Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“It’d be a great teaching lesson,” I tell her. “Maybe it’s a class the high school should offer.”
“Gardening skills?”
I nod and spread two fingers apart to peer at Jean. She’s contemplating my idea. I drop my hands and point at her. “See, you like my idea. Having gardening skills is something everyone can use and benefit from.”
Jean sighs. “I’ll admit, it’s a good idea. However, . . .”
She drags the word out until I meet her gaze.
“All you had to do was call him.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Lemon,” she says my name softly and leans toward me, closing the distance my desk has put between us. “It’s time to put on your big girl panties on and act like an adult.”
Thankfully, my chair has casters, and I can push away from her penetrating gaze. “You don’t get it,” I say as I stand and stare out the window. “He hurt me and it’s not something I’ve been able to let go of.”
“Then maybe you need to seek professional help because Wade isn’t going anywhere.”
At the mention of his name, my cold dead heart thumps. My hand fists and rests over the middle of my chest. “Look, I know I need to grow a set and act like everything is okay, but the truth is, seeing his daughter every day just exacerbates the situation. Maybe I should move.”
“I’ll start looking for openings.”
I turn sharply at her words and my mouth drops open. Jean shrugs.
“You’re being childish,” she says. “Everything that happened between you was eight years ago. Let it go. Move on. Hell, find someone new.”
“Not in Magnolia Grove.”
Jean sighs. “Not unless someone single moves to town, which let’s be honest, isn’t likely to happen anytime soon. And yes, I fully admit, Wade Jenkins is the hottest, most eligible bachelor in town. Who, correct me if I’m wrong, is seemingly single.”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Liar,” she says, shaking her head. “You sit on a throne of lies.”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes or reference Will Ferrell in Elf.
“You do know, and you do everything to avoid the elephant in the room.”
“I love elephants,” I tell her. “They’re my spirit animal.”
“And they’re about the stomp your career if you don’t wise up.” Jean turns and heads toward the door. “You’re welcome, by the way,” she says as she walks out.
“Thank you,” I yell to the open door.
“And you’re paying him overtime.”
“I—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she yells back, effectively ending our conversion and leaving me no choice but to work. I sit down and boot my computer up. My emails ding, one after another, while I look at my calendar. In two hours, I will be in the cafeteria, watching all the littles carry on their conversations. Some are so animated, talking wildly with their hands, that I can’t help but focus on them. And then there are always the shy ones, the kids who sit by themselves and watch as their classmates thrive with a group. The shy kids eat slowly, often picking at their food to prolong their time at the table before recess starts. Those are the children that I promised to protect, and one of those kids is Marigold Jenkins.
I sigh heavily at my realization. I’m being a shitty human and principal by holding this little girl accountable for what her parents did. It’s not her fault. I see her in the lunchroom, sitting by herself, nibbling at her sandwich. From time to time, she’ll look around at her classmates, with longing on her face. I can’t imagine what she’s going through or how she ended up in my school. But she’s here and one of my charges, and I’ve done nothing to help her.
Tears well in the corner of my eyes. I dab them and pinch the bridge of my nose. When I look at Marigold, I see her mother—a woman I’ve never met and who has never come to town. At least, not when I’m around. Is that Wade’s doing? Is he trying to protect me?
Doubt and regret fill me. I’m failing in the principal department and need to rectify this immediately.
Once my emails stop dinging, I begin the scroll from bottom to top, ignoring the ‘reply all’ ones that have nothing to do with me, whatsoever. Pressing Jean’s button on my phone, I wait for her to answer.
“Hey,” I say when the channel opens. “Can you draft a letter regarding the use of reply all. I have a million and one emails that have nothing to do with me.”
Jean sighs. “I sent it last week. I’ll remind everyone.”
“Kindly,” I tell her.
“No, now it’s time for the slapstick to come out.”
I shake my head and tell myself I don’t want to know what an email slapstick is. “Thank you.” I disconnect the call and go back to reading each message, pausing when I see Marigold’s name in the subject line.