“You feel like you need to mollify Carolyn,” Shay deduced.
“Call me a big coward,” Mrs. Frost said apologetically, “but I would hate to get caught between two of my parents. That could make some of our spring events awkward. I was hoping I could pass the buck.”
“Of course. That’s part of my job, handling the politics so that my teachers are free to focus on educating instead of toxic parents.” After a beat, Shay added, “You do know I was speaking in generalities and not actually calling our PTA vice president toxic.”
Mrs. Frost grinned. “Oh, I knew exactly what you meant.”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” Shay said.
“I haven’t responded to Mrs. Moon yet. Can I tell her that you’ve agreed to discuss the situation with Mr. Hathaway?”
“Actually, why don’t you hold off on emailing her? I’ll get in touch with her on your behalf, let her know that you dutifully passed on her concerns.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Frost’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I’m sure you’ll handle the situation very diplomatically. And no doubt Mr. Hathaway will appreciate hearing from you instead of me. Rebuke probably doesn’t sting as much when it’s delivered by a pretty young blonde.”
Shay’s smile faltered. She knew that Mrs. Frost hadn’t meant anything demeaning or disrespectful by her casual comment, but to a professional woman who occasionally struggled to get her colleagues, not to mention her parents, to take her seriously, it rankled. At a holiday-themed district fundraiser, the wife of one of the school board members had “congratulated” Shay on her appointment to Woodside. Knowing that the woman was reportedly bitter over her husband’s numerous affairs hadn’t made the moment less uncomfortable.
“Quite a coup for you, dear, becoming principal at your age. Why, you don’t even have your doctorate.” It wasn’t a job requirement, but principals and even some vice principals holding PhDs was becoming more common in many districts. Then she’d flashed a smile that wasn’t even in the same time zone as her eyes. “But the superintendent obviously sees your…other attributes.”
“Is everything all right?” Mrs. Frost asked with a frown.
“Right as rain,” Shay said, borrowing an old expression of her mother’s. “You go ahead, see to your class, and I’ll make sure I find time today to speak with Mrs. Moon and Mr. Hathaway.” She thought about Carolyn Moon’s perpetually pinched expression and then about Mark Hathaway, who had made her feel momentarily light-headed when he’d grinned down at her yesterday.
She added Geneva to her mental “will call” list. Today might require a little coconut-and-chocolate therapy.
“UP A CREEK. MARK HATHAWAY speaking.”
Shay smiled into the receiver. Mark’s voice was a lovely contrast to the hostile man who’d just finished screaming at her about his daughter’s grades. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hathaway. It’s Principal Morgan.”
“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said quickly. “When I told you yesterday that I wanted to discuss a volunteer opportunity, I wasn’t just being flippant. I truly—”
She chuckled softly. “I believe you. I wasn’t calling to nag.”
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Don’t tell me, Vicki’s hacked into the school website and has posted my picture with the caption ‘please marry this man.’”
Shay laughed outright this time. A few minutes’ conversation with Mark was proving nearly as effective as one of Geneva’s handmade dark chocolate bites rolled in shaved coconut and crushed macadamia pieces. “Nothing that serious. But I did have one minor thing I needed to mention. You know the book that you read to Vicki’s class yesterday?”
“Yeah. She wanted us to finish it together last night, but we ran out of time before she had to go to bed.”
“If you’re reading it out loud to her, you might want to do some selective editing. We had a parent complaint that the story explains that there’s not really a Santa Claus.”
There was a long silence. “Oops.”
“On the flip side, this is a public school, a melting pot of ages and cultural backgrounds. Occasionally kids in older grades will tell younger students that Santa doesn’t exist, and some families don’t observe the Santa tradition at all, so it’s not as if this ‘controversy’ never arises.” Shay stopped, bemused by her efforts to console him over the honest mistake. “Anyway, just as a general rule of thumb, you should probably stick to books for younger readers or make sure you’re familiar with the content before you share them. Actually, the latter is probably the best practice since even different children’s authors can vary wildly in what they deem appropriate.”
“Of course.”
“And I hope my calling in no way dissuades you from coming back. Mrs. Frost said you were a big hit with the kids.”
“Just not with the parents,” he said ruefully. “Which probably makes this a bad time to talk about further volunteer efforts.”
“Not at all! What did you have in mind?” She was eager for him to try again—partly for his own benefit but also so she’d be secure in the knowledge that she hadn’t run off a wonderful new volunteer.
“Well, I’ve already signed up for the skate night next week.”
“Fantastic. When I had my own classroom, I always went to our skate nights, but I haven’t laced up a pair of roller skates in a few years. No laughing if you see me on Tuesday, okay?”
“Not to your face, anyway.”
“Oh, and I suppose you’re an expert,” she scoffed.
“Sports and recreation guru, remember? My store sells in-line skates and I used to do beginner seminars in the empty lot behind us. Did you know you can burn 1,200 calories in about two and a half hours?”
Great. That was probably the approximate calorie count of one dark chocolate ball. With a sigh, she resolved to visit Geneva at her store less and in her workout room more.
“Anyway, the rink rents traditional roller skates, but they allow you to bring in your own in-line skates if you have them. I know where you could get a great deal on a pair if you’re interested,” he teased.
“So was the skate night what you wanted to discuss with me yesterday?” she asked.
“Uh, no.” His previously joking tone became bashful. “Turns out, Vicki wanted to be a Campside Girl. She confirmed what you told me, about there not being enough leaders. So, I was wondering. I know they’re the Campside Girls, but are men allowed to be troop leaders?”
Shay was thrown by his request. Being a troop leader would take a serious time investment, far more than a single classroom visit or an event like the Fitness Fair, which required a lot of preparation but had a definitive end date. “Okay, I have to ask,” she said, recalling what he’d said during their first meeting but keeping her tone light, “you wouldn’t try to revive our school’s Campside Girls chapter just to garner a few equipment sales at your store, right?”
“Not just to boost sales, no.”
The smile in his voice reassured her that he hadn’t taken offense. “I’ll check into it for you. I bet you’d look smashing in the traditional Campside Girls uniform and butterfly beret.”
Instead of retorting with a joke of his own, he replied solemnly, “I’d wear it in a heartbeat if it made my daughter’s life better.”
Shay blinked, touched by his earnest words. Mark and Vicki might not physically resemble each other but, recalling the little girl’s hug on Monday, Shay realized that father and daughter had a lot in common. Currently topping the list was how much they both tugged at her heartstrings.
Chapter Six
“This isn’t really what you guys do for fun in Braeden, is it?” Shay couldn’t resist needling Geneva as they climbed out of her friend’s two-door car, parallel parked across from town hall.
Geneva pocketed her keys, giving her a pointed look across the car’s roof. “Oh, like you had such hot plans for your Thursday night before I invited you to tag along?”
Finalizing a state grant request for musi
c education at Woodside probably didn’t qualify as “hot.”
“As a local small business owner,” Geneva said, “it behooves me to network at these council meetings. And it behooves you, as a single woman new to town, to mingle. Have you met one guy since you moved here who wasn’t a school kid enrolled in grades K through five?”
Mark Hathaway.
This wasn’t a new thought—the man had been on Shay’s mind all afternoon. First they’d had their phone conversation, which had been both charming and poignant. Then she’d called Carolyn Moon to let her know the situation was resolved; when the churlish woman seemed unwilling to drop her grudge, Shay had found herself defending Mark’s innocent mistake.
Geneva stopped in her tracks, studying Shay intently beneath the streetlights. “Ohmigosh, have you met a man?”
“Lots of them,” Shay prevaricated. “Fathers, a few male teachers, members of the school board.”
“No one who isn’t work-related?” Geneva pressed.
“Nope.” And that was the God’s honest truth.
“If you had, though, you’d tell me, right? As your closest friend here in Braeden, the person who could withhold coconut-macadamia bars from you?”
Shay snorted. “That sounds more like extortion than friendship. Could we please hurry it up inside? It’s freezing out here.”
Secretly, she was grateful for the stinging cold—it gave her an easy excuse for rosy cheeks. When they’d been kids, her brother Bastien had found it amusing to tease her until she blushed, which was impossible to hide with her fair coloring. But she wasn’t a kid now; the fact that thinking about Mark could bring color to her face made her feel silly.
It was warm and cheerfully noisy inside. Although there wasn’t a huge crowd, at least a couple of people dotted each row of seats. At the front of the room, chairs on the dais were still empty as council members worked the floor, shaking hands and greeting citizens by name.
But Shay was a little surprised to hear someone call her name.
“Principal Morgan?”
Even before she turned, she recognized the voice. And felt her cheeks warming again, darn it. “Mr. Hathaway. Nice to see you.” Boy, was it! Standing one row behind her, Mark was dressed more casually than on the previous occasions when he’d come from work. He wore a pair of faded jeans that fit as if he’d spent years breaking them in and a battered leather jacket over a charcoal V-neck that made his eyes even more intense. Shay wondered if anyone had ever suggested he dress like this to manage his store—he’d be able to sell the women of Braeden anything he wanted.
The only thing in the room as strong as Mark Hathaway’s appeal was the power of Geneva’s curiosity. Shay could feel her friend’s questioning stare bore right through her. “Mr. Hathaway, this is my friend Geneva Daniels.”
Mark smiled. “We’ve met once or twice. You run Book ’Em, right? My wife used to take our daughter, Vicki, in to the bookstore for story time. And as I recall, you sell a wicked cup of coffee.”
“That’s me.” Geneva was all dimples as she nodded. “So is your daughter how you know Shay? Through the school, I mean?”
Mark’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling as he exchanged amused glances with Shay. “Oh, yeah. Thanks to Vicki, I got called to the principal’s office last week. Your friend here really knows how to lay down the law with parents.”
“Hey,” Shay protested with mock indignation. “It’s not like I’m an ogre.”
His gaze, still locked with hers, turned smoky. “Definitely not.”
Moments like this must be how the cliché originated. Because for a brief second, Shay honestly did feel as if they were the only two in the room. She gave herself a mental shake. What was she, thirteen? The only way she could possibly be more trite was if their eyes had locked through the crowd, at a distance.
Nope, very little distance here, an irreverent corner of her mind noted happily. The only thing between them was a folding chair. On the other side of the metal, Mark stood close enough that she could breathe in the crisp, clean scent of soap and fainter smell of leather. When she realized she was on the verge of closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, she took a step backward. How could she ever expect parents and faculty to take her seriously if she swooned her way through a town council meeting?
“Ow,” Geneva complained. “You mashed my toe.”
“S-sorry,” Shay said. “Maybe we should just take our seats. They’ll probably be starting soon, don’t you think?”
“We’ve got empty seats in our row,” Mark said. “You could come sit with us.”
“‘Us?’ You and your wife?” Geneva asked, making Shay wince.
“Mark’s widowed,” Shay said quickly, wanting to spare him the explanation.
“Oh. God, I’m so sorry.”
Shay knew her friend was offering condolences both for the loss of his spouse and her question.
Mark inclined his head in gracious acceptance. “Actually I’m here with a buddy of mine. We were planning to grab some barbecue after the meeting, if you ladies would like to join us.” He pointed across the room where an extremely tall man with broad shoulders stood in conversation with a council member in a suit and tie. “Cade Montgomery, carpenter and expert river guide.”
Geneva’s lips parted in a silent O, but she quickly regained her composure. “We’d love to have dinner with you.”
The chairs were spaced very closely together, with little room left for maneuvering. To join the men in their row, Geneva and Shay first wound their way back to the center aisle. Shay took the opportunity to jab her friend in the shoulder.
“We couldn’t have discussed the dinner idea first?” Shay demanded in a whisper.
“Oh, come on, did you see Cade Montgomery? I can’t wait to see him up close! Besides, it looked like you and Mark had some chemistry of your own.”
“He’s a dad at the school,” Shay said, “who may not be over his wife. And you know I’m not interested in dating anyone right now.”
“Well, I might be! Do this for me, please? It won’t kill you to have some yummy barbecue and an hour or so of pleasant conversation. Just don’t do any flirting with Cade. Since you’re not interested in men, I don’t feel guilty about calling dibs.”
Shay chuckled at her friend’s phrasing. “He’s a grown man, Gen, not the last slice of cheesecake.”
Geneva grinned over her shoulder. “I was thinking more along the lines of beefcake.”
There was a certain rugged appeal about Cade. His rich brown hair was a little shaggy, his features blunt, his forehead pronounced—the cumulative effect was of overwhelming masculinity. Objectively, Shay could appreciate the beauty in that. On the other hand, she was surprised her friend could be so taken by someone like Cade with Mark Hathaway in the room.
But in a moment of totally honest self-clarity, Shay realized that if Geneva had fallen for Mark’s charm… It would have bothered me. She wasn’t sure she would have called her response jealousy—after all, she had no claim on him—but the thought of him asking out her best friend caused an unpleasant rising sensation in her stomach. Like a time she’d eaten bad eggs.
The two women reached Mark at about the same time as Cade did.
With a raised eyebrow, the carpenter/river guide smiled at Mark. “In the few minutes I was gone, you found two beautiful women and convinced them to sit with us? Outstanding.”
Grinning, Geneva thrust out her hand. “Geneva Daniels. I own a bookstore on the square.”
“Cade Montgomery.” He shook her hand. “And if I’d known you were in the bookstore, I would have taken up reading.”
Mark snorted. “Please. One entire wall of this guy’s living room is built-in bookshelves.”
“And I haven’t seen you in my store? I’m heartbroken,” Geneva said.
“I admit, I’ve fallen into the habit of buying books online, but I’m feeling a sudden civic duty to support local businesses. After the council meeting, maybe you can tell me all about what’s
new on the shelves.” Cade switched his gaze to Shay. “We haven’t met yet, either.”
Mark took over the introductions. “This is Shay Morgan.”
“The new principal at Woodside,” she added.
“You’re Ridenour’s replacement?” Cade’s eyes widened.
On the dais, the town mayor banged a gavel, inviting everyone to take their seats so that the meeting could begin. Geneva positioned herself on Cade’s right. The two men sat in the middle, with Shay on the far left. Cade muttered something to Mark. Though Shay couldn’t make out the words, she noticed that Cade poked his friend in the ribs and that Mark tried unsuccessfully to smother a laugh.
Town meetings in Braeden were conducted by the mayor, four other council members, a town manager and the town clerk, who kicked things off by reading the minutes of last month’s session. Official business consisted of amending several local ordinances, naming the contractor who had been chosen for a historic building restoration and finalizing plans for the upcoming, Valentine-themed “Have a Heart” blood drive. Then the council opened the meeting for comments, questions and concerns from the floor.
Cade Montgomery was recognized and got to his feet. “We should take this opportunity to welcome Principal Shay Morgan, who’s new to Braeden and attending her first town meeting. I hear she’s doing a fantastic job over at Woodside watching out for the town’s little ones and making sure they get the best education possible.”
Shay was startled by this unexpected acknowledgment and the applause that followed.
“You should stand up and wave,” Mark whispered.
She did, even though it made her feel as if she were on the back of some parade float. From her standing position, she couldn’t miss the woman three rows up who turned—Carolyn Moon. Oh, joy. The woman’s gaze dropped from Shay to Mark, seated next to her, and she narrowed her green eyes. Shay plopped down in her seat.
His Valentine Surprise Page 7