Chapter 2

Charlie

“With all due respect, if you’re not going to obey the rules of the school and actually listen to the parents, then you shouldn’t be teaching here.” One of the moms stood just inside my classroom door, her hand clamped down on her squirming five-year-old son’s shoulder.

Oh boy.

I forced my go-to teacher smile—tired, but kind—and inhaled through my nose. Relax, Charlie. You can’t afford to lose this job. You don’t want to lose the job. The kids are amazing. You can handle—

“Did you or did you not feed my child a banana yesterday?” The mom, Melissa, jerked her son forward a step. “Look at him! He’s pale. He came home feeling nauseated last night, and I want answers.”

Chadley—an abominable name combination of Chad and Bradley—wrinkled his little button nose and squinted up at his mom. “I’m fine, Mommy. I just had bubbles in my tummy.”

“I very clearly stated on his admission form that I don’t want him to eat any bananas.” Melissa pointed a perfectly manicured nail at me, her tennis bracelet sparkling by the light of the fluorescents overhead. “No bananas, no cherries. Nothing with grapes, either. Grapes trigger his asthma.”

That makes sense, right?

Mommy dearest took a measured step forward, the grinding of her teeth louder than the squeals and laughter from the playground outside. “And definitely no fish. We’re going vegan.” She sniffed. “How old are you?”

Well, what’s that got to do with the price of… bananas?

“Twenty-three,” I replied, as politely as humanly possible. It really wasn’t any of her business how old I was. My age didn’t restrict me from doing a good job here.

“Young,” she said. “This is why I requested an older teacher for Chadley.”

“Melissa, I assure you, your son’s dietary needs are well cared for,” I said. “We would never do anything to cause him any harm.”

The woman’s lips, caked in pink gloss—probably MAC makeup—writhed. “Fine. But if he comes home feeling ill again, you and I are going to have a serious talk about your future at this school. In fact, I’ve already mentioned this lapse to Principal Henrietta.”

My stomach sank. Oh, god. Principal Henrietta struck all kinds of terror into my heart. Not only did she hold my future at Daisy Oaks Kindergarten in her palm, but she had the temperament of a pressure cooker.

I couldn’t tell when the explosion would happen, and that made it even worse.

“I—you did? Melissa, that wasn’t necessary. Your son is well looked after here. Daisy Oaks has a history of excellence.” Only the best for the richest of the rich in Summit Springs, Utah.

The momster advanced, dragging her blond boy with her. “That’s right. Daisy Oaks has a history of excellence, but you don’t. We don’t know you. You’d do well to remember that.”

Melissa released poor Chadley, spun on her Gucci heels, and clip-clopped out of the classroom.

Well, that went well. My popularity’s on the rise, at last.

I’d only started at Daisy Oaks at the beginning of the term, and I’d already learned two things: first, the children adored me, and, second, the moms would rather see me strung up by my ankles from the big oak in the center of the playground than have me teaching their kids.

Good thing my entire livelihood and my future dreams didn’t depend on this job.

“Miss Stinson?” Chadley tugged on my sleeve. “Are you OK, Miss Stinson?”

I dropped to a crouch in front of the five-year-old, the poor cutie who’d endured cucumber sticks, carrots, and couscous, and watched in envy as his spoiled buddies decimated Twinkies during morning snack time. “I’m just fine, Chad,” I said. “How about you?”

He shrugged his little shoulders. “I heard dinosaurs lay big eggs. Do they lay big eggs?”

“They used to. They’re not alive anymore,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because they’re extinct. They died out.”

“Why?” Chadley asked.

“Because a huge rock hit the earth, exploded and…” I trailed off and ruffled his hair.

“They’re toast?” Chadley’s expression morphed into one of wonder.

“Sounds about right.” Just like I’ll be toast if your mom really spoke to Principal Henrietta. “Why don’t you head outside and play with your friends, Chad? Class starts in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, Miss Stinson.” The reply came in the automated kindergartener whine that’d been drilled into them at this school.

Chadley scooted off and out the door, and I straightened from the crouch.

I squeezed my eyes shut and let the fatigue wash over me. For the umpteenth time this month, I doubted my choice to move to Summit Springs.

Sure, my aunt—technically, my second mom—lived here, and I had a roof over my head and a great opportunity thanks to her recommendation, but still, this was hardly the happening spot for women my age.

Then again, I wasn’t anything like other women my age. I didn’t go out partying, and I preferred Netflix and chill—albeit without any of the chill—to glasses of wine and dates.

Not that it didn’t get lonely. It got super lonely, and that was exactly why I’d gone to the doctor’s this morning and wound up embarrassing myself. God, what a screw up.

Houston Pope.

Doctor Houston Pope. I’d never see him again, right? I’d never run into him and accidentally fall into his arms.

What the hell was wrong with me? I’d spent all of ten minutes in the man’s presence and I’d melted into a mushy pile of nothingness. Thankfully, the school day had kept me distracted. It was almost over, though, and after that, I’d have all the time in the world to obsess over my stupidity at lunch.

“I’m an idiot,” I muttered.

“Pardon?” Principal Henrietta’s voice whip-cracked through the classroom.

I yelped, and my eyes snapped open. “Principal,” I said and brushed off my light, cotton dress—duck’s egg blue and modest enough to appease the fussiest of the clucking mother clan. “I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s because you’re not paying attention, Charlie,” said the principal, who glared down her long hooked nose at me.

She reminded me of Nanny McPhee without the wart on her nose or the general air of well-meaning.

“I was just—”

“Jeopardizing your position at Daisy Oaks,” Principal Henrietta said, floating into the room on a cloud of expensive perfume.

The only difference between her and the momsters was the fact that she didn’t have any children. A blessing from the heavens. I shudder to think what her children would have to go through. Some sort of vetting process, no doubt.

“Melissa spoke to you about—”

“The banana, yes,” Henrietta said and halted in front of me. “Is it true that you allowed her child to eat the fruit?”

“No,” I replied. “It’s not true. I’m sorry he felt sick, but it wasn’t anything to do with bananas. I wouldn’t go against dietary regulations, Principal.” My palms were slick with sweat, which was ridiculous. I hadn’t given the kid anything that went against his mother’s instructions.

It was super difficult to keep track of every child’s requirements, but I had my head above water here.

Principal Henrietta gave me a onceover that burned through to my soul. “You know, you’re only here by recommendation,” she whispered. It was tight and filled with mistrust.

“I know,” I said.

“If it wasn’t for Pamela, I wouldn’t have considered you for the position. You’re too young. Too inexperienced, and some of the mothers have taken exception to how you dress in front of their children.”

My jaw dropped. The dress I’d chosen was loose, not form-fitting and cut off just at the knee. “I—Principal, you can surely see that I’m not wearing anything immodest.”

“It doesn’t matter what I can see,” she replied and didn’t shift focus from my face. “It matters what makes the parents and children comfortable. Daisy Oaks has a sterling reputation, and I won’t have it thrown away by recklessness.”

“I don’t plan on throwing anything away. Least of all this opportunity. I’m very grateful for it.” And that was true. I loved working with kids, and I was happy here, for the most part, but this was crazy—I hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Good,” Henrietta said. “I’m glad to hear it. And you’d do well to keep that front of mind. That and how transient life is.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Things can change, Charlotte.” She raised her thumb and index finger, then clicked. “Like that.”

“I understand.”

The principal lingered for another minute, the silence, punctuated by the happy sounds of running feet and laughter outside, building between us. Finally, she gave a tiny, curt nod, then spun on her heel and click-clacked off.

I sagged.

This was hell in a handbasket. Every day it was something new—from dietary issues to one kid pushing another kid and the parents blaming me for the disagreement. The moms and dads here expected the best. They expected royal treatment for their little ones. This was what came of working at the most exclusive kindergarten in town.

“Shake it off,” I muttered, then did exactly that. One arm, two arm, ready to go, then headed out the classroom door. The rest of the afternoon passed relatively quickly: one vomiting incident, a mini-fight on the playground, and a tantrum. So, just a regular Friday afternoon.

By the end of it, I was pretty much done.

I traipsed out to meet my aunt, Pammy, in the parking lot, the dress I’d tossed on this morning seriously worse for the wear. I slipped into the passenger seat of her VW Bug and exhaled.

“You look like you need a drink,” she said, and fluffed my hair for me. Pammy was the fiery-haired equivalent of middle-aged fun. Everything in her life revolved around men, drinks, and food. She was like if all the characters from Sex in the City had been rolled into one, with a dash of sweetness and spice a piece.

“I look like I need a shower. A long, cold one after today,” I said, and fanned my face.

The heat of summer hadn’t hit yet, but it was still way hotter than what I was used to. I rested my head on the seat and squeezed my eyes shut. “Take me home, driver.”

Pammy pinched my arm. “Don’t push it, gorgeous. Just because I love you doesn’t mean you can take me for granted. That’s what Dr. Phil says, anyway.” She started the car and the engine’s put-put-growl separated us. “Is everything OK?” She asked, above the noise.

I shrugged. “Henrietta gave me trouble today,” I said, and opened my eyes. That wasn’t the only thing that’d bothered me.

Doctor Pope had bothered me a lot more than Henrietta’s pep talk.

“She did?” Pammy and Henrietta went way back, to when dinosaurs roamed the earth—her words, not mine. “Well, we’ll just have to have a chat about that, won’t we?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I can fight my own battles.”

My aunt hesitated, looking back up at the front of Daisy Oaks, the glass doors, the mural on the wall. Finally, she exhaled and put her foot down, focused on the lot and the exit which led out into the road. “All right,” Pammy said, at last. “But when we get home, you’re telling me all about it. And then we’re going for a drink.”

Arguing that point would be futile. Once Pammy got an idea in her head she went with it. She’d milk me for information, and I’d give it to her. Except for one tiny detail I’d keep to myself. That the doctor hadn’t just bothered me, this morning, he’d made me hot all over, and that it was the first time I’d reacted to anyone that way. Ever.