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)
The tell-tale sign of flip flops flopping echoes in my room. Jean sits across from my desk and audibly sighs. Again, I lift my head and try to act like an adult. I’m sure my face says otherwise.
“Going to the board with a new proposal wasn’t going to fly. You know this. People love Wade. You . . .” She stops herself from saying “You love Wade.”
She would’ve been right.
I do . . . did. But that was a long, long time ago, in a whole different part of my life. He ruined that.
“I what?” I ask, challenging her.
“You know better than to ask people who are afraid of change to make a change. We are simple people here in Magnolia Grove. We like what works for us and we don’t like change. Wade is a local boy, born and bred. You knew it was a long shot proposing they go with some crew out of Mobile.”
“They’d save taxpayers money.”
Jean cocks her head to the side, ever so slightly. “But where would they be when we have a hurricane? Or the sprinkler system is broken? Or we have a ceremony outside, and the lawn needs an extra trim?”
She has a point, but I still don’t like it.
“Why did he enroll his daughter?”
Jean lifts her right shoulder. “He’s not saying anything to anyone or if he has, they’re not saying.”
“Her mother . . .” I pause, sigh, and open the folder again. Seeing Marigold’s name is like a punch to the gut. “Lives in Jacksonville with her husband.”
“Yep,” Jean says. “And now her daughter will go to school here.”
“Can you—”
Jean shakes her head. “Not this time. If you need to know, ask him.”
“Well, you know that isn’t going to happen.” I slam the folder closed, although it doesn’t have the effect I was hoping for. It’s cardstock at best and flutters shut. I have half the mind to chuck the folder and its contents into the trash and act like I never saw it.
“Anyway,” I say as I put the folder on top of the pile. “When it comes to landscaping issues, you’ll be the point of contact. Please make sure Mr. Jenkins knows. We’ll do the same for Marigold. I’ll speak to her teacher and express our policy regarding the Jenkinses.”
“Your policy,” Jean says. “Not mine, and it’s a stupid policy. Just talk to him.”
My head rises sharply and while I love and appreciate Jean, this policy is in place so I can do my job effectively and efficiently. When I took it, I did so knowing I would never have to deal with the likes of Wade Jenkins, and yet the universe seems hell-bent on throwing him in my face.
“The policy is in place. If the school board wants to keep him on as the landscaper, all communication goes through you. I don’t care if the lawn grows to six feet high or the sprinkler system craps out in the middle of spring. I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jean says as she gets up from the seat. I turn away from her and stare out the window. Across the way, the high school football team practices. This is the first time in a very long time Magnolia High has had a new football coach. Mattie Lincoln took over when Coach Turner retired. I was sorry to miss his retirement party. I think I was somewhere in Paris, once again contemplating my life over a baguette and brie.
I give Jean a moment to get back to her desk before I turn back to the folders. I go through each one, make extra notes for Jean and then carry the pile out to her. Before leaving my office, I shut my computer off and grab my purse. I don’t care if I didn’t put in eight hours. I need some relaxation, meditation, or libations if I plan to get through this school year. Wade Jenkins broke my heart, and I have never forgiven him.
“I put notes in each file,” I tell Jean as I set them on her desk. “Please make sure the parents know about Meet Your Teacher Night and send the enrollment packet to them.”
“I’m on it,” she says sweetly. Jean doesn’t have a mean bone in her body until you cross her or someone she loves. “Are you checking out early?”
“I need . . . a moment to decompress,” I tell her. “This is all too much.” It’s one thing to see Wade around town or watching him as he rides by my window on his mower. It’s a whole other avenue when I have to see him inside my workplace. The school is my sanctuary. It’s the one place he isn’t and never needs to be . . . until now.
Now, when I’m at the podium for an awards assembly and parents are there, he’s going to be there. Open house, back to school night, school carnival. I won’t be able to escape him. And seeing his daughter every day will be like a slap in the face. A stark reminder of how he destroyed our relationship and my faith in men.