stomach roiled as though it would heave out her lunch—despite the fact she hadn’t eaten any.
She could blame most of her discomfort on Luke Hayes.
She’d grown up with a politician father. She’d seen him, her younger brother, Jackson, and even her mother wheedle donations more times than she could count. Goodness, she had wheedled donations before. She knew the best way to go about it. Smile. Look pretty. And agree with everything the potential donor said.
Not three hours earlier, the man who could save Hayes Academy had stood in front of her. She hadn’t smiled. She’d probably looked a fright with chalk on her skirt and her hair askew. And she’d disagreed with everything he had said.
Goodbye, Hayes Academy.
She sighed. Was she was being too hard on herself? Luke Hayes had interrupted her quiz and then pulled her brightest pupil out of school. Certainly he didn’t expect her to smile and say, “Yes, that’s fine. Ruin your sister’s future. I don’t care in the least.”
She opened her bottom desk drawer and stuffed into her satchel the letters she needed to work on the ledgers. He had no right to rip Samantha out of class then spout off about his sister not being her concern. Of course she was concerned—she knew exactly what the girl was going through. The battle was all too familiar.
What do you mean, you’re going to college?
A pretty girl like you should find a husband.
Just because one man jilted you, doesn’t mean the next will.
A college degree? What’s wrong with the schooling you already have? Why do you need more?
The sharp comments twined through her memory. Why should her desire to teach mathematics matter, when she could get married and have children? People had been asking her that for six years, and now Mr. Hayes had said the same about Samantha.
Maybe if she had explained the possibilities that awaited Samantha after she had a high school diploma and college degree, he’d let his sister continue her education.
Maybe.
But how many people understood her own pursuit of mathematics? Mr. Hayes would likely squelch his sister’s dreams just as so many people had tried to kill hers.
Elizabeth straightened and slipped her satchel over her shoulder. She wasn’t doing herself any favors by stewing over Luke Hayes, and she needed to stop by the kitchen and inventory the recent food delivery before she even went home.
She closed and locked her classroom door, then walked down the hallway toward the large double doors at the opposite end of the building. The tinkle of girlish giggles from outside floated through the main entrance to the school, and the clear autumn sun filtered through the windows beside the doorway.
If only she didn’t have the cook to meet with and ledgers to refigure, she could enjoy that picnic with her students. But some things weren’t meant to be. She pushed through the doors leading into the dining hall, then weaved her way through the maze of tables and chairs toward the kitchen at the back.
Dottie McGivern, the school’s cook, stood at the counter just inside the kitchen.
“There you are. Been wondering whether you were going to show up.” Dottie’s plump hands dove into a bowl of dough and began to knead. “We need more flour, apples and sugar.”
Elizabeth sighed. Of course they did. It only made sense. She already had the ladies’ society, Samantha’s brother and the school’s financial woes to deal with. Why not add trouble with the food order, as well?
“I’m assuming you didn’t get the amounts you ordered?” Again?
Dottie pointed to the half-empty shelves lining the wall of the kitchen. “Now look here, Miss Wells. I’ve been cooking for a long time, and I know how much money it costs to feed a slew of girls. Or at least how much money it should cost. So when I say I need a hundred and fifty dollars each month to pay for food, I mean a hundred and fifty dollars, not the fifty dollars’ worth of foodstuffs that showed up this morning. That look like a hundred and fifty dollars’ worth of food to you?”
“No, it doesn’t.” This could not be happening again, not with the school in such dire financial straits. It seemed every time Dottie had a load of food delivered, something had gotten mixed up and only a portion of the needed food was delivered. “I don’t understand. Jackson says he authorizes the food money to be released every month. You should have plenty of supplies, not be running out.”
Dottie wagged a flour-covered finger at her chest. “Talk to your brother, then. Maybe you got your messages mixed up, but the delivery that arrived today wasn’t no hundred and fifty dollars’ worth of food.”
Yes, she would talk to Jackson. Indeed, she hoped something had become mixed up. Otherwise, the academy was being cheated somehow. And not just with groceries. This was the fourth time such a thing had happened since the school year started. Jackson said enough money for materials and bills had been released, yet the gas company claimed they never received payment, the store they ordered teachers’ supplies from was missing money as well, and Dottie said only a third of her food arrived.
“Miss Wells, there you are. I feared you had gone already.” Miss Bowen’s head poked through the swinging kitchen door, her perfect coiffure and straight suit grossly incongruous against the counters piled with potatoes, messy casserole dishes and frazzled works in the kitchen. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I simply must speak with you. In private, that is.”
Miss Bowen sent Dottie a brief smile and then disappeared back through the door.
Elizabeth squeezed Dottie’s arm. “I’ll be back tomorrow to figure this out.”
The fiery-haired woman nodded. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth headed out of the kitchen and toward the far corner of the dining hall where Mrs. Bowen stood. The lines of her gray dress looked so stiff that the woman couldn’t possibly be comfortable walking. Or standing. Or sitting. Or doing anything at all. But a smile softened the creases of her face.
“I need to speak with you about the school board meeting last evening.”
Of course. Why not discuss the school board meeting? It was just one more thing to add to her list of disastrous events. At this rate, she’d better not bother to go home later. She’d likely find her house burned to ashes or swallowed by an earthquake. “What about it?”
“Well, naturally the board is concerned about the bad publicity Hayes Academy received earlier this week.”
Which the school board undoubtedly blamed on her, since she’d written that editorial. “Do they plan to file a complaint with the Morning Times? To the best of my knowledge, no one, not a school board member, nor you, nor I, nor anyone associated with Hayes Academy, was asked to defend it in an official article. I suppose it will be left to me to write something in response.”
Miss Bowen blanched. “No. I’m afraid that won’t be necessary. In fact, I do believe several of the board members requested you not write anything more for the paper.”
“Does someone else plan to write an editorial, then?” Surely the school board didn’t intend to let Mr. Higsley’s article go unanswered. “Or perhaps the board could invite the reporter to the school? The man might well retract some of his comments, were he to see firsthand how beneficial—”
“The school board is considering closing Hayes Academy. Immediately.” The words fell from Miss Bowen’s mouth in a jumbled rush.
Elizabeth’s heart stuttered, then stopped. She opened her mouth, hoping something intelligible would come out, but all she could do was stare at Miss Bowen’s pale, pinched face. She should have known. She’d suspected the school board would lean in this direction, of course. But so quickly? Before she even had a chance to refigure the ledgers or write another article or find more donors?
“I see. Did...did my father...” She pressed her eyes