by Liz Adair
Mandy was so surprised by Grange’s words that she couldn’t reply. Feeling as if she had been kicked in the stomach, she hugged the files to her and stood with her mouth open.
Grange apparently didn’t notice, because he went on without a pause. “By the time the classified union gets done with us, we’ll have to let another teacher go.”
That accusation helped Mandy find her voice, and she didn’t even try to keep the edge out of it. “Don’t be absurd! Two things are operative here. First, I didn’t act without legal advice. I knew I was on pretty solid ground, but I called the State Superintendent’s office and talked to their guru. Secondly, I would most forcibly remind the union that they represent all the drivers, not just the ones with most seniority.” Mandy’s voice rose as she warmed to her subject. “And by the way, do you know why Harvey and Les have all that wretched seniority? Because no one will stay in the job. They can’t afford to. There is no equity. Have you seen the figures on the turnover rate? How can you hope to retain good people if you don’t treat them like they have value?”
“Interesting,” Grange said through gritted teeth. “I wish you could hear yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re lecturing me about the district as if you’re not a part of it. You said, ‘How can you hope to retain good people.’ You didn’t use we.”
“Well, I’ll tell you, pretty much everyone has been doing everything they can to convince me that I’m not a part of any we, and I never will be.” Mandy slapped the files against her hand. “But I’m not yet convinced. Now, Mr. Timberlain, do you understand that I need to see anything that goes out of this office on a document with my signature?”
“And do you understand that the district will be better served by collaboration?”
“The two do not equate. I am asking you to adhere to standard protocol. You are asking to be included in making policy.”
Grange stood. “The policy is made, Dr. Steenburg. Your job— your extremely well-paying job— is to not get in the way.”
Mandy had no chance to step her usual three paces away, though Grange’s office was so small she would have been hard pressed to do so. She found herself looking up at him like a child, and her anger boiled over. “What I saw at the bus garage wasn’t policy, Mr. Timberlain. It was laissez faire that bordered on neglect because you’re afraid of the driver’s union.” She turned on her heel then stalked out of the room and down the hall to her own office, where she closed the door with more force than she meant to. She set the files on her desk, and then, with trembling hands, she put on her jacket and gathered her keys. As she turned out her light, she hoped mightily that she could get past Grange’s office and downstairs before he decided to leave.
She glanced through his door as she hurried past, but he was hunched over his desk with his back to her. She exhaled a great sigh and fled down the stairs, through the reception area, and out the front door.
Not wanting to stand in the rain looking for the Miata key on her ring, she stopped at the edge of the porch to find it. Intent on her task, she didn’t see the black Escalade until it had pulled up in front of her.
THE DRIVER’S TINTED window rolled smoothly down, revealing Vince Laffitte’s angular face. “You’re frowning,” he said.
Mandy looked up and smiled. “My keys seem to have multiplied in the darkness of my purse. I was trying to find the one to my car.”
“I see you’re just leaving. Do you have time to talk for a moment?”
She hesitated, looking back at the door to the district offices.
“Why don’t you sit in here with me for a minute? It’s warm and dry. We can talk briefly, and then I’ll give you a lift to your car.”
She laughed. “Clear across the parking lot?”
“As far as you want.” He leaned over and opened the passenger door.
She hurried down the steps, around the sleek front end of the car, and climbed in. The interior smelled of new leather and aftershave, and as she set her purse down on the floor, she was aware of her nearness to Vince and the intimacy of the moment. Before she could find something light to say, he spoke. “I was going to ask why you were frowning, but I see now.”
She followed his gaze and saw that Grange had just come out and was locking the front door. Looking like a storm cloud, he descended the stairs and walked in front of the Escalade, nodding curtly to Vince as he did so.
“Yes,” Mandy said. “We’ve been crossing swords.”
Vince held her eyes for a moment, and then his teeth flashed in that attractive smile. “I believe you could hold your own in any fencing match.”
“Thank you for that vote of confidence.” She watched as Grange stalked toward his truck, head down, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.
“I hear you’ve been cutting a wide swath.”
She looked back at Vince and raised a brow.
“Mutt Maypole works for me. Nettie’s husband.”
They both turned their heads at the sound of spraying gravel and watched Grange roar out of the parking lot.
Vince murmured, “Mature.”
Mandy looked down at her hands and compressed her lips to keep the corners from turning up, unwilling to join him in making fun of Grange. She said instead, “Nettie thought she ought to have a copyright on a potato recipe.”
“Did you convince her otherwise?”
Mandy shook her head. “I didn’t try. I left that with Arvella Shonefeld. She’s the head of the food services department now, and along with the title comes responsibility for harmony in the ranks. She says she’s going to give Nettie credit. She says she’ll do it with an ostrick.”
Vince looked puzzled. “A what?”
“An ostrick.” Mandy’s eyes twinkled. “As she says, ‘You know, one of them little star thangs.’ I think she means she’s going to footnote on the next menu— with an asterisk— that the inspiration comes from Nettie Maypole.” Mandy chuckled. “I shouldn’t make fun. Arvella is doing a great job. She was making cream puffs for the students. Cream puffs! She gave me one, and I told her she had won my heart. I’m a sucker for anything cream filled.”
“I’ll remember that. But they’re still going to be called Tarheel Spuds?” He shook his head. “You haven’t made a friend there, you know.”
Mandy looked down at the keys she still held in her hand and nodded, an almost imperceptible movement. “Not the first, either. I seem to be not making friends all over the district.” Her eyes grew shiny, and she set the keys on the console beside her, careful not to look at Vince. “It’s all really different from what I expected.” She cleared her throat and forced a lighter note. “I meant to thank you for the daffodils.”
“I got your message. You already thanked me.”
“But not sufficiently. I was going to write a note as soon as I unpacked my stationery. Where ever did you get so many?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, why I asked you to sit with me a moment. I’d like to show you. Would you come with me tomorrow?”
Mandy cocked her head and regarded him. “Are you asking me out?”
He didn’t answer but held her gaze.
“Is that a good idea? Profession-wise, I mean, for me?”
Vince shrugged. “Call it a lunch appointment. You wanted to talk about school board business. We can do that while I show you around the district. Can I pick you up around eleven tomorrow?”
“Yes… no.” She touched her forehead with her fingers. “I forgot. I can’t. The van is coming tomorrow with my things. I’m moving in.”
“Oh? Where?”
“I’m renting from Fran Porter.”
“Oh, really? The house down by the river?”
“Yes. It’s really lovely. I feel so lucky to have found it.”
A crease appeared between his black brows. “Let’s hope your luck, and the levee, holds.”
Now it was Mandy’s turn to frown. “What do you mean?”
�
�During a high, high flood, the ground floor of that house gets two, three feet of water in it.”
She stared. “What is a high, high flood? How often do those come?”
“I guess you could consider those ten-year floods. I can remember five or six of them.”
“Which would make you sixty if they happen every ten years.”
Vince smiled. “Yeah. I guess they happen more frequently than that.”
“How frequently? When was the last one?”
“Year before last, I think. Fran bought the house after it had been flooded.” He leaned forward and turned the heater fan to low.
“I thought there was a bit of a musty smell when I went in the house the first time,” Mandy mused. “Fran didn’t say anything about it.”
“Of course not. She needs a renter right away. It cost her more than she had planned to fix it up, and she had to pay more for financing and insurance, too, because it’s in a flood zone.”
Mandy sighed. “Life is never simple, is it? Sometimes the most attractive things turn out to be disasters.”
“Don’t let me scare you. This isn’t a disaster. We’re not due for another flood that high for a few more years. You’ll have time to find another place. One on higher ground.” He picked up her keys and rubbed his thumb absently around the ring. “So, if you can’t go with me tomorrow, how about Sunday?”
“Sunday? Um, I thought I’d go to church. Can we do it in the afternoon?”
Vince shook his head. “I’ve got to be downriver in the afternoon. Come on. I’ll show you a whole field of daffodils.”
Mandy looked at the rain streaming down on the windshield. “I don’t have an umbrella or a raincoat.”
“You won’t need one. We’re going to have sun.”
“Really?”
“Cross my heart. Will you come?”
“If you promise it will shine, I’ll come.”
“Done.” His white teeth flashed. “I’ll pick you up at eleven.” He selected the Miata key from her ring and held it out to her. “I’ll take you to your car.”
He put the Escalade in gear and pulled over to her parking space. As she picked up her purse, Vince held out his hand. She gave him hers, and he said, “Till Sunday, then.”
He had a strong, confident handshake. Mandy returned the pressure and said, “I’ll be ready.”
She jumped down from the high SUV and quickly unlocked the door of her Miata, noticing that he waited until she had started the engine before he pulled away. She waved to him and drove out of the parking lot, smiling at the thought of daffodils and sunshine.
MANDY OPENED HER eyes Saturday morning to sun streaming in from the skylight in the bedroom of her new home. She sat up and looked out the front window through the posts of the balustrade. Blue sky blazed above the mountains on the other side of the river. “Wow!” she breathed. “Vince was right.”
She picked up her watch from the floor beside the air mattress to check the time and saw that it was five minutes to eight. The movers had promised they would arrive by nine. She scrambled up and hastened to shower and dress, but she found herself more than once gravitating toward the window to stare at the vibrant scenery. The conifers’ hunter green stood out against the lacy blush of bare-limbed alders, and the cloudless sky arched over all like lapis lazuli— the most intense electric blue she had ever seen.
At eight thirty she was at an east-facing window, letting the sunlight stream in on her face, when the moving van came lumbering down the road. She hurried out on the deck to wave them in, and soon she excitedly directed the crew of three where to place each piece of furniture and how to stack the boxes. Even with putting together the bed and bookcases and manhandling the old upright piano over the doorsill, the crew and van were on their way back up the hill by ten thirty. As they left, Mandy stood in the doorway of the spare bedroom and looked at the boxes filling every available inch of floor space, stacked as high as her chin.
Courage flowed in with the warm spring air as she threw open doors and windows, and she dug in with a will. Salvation came at noon in the form of her landlady. Mandy was in the kitchen, awash in a sea of crumpled newspaper, unwrapping dishes and putting them in a cupboard, when she heard Fran hallooing at the door.
“It’s open,” Mandy called.
“I’ve brought lunch, and I can stay for three hours,” Fran announced. “I brought string cheese, cold cuts and veggies. We can munch as we work. Give me a job.”
Mandy directed her to the book boxes and after that to the linens. By that time, she had finished the kitchen, and they tackled the upstairs together. They made the bed in tandem, and as Fran squared a corner to tuck in the top sheet, she said, “I heard you’ve stirred things up at the school cafeteria.”
In the act of smoothing out a wrinkle, Mandy looked up. “Who told you that?”
“Nettie Maypole came by to see Mutt, and she told me. Something about Arvella bribing you with a cream puff? Sounds farfetched to me.”
Mandy grinned. “I take it you’ve never had one of Arvella’s cream puffs.”
Fran shook her head. “Too many carbs. So, what was the deal?”
Mandy took a comforter out of a box and shook it to loft the down filling. “It was a tempest in a tea pot— something that should blow over soon.”
Frowning, Fran shook her head. “The Maypoles have long memories where grudges are concerned.”
“Well, I’m not going to lie awake nights worrying about it. I’ve got other things that have lots more precedence.” She looked at her watch. “Your three hours are up. Thanks so much, Fran. You’re my good angel.”
“No problem. I love a project. You’ve just got one layer of boxes left. If you don’t get done today, I’ll come help you tomorrow.”
Mandy dropped the empty box over the balcony railing and watched its descent. “I’m going to finish today if it kills me.”
“I have to close tonight, but I’ll look for your light when I get home. I’m right above you, did you know? I can see your upstairs light through a break in the trees.”
“Oh?” Mandy went to the balcony. “I can’t see your house.”
“No. If I cut some trees, you could, but we’d both lose privacy. There’s a trail down through the woods. Sometimes I come down to walk along the river.” She looked around. “Where’s my purse? Oh, there it is. Good luck on the rest of the boxes.”
“Thanks again.” Mandy watched her friend disappear down the circular stairway. Then she turned to open a box marked Bathroom in Leesie’s distinctive handwriting.
Things went slower without Fran, and it was way past dark by the time Mandy hung the last picture and flattened the last box. She stacked it atop the rest out on the back deck. Then she came in, locked the back door, and walked through her house. She turned on familiar lamps and looked at the furniture grouping with a critical eye. With a sigh, she sat down at the piano and played “In My Adobe Hacienda,” a slow, sweet number that Poppy, her stepfather, used to ask her to play.
“It doesn’t fit,” she murmured and sat for a minute with her hands lax on the keys. “What’s a Pacific Northwest song? I don’t think there are any.” But her fingers found a sad song about leftover dreams saved for a rainy day. She chuckled. “It fits.” Then she played an arpeggio to segue into another song about stormy weather. It was a breakup song, and the refrain about rain all the time made her suddenly feel empty, like she was hollow. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them away. “I must be hungry,” she muttered. “Either that, or I need to stop playing songs about love gone awry.”
She closed the piano and went to the kitchen to open a can of soup. When it was hot, she poured it in a mug, turned out the lights, and drifted out to sit on the front deck. The stars twinkled overhead, and in the distance she heard a pulsing, chirruping sound, like a thousand crickets, but not so shrill. A cool breeze sprang up, and above her, the eerie hoo hoo hoooo of an owl made goosebumps rise on her arms. She shivered but stayed to finish he
r soup, waiting for the hollowness to disappear.
A full moon rose and cast a shimmering, silvery reflection on the river. Mandy stared, entranced, until her attention was drawn to a stealthy sound to her right. Her heart began to pound in her chest as she searched in the shadowy bushes, and she held her breath so she could listen better. Suddenly, into the moonlit clearing of the road stepped a deer— a doe with dainty feet and an elegant muzzle. The creature took two steps then stood like a statue, and tears welled up in Mandy’s eyes once more. She sighed, and at the sound, the deer bounded away into the darkness of the woods on the other side of the road.
Mandy rubbed her arms and shivered, then stood to go inside. As she closed and locked the door, it felt as if she were shutting beauty out of her life. She put her cup in the sink and climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
Long after she lay down in her familiar bed, as she listened to the night sounds and contemplated the shadows cast by the shaft of moonlight coming in the skylight, she wondered why she should feel so sad.
SUNDAY MORNING MANDY again woke to sunshine. She lay with the covers up around her ears and smiled as she thought about her planned excursion with Vince Lafitte. I’ll go to church next Sunday, she promised herself as she flung off the covers and sat up. Looking across the river at the sunlight on the mountain, she began to sing “It’s a Lovely Day Today.”
The song stayed with her all morning. She hummed the tune, sang the words, or scatted nonsense syllables as she showered, as she put on her makeup, as she ate breakfast and did the dishes. She even sat down at the piano in her sweats and played a bouncy rendition, stopping in mid phrase as she realized that some of the bass notes were not completely in tune. She frowned, played a scale, and muttered, “Now, why didn’t I hear that last night? I must have been slightly out of tune myself.”