being, it would save him a lot of trouble in the long run.

  Shay nodded emphatically, addressing Vicki but shooting a pointed glance toward Mark. “Yep. He’s going to find some ways to help out at the school.”