a research project for Miss Burrows.” The taller of the two answered while her friend spared a quick glance at Jason, then lowered her head, giggling. “We have a pass.”
“Well, pick it up a little. I’ve seen injured turtles move faster than that.”
The girls both nodded, skirting around the principal to make their way down the corridor. Whispers and laughter trailed after them. Though he hoped it was his imagination, Jason thought he caught his name.
Principal Schonrock assessed him, arms akimbo. “About that spring formal, McDeere, I don’t suppose you’ll be bringing a date?”
“Ma’am?” He was unprepared for the random question, though he assumed she wasn’t asking him out. Mr. Schonrock wouldn’t approve.
“A date, McDeere. A female companion to whom you bring cups of ginger ale punch between rounds on the dance floor.”
What was it with the people in this town and their preoccupation with his social life? “I plan to go stag. Stay focused on the kids, make sure no one smuggles a flask to spike the punch.”
“I’ve got punch duty, no worries there.” She sighed. “You’re one of the best literature teachers we’ve ever had at this school, but you do pose the occasional problem.”
“Such as?” Jason was genuinely baffled, but open to constructive criticism if it would improve his effectiveness in the classroom.
For perhaps the first time since he’d known her, Betty seemed hesitant, glancing down the hall, checking in both directions before she replied. “When you were helping Coach Hanover with the cross-country team last semester, did you happen to notice how many divorced moms showed up at meets?”
“They were there to support their kids.”
“Some of them didn’t have kids on the team. Some of them didn’t even have kids at this school! Then there’s my own faculty. Shannon Cross has been teaching for four years and never once wore a low-cut sweater to a PTA meeting before you joined the staff. The way she and Leigh Norris bat their eyelashes at you over the coffeepot makes them seem more like students than educators. And it’s affected their professional relationship. Last Friday, I thought there might actually be a catfight.”
“Er…” While he wasn’t comfortable with the increasingly flirtatious mannerisms of his two female colleagues, he was even less comfortable discussing them with the principal. “Maybe it would be better to have this chat with Ms. Cross and Ms. Norris.”
“I have. But it’s not just them. You stand out conspicuously. We have a small staff here and very few male teachers. Aside from you, no male teachers who are single.”
“That has no bearing on my job performance.”
“Of course not, but you saw how Seneca and Jess reacted to you.”
“Teenage girls giggle all the time,” he said stiffly.
“Last week, Mrs. Feeney walked into the D Hall restroom and overheard three girls making dares on ways to get your attention. I dealt with it, but the fact of the matter remains that some parents…”
Surely no one had ever accused him of flirting with a student? If he didn’t resent the implication so much, he might have laughed at the irony. He hadn’t wanted to be single! When he’d made the vow to stay with Isobel until death parted them, he’d meant it. He just hadn’t anticipated her bailing on motherhood and, consequently, their marriage.
He tightened his grip on his lunch, probably crushing the sandwich inside the sack. “Principal Schonrock, I don’t like the tone of this conversation. If you’ll excuse me, I only have a few minutes left before the bell rings.”
“Jason, I’m sorry I’ve upset you. I considered not telling you about the restroom incident at all, but thought it better if you knew.”
“So that I can bring a date to the Spring Fling?” There were limits on what he was willing to do in his personal life to appease those in charge of his professional life.
“It might not hurt if people thought of you as less available.”
He bared his teeth in a humorless smile, spelling out what he’d tried to make Coach Hanover understand the other night. “I am the sole caretaker of a two-year-old. With my grandmother gone, I’ve tailored my schedule around Emily’s sitter and have been struggling in my nonexistent spare time, between potty training and grading papers, to renovate the run-down house Gran left us. Trust me, I’m about as unavailable as you can get.”
“MMM.” LOLA ANN CLOSED HER eyes briefly, tilting her face up toward the sun, clearly a woman who’d never freckled. “Days as lovely as today, I wonder why anyone ever drives.”
“Hey!” Ronnie laughed, scooting over on the sidewalk to avoid the dropped remains of an ice cream cone. “That’s my job security you’re threatening. How would you like it if I started questioning why people still read books?”
“Not enough of them do,” Lola Ann said vehemently.
“You have a point.” Certainly the men in Ronnie’s family never read anything unless it was related to sports or automobiles. She made a mental note to include a children’s book along with whatever gift she gave her niece for her next birthday.
A memory surfaced, the Christmas her freshman year when her dad and brothers had bought her a stack of cookbooks. The only kitchen tools I’ll need after the move are a microwave, a can opener and a refrigerator magnet with the phone number of the town’s pizza-delivery place.
It wasn’t that she’d ended up stuck with traditionally female chores because her brothers were meat-headed chauvinists. Juggling schoolwork and, in the case of Danny and Will, part-time jobs, they’d all helped around the house in different ways while Wayne ran the garage. Struggling to fulfill a promise that first year after Mom’s death, Ronnie had inadvertently set the pattern from which she still hadn’t broken free.
Take care of them. Looking back, Ronnie knew what her mother had meant—after all, without feminine interference, Will and Devin might never have thought to put on clean clothes. Yet, Ronnie felt as if she’d spent more time trying ineptly to fill someone else’s shoes than finding her own footsteps.
The library was on the corner, and Ronnie automatically slowed, assuming this was where she and Lola Ann would part company after their lunch.
“I, um, thought I’d walk with you,” Lola Ann said. “You know, work off some of that barbecue. Plus, I have to go to the post office. The garage is on the way.”
Ronnie raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment on her friend’s indirect route. “Suit yourself, I’m happy for the company.”
While Joyous was by and large a rural community where cars were a necessity, the few blocks of “downtown,” with its old-fashioned storefronts and limited parking, really did make for a nice stroll. They ran into numerous acquaintances, including Charity Sumner as she exited Claudette’s Beauty Salon.
“Charity!” Navigating the stroller the blonde pushed, Ronnie gave her a one-armed hug. “Long time, no see.”
Charity was Treble’s younger sister and, next to Lola Ann, Ronnie’s closest friend.
“We’ve missed you at Guthrie’s, but understand what’s kept you so busy.” Lola Ann leaned down to admire eight-month-old Brooke. “A cutie like this one sure makes the biological clock tick louder.”
Ronnie shifted her weight, listening as the other two women discussed baby milestones. Truthfully, Ronnie’s biological clock wasn’t running all that fast. She doubted it was even plugged in.
“I should be going.” Charity glanced at her watch reluctantly. “But we have to get together soon! Now that she’s sleeping through the night and I don’t constantly feel like a zombie, it’s time to reclaim my life.”
After they’d said goodbye,