And then she remembered the last time she’d seen him. His expression had darkened with disappointment, his voice angry and hurt as he passed his small-town judgment on her pending marriage to a man he didn’t think was good enough for her.
“You’re marrying him for all the wrong reasons,” he’d said. “He won’t make you happy.”
“And you’re an expert on me and what makes me happy,” she’d retorted.
“I’ve gotten pretty good at watching you throw the important things in your life away in your pursuit of success, yes.” His hands had shook as he cupped her cheek. “It makes me sad to see you putting so much faith in this guy and his money. His promises that this better life of his in Atlanta will make you happy. It makes me… It makes me want to show you what you could have if you came back to live in Sweetbrook.”
And before she’d known it, the anger in the eyes of the man she’d secretly had a crush on for years had heated into something new, something that felt as forbidden and thrilling as the kiss that had followed—
“I’m the principal of the elementary school in Sweetbrook,” Josh said in the here and now.
“I… I know who you are, Josh.” She checked her watch. “It’s ten o’clock at night. And I’m in an important meeting.”
“I see.” The friendly note drained from his voice. “Your mother mentioned you kept late hours at the office, but I thought by now you might have time to talk.”
“I’m trying to close a deal with an important client.” Amy’s cheeks singed at the censure she couldn’t believe she was hearing in his voice.
“What I’ve called to discuss about Becky is equally important, I assure you,” he reasoned, “or I wouldn’t have bothered you.”
As if taking time for her daughter was too much of a bother. Amy’s spine stiffened.
Maybe he had seen Richard for the snake he turned out to be long before she’d wised up. Maybe Josh had been right all along, that her big plans for her life in Atlanta wouldn’t make her happy. But he didn’t know her anymore. He couldn’t begin to comprehend the kind of trouble she was digging herself and Becky out of. Or how much she despised herself for each minute she couldn’t be with her child.
“How did you get this number?” she asked, biting back her favorite childhood label for him when he was being a pain—butthead.
“Gwen gave it to the school when she registered Becky. I have it here in your daughter’s file.” He was full-on Principal White now, his voice as formal and as superficially polite as hers. “Just at a glance, I’d say the behavior problems and incidents Becky’s racked up in just the month she’s been with us constitute an emergency by anyone’s standards. In case you weren’t aware of what’s been going on down here, I wanted to bring you up to speed.”
“I’m aware of everything that’s happening with my daughter. I talk with her every night,” Amy snapped. “I’m very interested in her life, and I stay as involved as I can be.”
“I wasn’t judging you, Amy.” He sounded genuinely hurt.
“Sure you were.”
She’d been down this road before. For months now, as a matter of fact, ever since the mothers of Becky’s friends first learned about Amy’s increased hours at Enterprise after the divorce. The frenzy of unsolicited concern and advice that had ensued—after dance practice, at the car-pool stop to and from school, after birthday parties and sleepovers—had made Amy’s decision to remove Becky from her exclusive private school even easier. They couldn’t afford the tuition any longer, and Amy didn’t need the daily reminder of how badly she was failing as a mother, no matter how hard she tried.
“I called to discuss Becky’s issues at school,” Josh offered, his tone edging toward reasonable. “Not to comment on your priorities as a mother, or your relationship with your daughter. I’d like to help.”
“Look.” Amy unclenched her jaw. Chided herself for overreacting. The man was just doing his job. She glanced at her watch again. “I’ve already spoken with my mother, and I’m just as concerned as you that Becky’s having difficulty in school—”
“Then you’re planning to be here Friday?”
“What?”
“For the SST meeting.”
The door to Mr. Hutchinson’s office opened. The senior partner stepped partially into the hall.
“Ms. Loar, I need you in here.”
She raised a finger to signal for another minute. Turning her back as the door closed less than gently behind her, she gritted her teeth against the screaming tantrum that would be a really bad idea.
“Josh, I’d be happy to stop by the school as soon as I wrap up my project here. I don’t know what this SST meeting is, but Friday’s out of the question, I’m afraid.”
“And I’m afraid we can’t put this off.” His statement resonated with the same determination she’d once admired. Only there was an unforgiving edge to Josh’s controlled manner now. A harshness at complete odds with the easygoing charm that had tempered his personality when they were kids.
“We’re just going to have to put it off.” Amy took a calming breath. “I appreciate your call, and I’ll make an appointment with the school secretary for a few weeks from now—”
“You don’t understand. We’re having the meeting Friday, with or without you. If you can’t make the time to be here, we’ll do what we think is best for Becky in your absence.”
His disapproving tone snuffed out Amy’s last attempt to keep the conversation polite, just as it had that night over ten years ago when he’d decided he knew what was best for her life.
Privilege and money had smoothed Josh’s every step from childhood. After college, he’d returned to Sweetbrook to take his rightful place in his family’s legacy of service and philanthropy to the community. He was principal of Dr. David C. White Elementary School, for heaven’s sake. She’d heard his marriage had fallen apart a year or so ago, but beyond that it seemed his life had worked out exactly according to his master plan. How could he possibly understand what it was like to fight and struggle, and all the while know you’re stuck in a no-win battle you might never escape from?
“I do appreciate your courtesy.” She nearly choked on the words. “But how exactly do you anticipate having a parent-teacher conference without the parent present?”
Butthead!
“The Student Support Team meeting is for Becky’s benefit, not yours,” he explained. “It’s a little more formal than you sitting down for a chat with her teacher. Your daughter’s facing some tough challenges, and she’s going to need all the help she can get. I’ll be there Friday, along with her teacher, Mrs. Cole. So will our staff counselor. Together, we’ll come up with a set of strategies that we hope will help school become a more successful experience for Becky.”
“What challenges? What strategies? Becky’s upset because of the hours I’ve had to keep the last few months. Because she blames me for how my marriage ended.” Amy clasped the pendant dangling around her neck. “My daughter doesn’t want to be in Sweetbrook, so she’s acting out a little more than usual at school. I’ll be there in a few weeks, then she’ll settle back in here with me. Don’t you think you’re overreacting with this SST thing? Becky’s going to be fine.”
“She may not be, Amy. Not without some help.” Josh’s concern radiated across the crackling cell connection. Gone was the all-business principal who couldn’t keep his intrusive opinions to himself. In his place was the friend whose shoulder Amy had cried on the summer her puppy had died in her arms after being struck by a car. Gwen had been at work, Amy hadn’t had anyone