to have lunch with, but no, I have not been individually introduced to your daughter. And, before you ask, no, I don’t have any children of my own. What I do have are years of classroom experience working with kids and a Master of Education. I may be younger than Principal Ridenour, but I assure you I’m qualified for my job.”
Mark shoved a hand through his hair, aware that he’d botched this meeting so far. “Of course you are, Ms. Morgan. I apologize. I got defensive because this is personal.”
Her posture eased slightly, but her expression didn’t soften. “I understand why you would feel that way, but this email was sent to everyone on the PTA mailing list. I haven’t spoken to Vicki yet, or her aunt, for that matter. I wanted to make sure that you, as the responsible parent, were fully aware of the situation first. But I am going to send out a concise email addressing the situation.”
In other words, Mark translated, his “personal” matter had become quite public.
“Before we call her into the office, though,” the principal added, “I wanted to talk with you for a few minutes. Are you aware that there’s a community support group for single parents that meets in the school cafeteria the first and third Wednesday nights of every month?”
“I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but I’m not going to give up another night with my daughter. Tuesday evenings she has ballet, and Friday, inventory at the store sometimes goes pretty late, so—”
“That would be the store mentioned in Vicki’s letter, when she says you’re away a lot? Mr. Hathaway, as someone who’s never been married, I can’t know precisely what it’s like to lose a spouse. But I realize it must be very difficult for you and Vicki. Maybe this wasn’t so much a plea for a new mom as a cry for more attention.”
“Vicki knows how much I love her.” Doesn’t she? “I tell her every single day. She’s the most… She’s my world, Ms. Morgan.” He recalled a promise he’d made to Jess, when they’d known how little time she’d had left. He’d told her that he’d love Vicki enough for both of them. Was he failing?
“I don’t doubt that.” Radiating sympathy, the principal laid her hand atop his on the table. Then she blinked, as if she were as surprised by the physical contact as he was. She withdrew immediately. “Maybe it would help if you supplemented your words with actions, with your time. The first-grade classes have already been on a couple of field trips this year. Were you able to chaperone any of those?”
“I have a store to run.” This woman had no idea what kind of pressure he was under to keep the place afloat and to keep Vicki here in Braeden. Was he really being condemned as a bad father because he hadn’t accompanied a bunch of six-year-olds to a petting zoo?
“You also have a daughter who needs you,” she said. “There are numerous studies that show how much a child benefits, both emotionally and academically, when a parent is able to volunteer at the school.”
Those studies weren’t going to pay his mortgage. But he tamped down the sarcasm. If his showing up for the occasional field trip would help Vicki, he’d find a way to do it. But it seemed that Ms. Morgan had even bigger ideas.
She handed him a blue folder. “That contains information on different ways you can get involved in the classroom. We’re always in need of parental support for our activities. Our fall book fair, normally a week long, only ran three days this year because we couldn’t staff all of the available shifts. And the Campside Girls who’ve traditionally had their weekly troop meetings here had to disband this year because they couldn’t find a leader.”
“A shame,” he muttered. “I would have been happy to give the troop discounts on gear for—”
“Mr. Hathaway! We’re discussing your daughter’s well-being, not your store. Study the list I’ve given you. There must be something on it that you’re suited to, a way you can chip in and show Vicki that she’s just as important to you as your job.”
Maybe the two could dovetail—his principal-mandated community service and his promise to Bennett to boost business.
“Actually, it’s a funny coincidence,” Mark said, flashing her a smile. He tried for charm but it was difficult to gauge whether or not he succeeded. “I wanted to talk to you about getting involved with Woodside this spring.”
“Really?” Her tone was suspicious.
“Honest. I know Woodside’s hosting that Fitness Fair and as you may know, at Up A Creek, we—”
“That’s the name of your store?”
“It’s the store I manage, yes. I’m not the owner.” And if he didn’t find a way to boost profits enough to appease the owner, then—
“Mr. Hathaway, I believe you are missing the point.” Her tone was wooden. “Your daughter needs you.”
This judgmental blonde didn’t think he was aware of that fact every second of every day? Vicki needed him to braid hair, which he couldn’t do, and provide dinner, which he usually messed up; the matter-of-fact criticism in her email that he was a not so good cook stung more than he would have predicted. But she also needed him to provide food and shelter and the clothes she seemed to outgrow every other week.
The responsibility had been weighing heavily on his shoulders lately. Now, with Shay Morgan poking at his flaws, he wanted to yell that he was doing the best he could. Ironically, it was the very fear that his words might be true that kept him silent.
What if this was the best he had to offer and it wasn’t enough to truly keep his daughter healthy and happy?
He tightened his grip on the folder, sucking in his breath at the resulting paper cut. “I’ll read everything in here and find a way to participate.”
“Wonderful! I look forward to working with you,” Shay lied unconvincingly. She sounded as if she’d rather be buried beneath a rock slide than deal with him again.
He could relate. That was pretty much how he felt about her right now, too.
AS SHE WAITED ALONE IN her office for Mark Hathaway’s return, Shay took a moment to compose herself. They’d asked Roberta to call for Vicki via the classroom intercom system, but Mrs. Frost had answered that the class was outside with the gym teacher and that it would take a few minutes to find Vicki and escort her to the office. Meanwhile, Mark had stepped outside to phone his store—the cell reception was lousy in the school—so he could let his employee know it would be at least another half an hour before he returned to work. He’d excused himself with a note of challenge in his voice, as if expecting Shay to come down on him for being a diligent boss.
She sighed, staring sightlessly at her computer monitor. Well, you’ve handled this like a real pro.
No doubt startled by his daughter’s attempts to engineer his love life, Mark Hathaway had been prickly throughout their meeting. It hadn’t helped that instead of defusing the situation, Shay herself had felt defensive, unbalanced. Her original intention had been to phone the man and discuss Vicki’s email, but Roberta had acted preemptively, summoning him to the office on Shay’s behalf. Would their conversation have gone more smoothly if it hadn’t been face-to-face?
Get a grip. He’s hardly the first good-looking man you’ve ever met.
True, but she wasn’t reacting just to Mark’s tall, athletic build or the handsome face framed by inky-black hair. She was responding more to his reaction to her. The way his gaze had traveled over her in the front office… If she’d been out somewhere socially, instead of at a place of work where she was trying to establish her authority, the appreciation in those gray eyes would have made her shiver. And she hadn’t missed his staring at her legs once they sat down together.
But despite the temptation to be flattered as a woman, she was annoyed as a professional. You’re not what I expected, he’d said, comparing her to Principal Ridenour. Was Mark Hathaway one of those people who would underestimate her as a pretty face, too young and not up to the serious responsibilities