I nod.
She leans back in her chair, her expression soft but unreadable. “Unfortunately, the decision for something like this isn’t completely in my hands, even if I do believe it’s a marvelous idea. I can give my stamp of approval, which is the first step.”
“Whose hands is it in?”
“Tabitha Windhouse’s.”
At the name, my heart spirals downward and hits my stomach with a loudoomph.
Tabitha Windhouse. The president of the PTA.
And the woman who, for some reason, doesn’t like me—although heaven knows why. I’ve never taught either of her kids.
“Why’s it in her hands and not yours? You’re the school principal.”
“The woman has clout with the school board you can’t even begin to imagine.” Principal Woodnut leans forward again as if to share a national secret. Her next words come out in a hushed whisper, barely heard over the heater whirling in the background. “Sometimes, I swear the woman has ties to some sort of mafia. I’ve learned to pick my battles; otherwise, she finds loopholes that work in her favor if she’s against the idea.”
At the detested word, “mafia,” my entire body feels as though Elsa fromFrozenhas turned it into a block of ice. “Surely she can’t be that bad.”
Principal Woodnut releases a long yes-she’s-that-bad sigh and nods. “But I’m sure she should be fine with you doing this—except for one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Zoe’s the one who organizes the school performances, and she’s now on maternity leave.”
“I don’t suppose her replacement has the same musical theatre experience and the expertise to pull the show together?”
A barked, raspy laugh escapes Principal Woodnut. “I can guarantee Landon doesn’t have that kind of expertise.”
Before I can think things through, I blurt, “I can do it. I can organize the show.”
Please say yes. Please say yes. Please—
“Absolutely, if Tabitha and the PTA are on board with it, and you’re willing to organize the show yourself—with the help of any faculty who volunteers to assist you—then you have my blessing. But remember, we don’t have much of a budget for this, so you’ll have to figure out how to keep it within the allotted amount. And that includes transportation to and from the seniors’ residence.”
“Perfect. I can do that.” Buzzing with relief and excitement, I stand.
Principal Woodnut glances at the Mickey Mouse clock on her desk. “You’d better get to class. Kiera will be letting the students in shortly.”
Right.
I head for the door.
“Oh,” she adds before I get there, “and can you help Landon since he’s new…to teaching elementary students?”
“He is? What age group has he worked with?”
“High school.”
High school? God, I can only imagine what a disaster that would’ve been, with impressionable teenage girls falling in love with him because he’s good-looking. Talk about awkward.
“Does he have any experience working with kindergarteners?”
“No, that’s why he might need your assistance from time to time. You might consider keeping the door between your classrooms open, so you can hear if the kids prove to be a handful for him.”
That causes me to startle. Why would she hire him if she didn’t believe he was capable of dealing with that age? He can’t be the only available person who could cover for Zoe. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Attagirl.”
