Santa's Sweetheart (The Christmas Tree Ranch #4)(18)
Grace was sitting right across from him.
*
Grace’s long day was getting longer by the minute. At that morning’s faculty meeting, the principal, Ed Judkins, had informed her—without any prior notice—that she was to represent the school on the town committee to help plan the annual Christmas party. “I’m new in town,” she’d argued uselessly. “Nobody knows me, and I don’t know anything about the Christmas party they’ll be planning. Wouldn’t someone else be—”
“Miss Chapman, it’s not rocket science.” Ed Judkins, a stocky man of about forty, with buzz-cut sandy hair, was a master of sarcasm, especially where new teachers were concerned. “It’s not as if you’re being asked to find a cure for cancer or negotiate world peace. Most of the planning is already done. Just show up tonight, fill the chair, and vote on suggestions. You know, like raise your hand yay or nay. You don’t even have to open your pretty mouth. Understand?” He’d chuckled, probably thinking he’d made a clever joke.
“I do.” And thank you for this wonderful opportunity, you arrogant, chauvinistic jerk.
There’d been sympathetic glances from some of the teachers, most of whom had been jabbed by the principal’s barbs in the past. They stayed because they loved the students and valued their place in the community. And most of them nourished the hope that Judkins would move on to bigger things and leave the job open for someone with more than a grain of sensitivity.
The rest of the day hadn’t gone much better. Maggie, at least, had been a model of decorum. But for the rest of the class, the Christmas crazies, as Jess called them, had struck. For their art lesson, Grace had shown them how to fold and cut paper snowflakes. One girl had taken her blunt-tipped scissors and trimmed off her friend’s bangs. At recess, two boys had gotten into a fight, and during story time, one shy little girl had wet her panties and been teased to tears before Grace could scold the class into silence. She’d planned to move the Christmas tree into the room, but didn’t want to reward her students for their wild conduct. The tree, she’d told them, would have to stay outside the door until they’d earned the right to bring it in and decorate it.
By the end of the day, Grace was getting a headache. Only as she passed the office on her way out had she remembered that Sam had promised her a rental car. Hoping for something comfortable, at least, she’d picked up the keys and paperwork at the front desk where the deliveryman had left them and walked outside.
Her eyes had scanned the parking lot for an unfamiliar car that matched the brand on her key. When she’d spotted it, next to the space where her Honda had been, she’d groaned. Was this Sam’s idea of a joke? If so, it wasn’t funny.
The VW beetle was the color of lime Jell-O, and so small she could barely squeeze into it. The upholstery was damp and reeked of air freshener, as if the car had been hastily cleaned at the last minute. Beneath the chemical smell, her nose had detected the rank, unmistakable odor of cigarette smoke.
Holding her breath, she’d rolled down the windows and gulped in the wintery air. She would freeze all the way home, but she had to breathe.
Sam had mentioned something about the meeting tonight. If he was going to be there, she would make certain he knew what she thought of his car choice.
Tonight she’d arrived ahead of him and parked the wretched vehicle in his space, where he was bound to notice it. But now, sitting across the table and looking into his warm, gray eyes, she found herself unsure of what to say.
The meeting was about to start. People were scanning the agenda, sipping coffee, and helping themselves to the doughnuts in the open bakery box on the table. Sam reached back to hand Maggie a doughnut with icing and sprinkles, along with a napkin. Then he turned toward the table and gave Grace a smile.
“Hi,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Did the car work out all right for you?”
“You didn’t see it?”
“I didn’t realize you’d be here. I wasn’t looking.”
“How could you have missed it? I parked it in your space, just so you’d notice.”
“What?” His stunned expression froze. “Grace, I swear, that wasn’t—”
His words were cut short by a rap of the mayor’s gavel. The meeting had begun.
*
Maggie finished her doughnut, wiped her fingers on the napkin, and opened her book. She’d planned to start reading. But for the moment, she found herself paying more attention to the meeting than to her book.
She hadn’t expected that her teacher would be here, let alone that Miss Chapman would be sitting right across from her dad. Big Sam had explained to Maggie that the two of them wouldn’t be dating. But Maggie hadn’t given up hope. All she needed was a little bit of luck to move things along—and this could be her lucky night.
From where she sat, she couldn’t hear what they were saying. But at least they were looking at each other and talking. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it?
Maggie glanced around the table, recognizing Rulon Wilkins, the mayor, who was also the bank president. A small, balding man, he had a booming voice at odds with his size. His plump, blond wife, Alice, sat next to him, ready to take notes. Maggie knew everyone else at the meeting by sight. Big Sam and Miss Chapman rounded out the group.
Like all city meetings, this one followed strict parliamentary procedure. Sam had explained to Maggie how it was used and why, but the whole business of moves and seconds and points of order sounded silly to her. Why couldn’t people just talk?