Santa's Sweetheart (The Christmas Tree Ranch #4)(4)

“Oh—” She paused in the doorway. “My son was going to Cottonwood Springs today, so I asked him to pick us up a Christmas tree and charge it to the department. He’ll drop it by here on his way home.”

Christmas again. Sam sighed. “Fine, Helen. As long as you’re offering to decorate it.”

“Don’t I always?” She closed the door behind her.

Sam rose, walked to the window, and stood gazing out at the town park. The brown grass and leafless trees did nothing to improve his bleak mood. Neither did the city workers stringing colored lights across Main Street. Maybe he should have given Helen some cash and had her son pick up a second tree for him. But he knew that Maggie would want to choose the tree herself. She would want him to help her decorate it while singing along to the Christmas music on the radio. Later there’d be shopping and wrapping and the delight of Christmas morning.

Bethany had loved Christmas.

Sam felt numb to it all.

*

Aside from being the tallest kid in the class, Maggie liked school. While the reading groups were meeting, her teacher, Miss Chapman, usually let Maggie go to the library and get her own book to read. Maggie liked that a lot. She was just okay at math, maybe because, compared to stories, numbers seemed boring. But science, art, and music were all fine. She was good at writing, too. But the one subject Maggie hated was physical education.

Maybe it was because her coordination hadn’t caught up with last summer’s growth spurt. Whatever the reason, she was no good at anything that involved catching, throwing, hitting, jumping, or dodging. And she hated being no good. She hated being the last one chosen for a team. She hated being the first one hit in dodgeball because her height made her an easy target. And she hated striking out every time she came to bat in softball. But Maggie kept trying. She kept trying because it was expected of her.

This morning, after the Pledge of Allegiance, and the announcements, Miss Chapman, whose first name was Grace, called the roll. She was young, maybe twenty-eight or thirty, with the kind of looks that could be attractive with some help. Her light brown hair was straight and pulled back with a scrunchie into a low ponytail. She dressed like a college girl in stretch pants and a baggy gray sweater, and she wore round, wire-framed glasses with almost no makeup. The glasses made her look like a nerd, which she probably was. But the brown eyes behind those glasses sparkled when she was pleased, and her smile deepened the dimples in her cheeks.

She was strict but not mean, and the students, including Maggie, liked her fine.

The first subject of the day was math. Miss Chapman liked to schedule it early, while the students were sharp. Today they were learning to subtract a single-digit number from a two-digit number. Miss Chapman demonstrated the idea and had some students work problems on the board. After that, they opened their workbooks while Miss Chapman moved up and down the rows, pausing to help anyone who appeared to be struggling.

Maggie sat in the back row. That was fine, because she got to sit next to her best friend, Brenda. Miss Chapman let friends sit together as long as they paid attention and didn’t talk when they were supposed to be listening. Breaking that rule meant separation.

Maggie had almost finished her workbook pages when Brenda nudged her. “I can’t figure this out,” she whispered. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Here, let me help you. Look at this one, twenty-six minus four.” Maggie leaned close and showed her friend how to subtract the four from the six on the right, and move down the twenty number on the left. “All right, can you do it now?” she asked.

“Uh-huh. I think so,” Brenda said. “Thanks.”

Maggie glanced up just then to see Miss Chapman right there next to her desk, watching. Maggie swallowed nervously. Had she done something wrong? Was she in trouble?

But Miss Chapman just smiled and nodded. “Good job, girls,” she said.

Maggie watched her walk away. Some teachers were mean. But Miss Chapman made you want to do your best. Her smile, which lit her face, was like a little reward. She was nice, but not sweet; pretty but not glamorous; and young, but not too young for Maggie’s father. And she was a Miss, not a Mrs. That was important.

Maggie studied her teacher as she moved to the front of the class and stood waiting for the students to close their workbooks.

Perfect! she thought.

Now all she had to do was get Sam and Miss Chapman together.





Chapter Two


An hour later it was time for recess. Maggie and Brenda put on their coats and went outside. Usually they played games with other kids, but today Maggie wanted to talk; so they just walked around the schoolyard.

Maggie had been wondering how much to tell her friend about her plan. Not everything, she decided. At least not yet. But there were things she needed to know before she went ahead. “I need to ask you something,” she said to Brenda. “You said once that your brother delivers the newspaper to Miss Chapman. Do you know where she lives?”

“Uh-huh.” Brenda tucked a lock of windblown hair behind her ear. The youngest of six children, she was stocky, blond, and blue-eyed like the rest of her large family. “You know that old red brick house next to the hairdresser’s? The one with the big dead tree out front?”

“Where old man Warren used to live?”

“Right. Miss Chapman lives there with a couple of roommates. One of them works for the school district. I’m not sure what the other one does. They always give my brother a nice tip when he comes to collect.”