Best Laid Plans

by Kristi Rose

Precious said, “Its believed if a bird dies at your feet something bad is going to happen.”

  2

  Saturday - Mid September

  I woke to my sister misting me with a squirt bottle.

  “Pleeg,” I said, blowing hair from my mouth while wiping the dew from my face. I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow.

  “Get up.” She pushed my head into the bed. “You have seven minutes before you’re expected to take pictures at Fall Festival.”

  I’d heard through the grapevine, aka Precious, that the Village Garden School had committed to hosting the photography booth as part of a clever strategy to beholden the school to the community, to win over those holdouts that begrudged a different school outshining the regular old schools. Anytime a person looked at their picture, they’d think of the charter school.

  “Go away,” I mumbled. I’d stayed up way too late watching YouTube videos on how to be a PI.

  I was living off the dregs of a small windfall left behind by my lying bigamist husband. I’d used a portion to fix the air conditioner in LC, my classic Jeep Wagoneer. Working the case of my not-husband’s unexpected death left me battered and bruised, so I’d taken a budget trip to Hawaii to reset. What was left was earmarked for rent and food. I needed to step up my game or else I would be dirt poor. I had my job at Ralph’s doing the online grocery shopping gig but wasn’t getting more than fifteen hours a week. LC, named after the explorers Lewis and Clark, drank those wages weekly in gas and oil.

  “Sam, come on. People are lined up. Mom is there, and she said you better not make her look bad.”

  Oh, snap. Rachel had pulled out the big guns.

  I flipped onto my back and squinted at my sister. “You’re so mean.”

  She shrugged. “Mean would be to let you sleep past ten and have Mom come and get you.”

  True.

  I rolled from the bed, groaning. “I hate taking pictures of smiling, happy people.”

  “You take pictures of us all the time.” She pushed me toward the bathroom.

  I stopped at the doorway. “I like you all. It’s everyone else. All fake smiles while the dad is thinking he can’t wait to go back to gambling away their mortgage money, or the mom is having an affair. Maybe he is, too.” I snorted with disgust. From the floor I picked up yoga pants and changed into those.

  Rachel raised her brows as she studied me “You’ve gotten cynical. One bad experience, and its changed you.”

  “Says the woman who hasn’t dated since her fiancé died.” I stepped into the bathroom to roll on underarm stink repellant, don a bra and a tunic style T-shirt.

  In my bedroom, Rachel was lying across my bed. “I’m hoping time with Dad will do wonders for Cora. She isn’t around men a lot.”

  “When Dad’s done with her, she’ll be a boss at picking her own fantasy league,” I said. “She’s an amazing kid, and that’s all because of you.”

  “But maybe I should date,” Rachel mused.

  “Maybe think about that when you get back. You’ve got a lot on your plate.” On Monday we would fly to Virginia with Rachel to see her ship out. Pretending that her deployment wasn’t a big deal while focusing on everything else, regardless of how insignificant, kept us from impromptu crying episodes.

  My phone rang, and we looked at each other.

  “Ten o’clock,” Rachel said. “You’re officially late.”

  “Crap.” I stuffed my feet in UGGs. I pushed my hair back with a fabric headband and ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth. “This is the bad omen from that bird,” I called to Rachel.

  She groaned. “I hope so. I know it’s a silly superstition, but I don’t need one more thing to worry about.”

  The ringing continued.

  “Grab that,” I yelled before sticking the toothbrush in my mouth.

  “Not on your life,” she said.

  My mom and I might not agree with how my life was playing out, but I wasn’t interested in making her look bad or upsetting her any more than I already did. She was the town mayor and one day aspired to run the world. Or the school board. Whichever came first.

  At the door I grabbed my camera case. Then Rachel and I dashed out. I lived in a simple four-room apartment over my dad’s newspaper. Living room-kitchen combo, bathroom, and bedroom. The place used to be an Airbnb and extra cash for my parents, so the decor was nice and inviting.

  The newspaper office, and apartment, were half a block from the downtown park where the Fall Festival was happening. We didn’t have far to hustle. But as we drew closer, I slowed. I wasn’t about to rush up looking flustered.

  The park butted up against the Windy River and was swarming with families. Countless booths ran the perimeter of the park and offered food, information for community programs, face painting, and so much more. The photography booth was near the entrance and set up to look like a library. Two tall shelves stacked with books were the backdrop surrounding a small stage. A line of people waited.

  “Crap,” I mumbled.

  My mom stood at the head of the line with one hand on her hip and one arm around Cora. She raised a brow. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

  Besides not wanting to do this, the hour too early for me, and I hadn’t had coffee? Nope.

  I was setting up my camera when Precious stepped into the space. She held out a large paper cup that was filled with nectar from the gods.

  “Is that coffee?” I took the cup and inhaled the steam coming from the tiny hole in the lid.

  She nodded. “I figured it was for the good of the entire event and, particularly, the families that requested photos.” She wore wild, flower-patterned black leggings under a formfitting black tunic and knee-high black boots. Precious was the descendant of Germans. She stood six feet with naturally platinum blond hair. Her personality was big, her breasts even more so. But her heart was ginormous. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail using a black Ponytail Beanie and looked the picture of a successful adult. Put together.

  She continued, “And if you find that to not be enough,”—she pointed behind the bookcase — “June’s right behind you.”

  I glanced behind the shelves. June and one other teenager staff were serving up drip coffee and scones.

  I said to June, “Best part of this whole thing is knowing scones are right behind me.”

  She smiled and handed me a mini scone on a napkin. “On the house.”

  “You’re a savior,” I told her before shoving the entire treat in my mouth.

  My mother cleared her throat, but it didn’t keep the irritation out of her voice. “Samantha?”

  “I got this, Mrs. True,” Precious told my mom.

  She turned to the crowd and explained the procedure for getting their picture taken. They were to put their names on the provided list in numeric order and include their phone numbers and email. I would catalog their names with the coordinating picture frame number. Precious also told them that mistakes were bound to happen so be patient and kind. Precious was a natural leader and organizer.

  “Weren’t you wearing this yesterday?” my mother asked. She gave me a pointed look after scanning me up and down.

  “At least I’m here,” I pointed out. I gave Cora a tickly hug that made her laugh then turned to the crowd.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” I said, then groaned from annoyance. I’d rather be anywhere but here. Based on the surprised look on the faces of my mom and the families in line, I must have groaned out loud.

  Forty minutes into snapping images of several families with plastered-on smiles, I was looking for an excuse to take a break when Principal Josh popped up. Hands in pockets and a toothy smile on his face, he said, “I suppose right on time is still considered on time. I’m a five minutes early guy.” He rubbed my back. “This is a flattering look for you.”

  His mannerisms were so weird. Was he reprimanding me? Or flirting?

  An appropriate response eluded me.

  Principal Josh continued, “It takes a villa
ge to raise productive adults, Samantha. We appreciate you doing your part. But remember, you’re a role model and be mindful of the message you’re sending.” He massaged my shoulders.

  Reprimanding, I decided. See, here’s the thing. Guilt didn’t work on me unless it was from my parents. I wasn’t wired like most people. Having dyslexia and struggling through school taught me that sometimes other’s expectations were unattainable and that those requirements were on them, not me. Besides, it didn’t hurt to teach kids that, even as an adult, we get flustered or have bad days.

  I was about to tell Principal Josh with his Calvin and Hobbes tie, which was super cool, to kiss my heinie I opened my mouth to say something unkind but Principal Josh interrupted.

  “Oh, the PTC ladies and I are meeting Tuesday after next at How Ya Bean Coffee shop. Come by and get pictures.”

  The only good thing about being the “school photographer” was the fact that the PTC met at a coffee shop. “I got a fair number of pics from the last meeting.” I signaled for the next family to take their place on the stage.

  “More is always a good thing. Besides, it’s important to me you become a part of Team VGS.” He squeezed my shoulder. VGS was Village Garden School, and I’d rather be on a team doing an excursion into hell than to go to another PTC meeting with the snooty moms with their Range Rovers and Hunter boots.

  A tall woman with long straight brown hair and blue eyes came up to Principal Josh and cupped his elbow. She was dressed like everyone in the PNW: leggings, a T-shirt, and a long sweater-like jacket over it. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

  “Hey,” she said to me then focused on Principal Josh.

  He faced her, his smile wide and open. “Hey, babe, you all set to ease parent’s minds?”

  She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. “Where did you get that water you brought for the run?”

  As part of the festival a small 2.5 K kick off at eleven.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t have time to run to the store, so I grabbed your stock from the garage.”

  She groaned. “That’s part of my”—she lowered her voice — “cache.”

  Principal Josh’s smile wavered. “I’ll replace it. Don’t freak out. It’s not like you need it today.”

  Babe’s eyes went wide. Freak out might not have been impending, but it was now. Telling someone to not freak out is a stupid thing to do. He was being dismissive, and she was about to let him have it.

  I snapped a few pictures, dismissed a family with a wave of my hand and told the next family to take their place. Hoping Babe and Principal Josh would continue their conversation without taking it elsewhere. I was nothing if not curious.

  “I’ll decide when to freak out or not. You helping yourself to my stuff without asking feels like I should freak out,” she said vehemently.

  “It’s just water. It’s not like you can’t get more, and I said I would replace it.” Principal Josh did not sound like he was smiling.

  “Kids in front,” I said like I was paying attention to my job and not the drama behind me.

  Babe scoffed. “See that you do,” she said. “And anything else you might have helped yourself to.”

  I bent to dig out a lens from my camera bag and watched her stalk off. She went across the park and behind a booth with a Danner Pesticide banner across the top. An older, tall, stocky man about the same age as my father was waiting there. He said something to her, and she gave him a dismissive wave. He looked slightly familiar as well.

  I turned, curious to see Principal Josh’s face. A tall teen with brown hair and side-swept bangs was inches from the principal.

  “What do you want?” Principal Josh asked.

  Nope, his Joker smile gone, replaced by a thin press of his lips.

  “Wait till she finds out about the other stuff you took,” the teen said with a snarl.

  Principal Josh scoffed.

  The teen leaned closer to Josh, fist clenched, his voice low and menacing. “You better replace everything, including the batteries and gas.” The teen snorted, his nostrils flared. “Yeah, I know about that.” The teen’s anger was radiating off him.

  I stepped off the stage, prepared to break up a fight.

  “And what if I don’t?” Josh hissed. “What are you going to do?”

  “I have options. For starters, I can tell everyone about you and that lady getting it on in your car. And about your smoking habit. For starters.”

  Beside me, June gasped.

  I was less shocked by the exchange, but more by the teen’s aggressive mannerisms. Like the kid had a chance taking on an adult. And to do so in such a public venue.

  I shook my head with disbelief.

  Principal Josh tossed back his head and laughed. The Joker smile had returned. He said, “Careful. If we’re telling secrets, I think you might have a few you wouldn’t want uncovered.” He slapped the kid on the back and strolled off as if nothing untoward had happened.

  I looked at June, confused. Anger etched her face. She rolled her eyes and returned to serving her long line of patrons.

  I turned my attention back to the families in line. No one but me and June seemed to have seen and heard the interaction. I caught my mom as she, Rachel, and Cora were walking by.

  “Hey,” I asked. “Is it weird that Danner pesticide is here? Pesticide doesn’t feel festive.”

  My mom picked imaginary lint off my tunic. “The school has a policy that when the property’s sprayed with pesticides, parents can opt in or out on notification. Danner does the spraying. They’re here to field questions.”

  I nodded to the booth. “That’s the owners?” Father and daughter maybe?

  Mom glanced at the booth. “Yes, sorta. You don’t remember Laura Danner? Oh, I can’t recall her maiden name. But she was a grade or two ahead of Rachel. She married Carl Danner. That’s his father, Lyle, with Laura.”

  Realization dawned. “Carl was killed a few years ago, right? Changing a tire on the side of the road and someone hit him?” The story was tragic.

  Mom nodded, looking sad. “Yes, and it wasn’t even his tire. He’d stopped to help a stranger. Left two kids behind. Levi and Lanie.”

  “She’s dating Principal Josh?” I remembered Carl as a big, scrappy guy who looked like he could survive any situation. Not exactly in the same class of man as the principal. I wanted to slap myself upside that head. That was who the teen was. Levi Danner.

  Mom smiled. “They’ve been dating for a few months. Good for her, she deserves to be happy. More importantly, it’s probably good for Levi, too. He’s struggled and having a good male role model in his life might be a positive thing.” She licked her finger then wiped something off my face.

  “Gross, mom,” I said, jerking back.

  “You’re so pretty, Sam. You should take more time with yourself.”

  “I should take these folk’s picture,” I said and pointed my camera at the impatiently waiting family.

  “You’re so good at this, honey. Don’t you miss taking pictures?” She draped an arm around Cora’s shoulders, who was face deep into a shaved ice, and steered her away.

  I looked at the irritated expression of the dad. Yep, I was so good at this. Not!

  “Smile,” I said with a fake cheery voice and bit back a laugh at the dad’s scowl.

  3

  Tuesday - Second Week in October

  Two weeks ago, my parents and I had flown to Virginia to wave good-bye to my sister Rachel as she deployed on the Naval aircraft carrier Enterprise. We then spent the subsequent days coddling her six-year Cora who we now were responsible for.

  Well, not me exactly. Rachel didn’t believe I had it in me to be solely responsible for Cora. Instead, volunteering at Cora’s school was my assignment. Spying on my niece, her friends, and teachers to make sure every day was butterflies and rainbows. Not a useful way to use my newly gained private investigator license and blooming skills, if you asked me. Not that anyone had.

&nbs
p; Yet, here I was. Dressed in faded jeans with holes in my knees, a kelly-green long sleeve T-shirt, and my favorite canvas Jack Purcell low top white Converses. My destination was the local coffee shop. My task was to get candids of Cora’s school’s parent-teacher collaboration. A volunteer job I was told to do. Would I rather ride a horse buck naked through town before spending time with the Uber bossy hipster moms of Village Garden School? Yes, I would. A horse can speed through town. Time with the moms was gonna crawl.

  On a whim, I printed up a flyer and cheap business cards for my PI business with hopes to leave them at the coffee shop. The worry of diminished finances weighing on me. My private investigator business wasn’t bringing in any money. Because I had no clients. I had no clients because I felt like a poser, a pretend PI. That would only change when I changed how I saw myself.

  “Morning, June,” I called as the front door swung closed behind me. I’d wanted to arrive before the Barbie Brigade—Rachel’s term, not mine—but they were already there.

  “How ya bean?” June said with a smile. Petite, a natural blond with pink cheeks and cornflower blue eyes, she was the cutest and softest person I knew. She never raised her voice, always wore pastels, and looked sunny even on the grayest of days. She was a whiz with coffee. Starting from roasting the beans to adding any kind of sweet extra. Often, I depended on her creations to get through the day. As I was sure most of us did.

  One day June would be a perfect addition to the Barbie Brigade; only she’d have to give up her pastels and her sunny disposition. For me, stay-at-home moms fell into one of two categories. The harried, haven’t-brushed-their-teeth-or-hair-in-a-week moms. Or this group. The Hunter boots, yoga pants, tight T-shirts with the puffy vest over them. None matching but all coordinating. Their lipstick was precise. Their hair not mussed. It baffled the mind on how they achieved it.

  My guess was they took their kid’s attention deficit meds. But that was me being judgy.

  “I have Unicorn Brew today. You want one?” June asked.