His Valentine Surprise

by Tanya Michaels

  Naturally, all of the Morgans had been thrilled for him.

  But tempering Shay’s joy was the slightest sense of betrayal. Up until now, whenever her parents started in on her about being single, she could point out that her older brother was just as single. When their mother had gone to find a celebratory bottle of wine, Shay had entertained one petty second where she regretted covering for Bastien when he broke curfew at seventeen. If I’d known he was going to do this to me twenty years later…

  Shaking off both last night’s events and the rules her oh-so-perfect brother had surreptitiously broken when they were kids, Shay pasted a welcoming smile on her face for Vicki Hathaway.

  “Good morning,” she greeted the girl, coming around her desk to sit at the small conference table.

  Vicki approached nervously, reminding Shay of Dorothy Gale coming to see the great Oz. “Good morning. Daddy said to bring you my a-pol-o-gy.” She pronounced the word very slowly, as if it was something she’d been practicing and still hadn’t quite mastered. “We worked hard on it.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Shay told her, discreetly checking her watch. She still had a few minutes before she’d need to go. “Why don’t you have a seat? If you don’t mind, I thought maybe you could read me what you wrote.”

  “Okay,” Vicki agreed after a moment’s thought. She climbed into a chair, clutching the piece of notebook paper in her hand so hard it wrinkled. “I’m a good reader. I’m in the blue group in Mrs. Frost’s class.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Shay praised. “Maybe you could even be a special helper and visit one of our kindergarten classes sometime, to read them a picture book?”

  “I could?” Vicki sat up taller. “That would be cool!”

  “I’ll talk to Mrs. Frost about that,” Shay promised. One of the concepts she really wanted to promote in the school was that of students helping each other. There were a few programs already in place designed to do that, but mostly it involved the fourth and fifth graders who had “book buddies” in the younger grades. It was worth trying out to see if some of the younger students could also succeed if given minor responsibilities.

  “Do you want me to start now?”

  Shay nodded her encouragement. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  The little girl took a deep breath and launched into her letter so quickly that some of the words ran together. Shay had to replay a string in her mind to process what she was hearing. But after the first couple of lines, Vicki calmed down.

  “Dear Principal Morgan and Woodside Elementary parents,

  Last Friday, I sent an email to find my dad a Valentine because I think he is lonely and I want a mom. But it was not right to do that. I should respect privacy—Daddy helped me spell that—and not use other people’s email. I should also not tell strangers about our home business and should not lie to my dad and tell him I am playing games with my cousin Bobby when we are up to no good. I will not do it again.

  Sincerely,

  Victoria Kathryn Hathaway.”

  No sooner had she finished than she added in a confidential tone, “My aunt Dee says Bobby is grounded from the computer until he is probably thirteen!”

  Shay tried to bite back a grin. “Well, I’m glad the two of you have learned your lesson.”

  Vicki passed the paper to her. “I did. Next time I help Daddy find a date, I have to get his permission first.”

  Shay raised an eyebrow. “You mean you haven’t given up on that?”

  “Daddy says people should never give up,” Vicki said brightly.

  Oh, dear. “Maybe in this one instance it would be better to let it go,” Shay cautioned. “Love between two people is… It happens in lots of different ways, but it can’t be forced. And adult love is complicated. It might be hard for a little girl to help with it, even when she’s a very smart, very persistent little girl.”

  Vicki was eyeing her intently. “Are you in love with a boy, Principal Morgan?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “You sound like you know a lot about love.”

  Shay had the urge to backpedal like crazy and claim she didn’t know the first thing about the subject, but that would negate her authority and the solid advice she’d just offered. “Well, some, I guess. Nobody knows everything about love.”

  “You can talk to my dad about love. Since you’re a grown-up. That would be even more better than me helping.”

  “Just better,” Shay said absently. “We don’t say more better. I’ll tell you what, Vicki. As a principal, my job is to take care of things that have to do with class and learning and getting along with our friends at school. But I’m not really supposed to interfere much with—” what had the girl called it in her letter? “—home business. So I shouldn’t say anything to your dad about dating. But what I can do is, if you ever have a question about school or a problem with something, I can help.”

  “Really?” Vicki’s big brown eyes shone with gratitude and what looked like surprise.

  “Really,” Shay said firmly. “I care about you. I care about all the students at Woodside.”

  The girl cocked her head to the side. “That’s just what my daddy said at home when we talked about you.”

  “The two of you talked about me?” Oh, to have been a fly on the wall. Shay knew that her conference with Mark Hathaway had been a little bumpy, but despite the frustration she’d sensed from him, he obviously had the consideration not to bad-mouth her in front of his impressionable daughter. One would think parents would generally refrain from bashing other adults, especially school figures, in front of their children, but in Shay’s experience, that wasn’t always the case.

  “I told Daddy you’re not a scary principal. And we think you’re pretty.”

  Shay felt foolish about the way her stomach flip-flopped. After all, she was only getting a six-year-old’s side of the conversation—a six-year-old determinedly trying to fix up her father, at that. Who knew if Mark Hathaway really thought she was pretty?

  Not that it would matter, even if he did. After all, Shay had until May to make her mark on this school and prove that she was an upstanding, dedicated principal. Somehow, she doubted that flirting with members of her PTA would go very far toward achieving that goal.

  “You’d better get back to class now,” she told Vicki.

  “Okay.” The girl stood but didn’t move toward the door. “Principal Morgan?”

  “Yes?”

  Shay was unprepared for the way Vicki launched herself into a hug, wrapping her slender arms around Shay’s shoulders.

  “Thank you for liking me,” Vicki whispered.

  Shay would have told her you’re welcome, but it was difficult to speak past the sudden lump in her throat.

  Chapter Five

  Mark’s initial email to Hawk Summit resulted in a teleconference on Wednesday morning that was both promising and disappointing. He’d asked to speak to someone in the marketing department and had been startled to discover there wasn’t one. After half an hour of candid conversation, the operations manager admitted that budget cuts had forced them to do away with the full-time, in-house department.

  “It mostly falls to me, a part-timer with a background in PR and an intern who works without pay in exchange for college co-op credit and free skiing. What we can’t do, we farm to an outside marketing firm.”

  The man was definitely interested in Mark’s idea of cross-promotional deals, but hearing about Hawk Summit’s struggles reinforced Bennett’s suspicion that the resort was in no real shape to help the store. They’d also discussed some equipment that Hawk Summit could purchase through Up A Creek at a discount, which would help them both.

  Congratulating himself on ending the teleconference in plenty of time to get to the elementary school, Mark grabbed his jacket and let Keesha know he was leaving.

  “Going to read to my little girl’s class,” he said proudly.

  “Sounds fun. What are you reading to them?”

  Reading to th
em? Hell. That would explain the feeling that he’d forgotten something. Luckily, he had a box in the trunk of his car that should help. Dee had given him a bunch of books Bobby had outgrown, as well as some handheld electronic games that ran educational cartridges.

  In the school parking lot, Mark pulled out the box and rifled through the books. Some appeared too old for his audience, some were nonfiction books about volcanoes and animal kingdom classifications that looked as if they might be too dry for read-aloud entertainment. But he struck gold with a slim chapter book that promised funny anecdotes about a grade school boy and his outrageous little brother, who was always getting them into wild scrapes. Bingo.

  Book in hand, he took the front steps two at a time, appreciating that the weekend’s predicted ice had never materialized.

  According to the teacher’s email, the procedure for mystery reader was that the parent checked in with the front office and Roberta Cree would announce via classroom intercom that a mystery guest had arrived. Then the teacher had all the kids close their eyes and put their heads down on their desks until the parent was situated in the chair at the front of the room and ready to start. Mark made a beeline for the office, nearly colliding with Principal Morgan. She was in a navy sweaterdress today that made her eyes look darker, with tan boots that hugged her calves.

  Her mouth parted in surprise and she took a reflexive step back.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  She gave a small smile. “Just so you know, there’s no running in the halls, Mr. Hathaway.”

  He returned the smile. “Will it get me out of detention if I tell you I wasn’t running, I was…power walking?”

  Shay laughed, an unexpectedly low, throaty sound. Nothing like the periodic simpering giggles he’d heard over the weekend.

  If he’d thought facing the women at the store on Saturday was awkward, it was nothing compared to church the next day. Two different ladies had approached him about joining the Sunday school class “specifically for adult singles. It’s about Christian fellowship of course, but also companionship.” If he wasn’t mistaken, Patsy Elmer had winked when she’d added the last word. One of the members of the choir had caught up to him as he was leaving to give him a pan of brownies she’d baked from scratch. “For you and your adorable daughter. We should get her together with my Dylan sometime for a playdate. They’re close in age.”

  “I see where your daughter gets her negotiating abilities,” Shay told him. It was refreshing for a woman to bring up Vicki without having an ulterior motive. “She and I chatted on Monday when she brought me her letter. Job well done on that, by the way. But Mr. Hathaway…”

  “Yes.”

  Shay bit her lip, looking indecisive, and Mark was shocked that he had such trouble tearing his gaze from her mouth. God, how long had it been since he’d really looked at a woman’s mouth, really let himself think about—

  “I should warn you,” Shay said, “I don’t think getting in trouble did anything to deter Vicki from wanting a mother.”

  Her words were as effective as a splash of cold water, making him forget not only his semi-inappropriate thoughts but that he was supposed to be on his way somewhere. “What is she up to now? Or do I even want to know?”

  Shay laughed again, no doubt at the wariness in his tone that suggested his enterprising six-year-old was a mad scientist to be feared.

  “She didn’t share with me the schematics of her devious plan,” the principal teased, “but she did mention something about how you taught her never to give up.”

  “Oh, sure.” Mark lifted his free hand and rubbed his temple. “Everything I’ve tried to teach her since she was born, and that’s the lesson she hones in on.”

  “She’s a resilient, resourceful little girl. You should be very proud.”

  He felt a surge of paternal warmth. “Trust me, I am. And I’m taking your advice.” He held up the chapter book. “I came to read to her class today, and I actually wanted to talk to you about another volunteer idea.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful. I’m on my way to do a teacher evaluation and you’re obviously expected in Mrs. Frost’s class, but please call me later.”

  He nodded. “Look forward to talking to you.”

  The weird part was just how much he found himself looking forward to it.

  SHAY MORGAN IS AN intuitive genius. Even if he hadn’t been thrilled with her criticism when they first met, Mark had never been more grateful for taking someone’s advice than he was at this moment. Although he’d predicted his daughter would be happy to see him—as far as he knew, kids didn’t reach the stage where they pretended not to know their parents in public until at least age ten—he hadn’t anticipated the depth of Vicki’s joy. After he’d situated himself in the reading chair and Mrs. Frost had told the children that they could uncover their eyes, Vicki had shrieked, “Daddy!” with the kind of delight he thought was reserved for events like a new puppy. Or even a pony. Yet his daughter’s face was shining with more giddy surprise than she’d shown on Christmas morning, surrounded by new toys.

  It was bolstering. Seeing how excited she was to have him around, he believed for the first time in a long time that maybe he would be enough. Maybe if he strengthened their bond, she could be content instead of constantly feeling the lack of a mother.

  While his daughter’s smile was definitely the brightest, all of the children seemed pleased to have him there. Mrs. Frost, a round-faced woman with faded red hair and paint smears on her long denim skirt, commented that it was a rare treat for a dad to visit their classroom. Feeling like a superhero whose power was reading, he launched into the book. When he’d asked if any of the kids already knew it, they’d shaken their heads. He hadn’t even passed the first page when he got his first laughs from the audience. He’d been lucky to have that box in his trunk and would have to remember to thank Dee later.

  Finally, Mrs. Frost interrupted to tell the class they needed to prepare for their turn in the cafeteria—the first grade ate so early Mark wasn’t sure it could technically be called lunch. At the request of several children, he wrote down the title and author of the book so that interested readers could finish the story on their own or with their parents. As he stood to go, Vicki ran to give him a hug.

  “Thank you for coming to my class,” she said.

  “You’re welcome, Bug.”

  “Wanna stay and have lunch with me?”

  He wavered indecisively, having already missed a chunk of work today. “Another time?”

  “Okay.”

  “But I’m going to do more stuff with your class, I promise. I’ll stop by the front office and see if there’s anything I can help with at night, when I’m not supposed to be at the store.”

  “You mean it?”

  “Abso-posi-lutely.”

  True to his word, he spoke to Roberta Cree on his way out and discovered that there was a Woodside spirit night coming up at the local skating rink. He got the number for the person in charge so that he could call to volunteer his services as a chaperone.

  Roberta skewered him with a pointed glance. “Was there something else you needed, Mr. Hathaway?”

  “What? Oh. No. Sorry.”

  He realized with a start that he’d been lingering in the front office even though he already had what he needed and really should be getting back to work. Chastised, he turned to go. And assured himself that he had not been delaying in a subconscious and somewhat juvenile attempt to run into Shay Morgan.

  “PRINCIPAL MORGAN, I MAY need your help.”

  Shay looked up from her notes for the Thursday morning announcements with a smile. “That’s what I’m here for, Mrs. Frost. Please, come in.” She was glad for the opportunity to assist, to win over the faculty even if it was one member at a time. “What can I do for you?”

  Mrs. Frost sighed. “With everything you must have on your schedule, I feel silly coming to you with something so small, but…”

  “If it affects a student, nothing is to
o small for my time. Would you like to have a seat?”

  “That’s all right. I need to get back to my classroom before the kids start arriving, so I only have a minute.” The teacher fidgeted with the reading glasses she wore on a gold chain around her neck. “I got an email last night from a parent. I know you’ve only been with us a few weeks, but I trust you’re familiar with PTA vice president Carolyn Moon?”

  Painfully so. “I am. Is Mrs. Moon unhappy about something?” Shay asked sympathetically.

  Mrs. Frost nodded. “Mark Hathaway, another one of my parents, read to the class yesterday.”

  At the mention of Mark’s name, a shiver of static electricity passed over Shay’s body. Vicki’s dad had amazing silvery eyes—and an even more amazing smile she sensed he didn’t use enough. “Right. I encouraged him to get more involved and was pleased to note he was following through. Did…it not go well?”

  “He was great! The kids loved him, so much that Lorelai Moon went to the media center during her afternoon free center and checked out the book he’d started. It was a chapter book, a bit above grade level, and we didn’t have time to finish. Unfortunately, in one of the later chapters, the older brother in the story discusses with his younger brother that there’s no Santa Claus. Lorelai became very upset with this scene and the suggestion that all parents are big fat liars.”

  “Ergo Lorelai’s mother is very upset.” Shay suppressed a groan.

  “Her reasoning was that he probably hadn’t even read the book all the way through before, which made it an irresponsible selection for sharing with a roomful of six-year-olds and that he should have stuck to something more age appropriate.” Mrs. Frost narrowed her eyes. They glimmered with momentary feistiness. “Of course, this is the same woman who encourages her daughter to strive for higher reading levels. Half the books Lorelai checks out are intended for third graders or above!”

  The teacher drew a steadying breath. “I can send an email out to my class parents suggesting that future readers stick to picture books, simply because they’re easier to finish in the time allotted. But Mrs. Moon is demanding that I speak to Mr. Hathaway about his ‘inappropriate choice’ to make sure nothing like this happens again. The last thing I want to do is discourage a parent who’s just made his first foray into the classroom! However…”