Читать книгу Four Little Problems - Carrie Weaver - Страница 9

EMILY WAS EARLY. She folded her hands and rested them on top of the file folder. Her latte was off to the side, untouched. She couldn’t summon her usual gusto for sweets.

Her boss, Olivia, had allowed Emily to skip her second break in favor of leaving early. Voice mail could pick up the phones at the Luxury Lingerie office for the last fifteen minutes of the workday.

Glancing at the file folder, she tried to gather her thoughts. None of it made sense. Not Tiffany’s notes, not the numbers, nothing.

The bell above the door tinkled as Patrick Stevens entered and placed his order. Tall, dark-haired and serious, he was everything a single woman of forty should want. Unfortunately, Emily’s tastes strayed more toward the unreliable. What was it about her that was attracted to the worst kind of man?

She was surprised when Patrick approached, two bottles of water hanging from his fingers, while he balanced a plate with two double chocolate chunk cookies. It was a sight that might have endeared him to her, if he weren’t such a pompous ass. And if she had an appetite. For cookies, that is.

“I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of ordering an extra cookie and water bottle….”

“No, I don’t mind.” It was kind of sweet. But she didn’t like sweets these days, she reminded herself.

Emily gestured toward the opposite chair.

While he deposited the food and drinks, she pretended to read Tiffany’s notes. Instead, she found herself watching him from beneath her lashes. He had beautiful hands. Not feminine beautiful. Strong, masculine, survey-every-inch-of-a-woman’s-body beautiful. They hinted at slow, skillful lovemaking.

The small, white scar at the tip of his middle finger stopped her errant thoughts.

Had he acquired a sense of humor about the mousetrap incident?

She was afraid to ask.

Shaking her head, Emily forced her thoughts to the practical. This was her opportunity to show everyone she was more than a brash woman who couldn’t control her kids. “I’m glad you suggested meeting. I’ve read Tiffany’s notes backward and forward and I can’t seem to make sense of them. I thought maybe you’d have more luck.”

He handed her a water and removed the cap from his own. “Sorry, didn’t realize you’d already ordered. You can save it for later. It’s important to stay hydrated.”

Ah. This was the Patrick Stevens she remembered. She sincerely doubted he’d acquired a sense of humor about anything.

“Yes. Thank you.”

She slid the file folder across the table. “See what you think.”

He opened the folder. Flipping through the pages, he frowned. “Most of this looks like doodling.” Turning the file sideways, he said. “And this looks like it might be her grocery list.”

“That’s what I thought. Kinda weird, because Tiffany always seemed to be taking notes with her PDA. I figured she was so anal, everything would be prioritized and printed up.”

“She did seem very organized. And you’re right, there’s nothing in here about the Florida field trip. Are you sure this was all you were given?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Did he think she was so scatterbrained, she might have misplaced a whole sheaf of papers containing Tiffany Bigelow’s rounded script?

Two could play at that game. “Didn’t you keep any notes?”

“Yes, they’re in my backpack somewhere.” He shoved a piece of cookie in his mouth, wiped his hands on a napkin and rummaged through his pack.

He reminded Emily of a chipmunk. But his hazel eyes were too serious for such a mischievous creature. He might be cute, if he’d lighten up.

“Here it is.” He triumphantly produced a wire-bound pad of paper, suitable for taking notes in class.

He paged through until he found the appropriate section.

Sliding it across the table, he pointed to a row of figures.

“Those are the projected costs, minus the monies we’ve brought in through various fund-raising projects of our own.”

“Yes, I think I remember hearing about a car wash?” Emily had tried to block out any information pertaining to Patrick Stevens. Apparently, she’d failed. “And a bake sale?”

He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, the kids are pretty industrious once they get their hearts set on something.”

“Yes, they are.” Emily swallowed hard, then glanced away, unable to meet his earnest gaze. His obvious affection for his students stung. Why couldn’t he have been that way with Jason? It might have made a world of difference to the boy. Instead, her son had been rejected by yet another male authority figure. She’d sometimes wondered if Jason’s pranks had been a bid for attention, a clumsy way to connect with this reserved man.

Instead, Patrick Stevens had been cold and unyielding. And Emily’s heart had broken as she’d watched Jason build a wall around his emotions. Her once fun-loving, affectionate son had grown sarcastic and rude. Prepubescent hormones were one explanation. But Emily thought his attitude was probably more the result of one disappointment too many coming from a father figure.

Of course, Emily shouldn’t blame the teacher. Loving his students wasn’t in his contract. Nor trying to understand them.

“Ms. Patterson?”

Emily flushed. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“I pointed out the figure we’ll need from the PTO funds. Tiffany didn’t seem to think it would be a problem.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of money. I’ve seen the PTO budget and I can’t help but wonder why Tiffany agreed to this.”

“She mentioned having some special fund-raising project in the works for the spring that would make it possible.”

“What kind of special project?”

“That’s just it. I have no idea. She wouldn’t say. Just said it was big.”

“I’ll talk to Principal Ross. Maybe she knew about it. Something that big would need to be planned well in advance.”

“Time is critical, Ms. Patterson. The hotel and bus companies are pressing for deposits. We have enough from our own fund-raising, but I don’t want to make a nonrefundable deposit if there’s a chance the PTO won’t come through on what’s been promised. I need to know right away.”

“Mr. Stevens, obviously I can’t commit to something I know nothing about. I’ll talk to the principal, see if she knows where the rest of Tiffany’s notes might be. In the meantime, Principal Ross is putting my name on the PTO account. I can’t access the bank statements until then.”

“Can’t Ross access them?”

Emily shook her head. She was starting to get a bad feeling about this. “There was some mix-up at the bank and Principal Ross was removed as a cosigner. After the treasurer moved to Texas in November, Tiffany was the only one with access.”

Patrick cursed under his breath. He seemed to swear a lot for a dispassionate guy.

EMILY SET A STACK of paper plates in the center of the large picnic table she used for a kitchen dinette set. Nancy’s husband, Beau, was working tonight, so she and Ana were staying for dinner.

“So maybe Tiffany was playing fast and loose with the PTO funds?” Nancy’s eyes sparkled with interest as she folded paper napkins and arranged them with plastic cutlery. “I knew there was something about that woman.”

“I didn’t say that. We won’t know anything until one of us can access the account. Principal Ross said she’d go to the bank tomorrow and straighten it out.”

“But still, it’s a little strange, don’t you think? Only Tiffany’s name as signatory on the account?”

“Shh. I don’t want to start any rumors.” Emily nodded meaningfully toward the family room, where her two younger boys, Mark and Ryan, played hide-and-seek with Nancy’s daughter, Ana.

Jason had basketball practice and Jeremy was playing at a neighbor’s house.

Nancy sighed. “My bad. I guess I was hoping to dig up some dirt on the woman. She was just trying too hard to be perfect. And was downright mean, to boot.”

“I hope all of this turns out to be an honest mistake. The whole PTO thing is getting more complicated by the minute. Patrick Stevens is pressing me to release funds for the sixth-grade trip to Sea World.”

“You obviously need all the facts before you can do something like that. What’s his hurry?”

“He has good reason.” Emily put out a large bucket of the Colonel’s chicken, along with containers of coleslaw and baked beans. “Hotel and transportation deposits need to be made. But there’s nothing I can do.”

“This is more than you bargained for, huh?” Nancy’s voice was warm with concern.

“You don’t know the half of it. The PE teacher gave me some brochures for sports equipment. The art teacher mentioned how desperately we need art supplies. And the music instructor showed me how old and worn-out the band instruments are.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure, Em.”

“It is. And there’s a part of me that thinks the money Tiffany supposedly promised for the Florida trip could be put to better uses.”

“It’s a tough call, no doubt about it. But if you find Tiffany’s notes and she already promised the money, you’ll be hard-pressed to back out now.”

“That’s just it. I’ll be damned if I do and damned if I don’t. It might be best if Tiffany’s notes aren’t found. Then I can at least do what my conscience says is right.”

Nancy squeezed her arm. “Let’s look on the bright side. Maybe her fabulous spring fund-raiser will bring in so much money, you’ll be able to please everyone.”

Emily nodded. “Maybe.”

But as a single mom on a tight budget, she knew all too well there was rarely enough money to go around and someone always ended up mad. And it was starting to look like Patrick Stevens might be the angry one if the PTO budget was tight.

PATRICK ARRIVED at school well before the first bell. It had become a tradition.

And sure enough, he saw two figures huddled in the doorway, their thin coats probably affording very little warmth. It had been a mild winter for upstate New York, but mornings were still chilly. “Hey Ari, Kat. You look like you could use some hot chocolate.”

The two kids turned, nodding.

“The usual spot?” he asked.

They nodded again, following him to a bench near the doors.

Though Patrick walked slowly, he still reached the bench before them. He turned and waited.

Ari’s gait was erratic, one foot turned inward. His twin sister, Kat, slowed her pace to match his.

Patrick swallowed hard as he remembered another boy with a less pronounced pigeon-toed gait. A boy who had once run, laughed and played, but was developmentally little more than a toddler now.

He pushed the thought away. He couldn’t take that trip down memory lane.

When they’d settled themselves on the bench, Patrick withdrew a thermos from his backpack. He would have preferred a strong cup of coffee, but this ritual was for Ari and Kat.

He poured the steaming mixture into three cups.

The children waited patiently while he handed them each a foam cup.

The expressions in their huge, dark eyes were unreadable. Someone’s stomach growled.

“I hope you guys will help me out.” He withdrew a packet from his backpack. “I have these muffins that will go stale if someone doesn’t eat them. I thought maybe you two could help.”

“Yes, Mr. Stevens, we’ll help.” Kat spoke for both of them as she often did.

“Good.” He handed them each a banana-oat muffin, wishing it was a four-course hot breakfast. Their parents were immigrants, both working sixteen-hour days to make ends meet. Sometimes, he suspected there wasn’t enough food in the house.

Patrick sipped his hot cocoa, wondering if the kids thought it strange they didn’t go inside where it was warm. But they never asked, so he was spared explaining that it wasn’t prudent for a teacher to show a special interest in a child behind closed doors. He could understand the practical reasons, but it still saddened him.

Instead, they sat, shivering, right in front of the school, where they were appropriately supervised by anyone who might drive or walk by.

“I read…the book,” Ari said. His speech was a bit slow because of cerebral palsy, but his mind was sharp. He’d been mainstreamed several years back and had done fine. Of course, he also had his own personal guardian angel in the form of Kat.

“What did you think of the book, Ari?”

“Dolphins are smart and nice,” he enunciated slowly.

“Yes, they’re good animals. There are lots of true stories of dolphins keeping humans from drowning.” Funny, how he could say the word drowning without even flinching. Progress perhaps?

Ari’s eyes were bright with excitement. “I…will…swim with the dolphins. At Sea World.”

The thought made Patrick’s stomach churn.

“Sure, we’ll see the dolphins. I think you can even pet them from a boat.”

“No.” His reply was emphatic. “Swim.”

Anything but that.

For the first time he could remember, Patrick ignored Ari. “What about you, Kat, did you read the book?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to see the dolphins and penguins?”

She hesitated, as if afraid to believe in something that would turn out to be a fairy tale. “I’ll go if Ari goes.”

“Good. You guys worked really hard at the car wash.”

There was no way in hell he’d allow this trip to die. He’d promised all the sixth-graders, but most importantly, he’d promised Ari and Kat.

Emily Patterson would just have to do the right thing.

EMILY SIGHED when she hung up the phone, eyeing her overflowing In basket. Now she knew why it was mostly stay-at-home moms who were PTO presidents. She was in the unenviable position of having to ask to leave early two days in a row.

She found her boss in her office. “Olivia, the principal from the school called and wants to meet with me.”

Olivia gave her a pitying look. She probably assumed it was about Jason again.

Emily’s conscience twinged, but she didn’t correct her. She didn’t want her job jeopardized because of her PTO position.

Fortunately, Olivia was understanding. “Voice mail can pick up the phones. And you said you’d work through your lunch hour tomorrow?”

“Yes, I will. Thanks a bunch, Olivia.”

Her boss nodded. “Go.”

Emily grabbed her purse, forwarded the phones and left in a matter of minutes. She was breathless when she reached Principal Ross’s office, following Patrick through the door.

“Good, you’re both here,” the principal said. “Please close the door.”

Emily’s heart sank.

“Please, sit.” The woman sat behind her desk and nodded toward two chairs.

Patrick pulled out one of the chairs slightly and gestured for her to sit down.

His courtesy flustered her.

But she sat.

And so did he, in the chair next to her. They were practically knee-to-knee in the small office.

Principal Ross cleared her throat. “What I have to say is rather difficult. I expect it to stay in this room. Not to be repeated to anyone.”

“Of course,” Patrick said.

“Yes, of course,” Emily murmured, aware that she’d probably already shared too much with Nancy. But Nancy was discreet and wouldn’t repeat the information.

“I spent several hours at the bank today. The PTO account was in complete disarray. But the gist is, there’s only a few dollars left.”

Patrick stiffened. “There’s got to be some mistake.”

“I’m sorry, there’s no mistake. The branch manager checked and rechecked the figures while I was there. I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to contact the police.”

“Do you have any idea where the money went?” Emily asked.

Marilyn Ross’s mouth turned down at the corners. For a moment, Emily was afraid she might cry.

“I guess I can go ahead and tell you. There were several sizeable cash withdrawals made over the past three months. During the time that Tiffany Bigelow was sole signatory.”

Patrick swore under his breath.

Emily silently agreed.

“So I’m in the unenviable position of heaping more grief on the Bigelow family.”

“What effect will this have on the Sea World trip and all the other requests for PTO assistance?” Emily asked.

“The account is frozen. Tiffany had been very excited about a spectacular new connection she’d made for a fund-raising activity, but she didn’t share the details. I’m afraid I was distracted by…other priorities and didn’t give it the attention I should have.”

“Tiffany always took notes.” Patrick leaned forward. “I’ve been thinking she might have files on her home computer.”

“The thought crossed my mind, too. But the police will be involved very soon and I don’t think we’ll be in a position to ask favors from Tiffany’s husband. I sincerely doubt he’ll let us anywhere near her computer.”

Patrick hesitated, glancing at his watch. “It’s late. Surely, you don’t intend to call the police tonight.”

The principal sighed. “No, to be honest I just want to go home and have a glass of wine. This has been one heck of a day.”

“Since there’s nothing more we can do today, why don’t we sleep on it and maybe there will be an obvious solution tomorrow morning?” Patrick’s face was bland, innocent.

But Emily could almost feel electricity rolling off him. He might have sincere hazel eyes, but he was up to something.

“Yes. Let’s call it a day. I’ll update both of you within the next day or so. Remember, this goes no further than this room.”

Emily murmured agreement, aware of Patrick’s hand on her elbow as they left the office.

“Can I talk to you outside?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

“Of course.” Of course…she should run like hell. Because the reliable Mr. Stevens was putting out some decidedly dangerous vibes.

“Where’s your car?” he asked as they left the building.

She nodded in the direction of her minivan. “Over there.”

He was silent as they walked to her car.

Emily punched the button on her keyless entry tag. The lock opened, but she hesitated.

Patrick’s gaze was intent. “I need to ask you to do something for me.”

With some men, she would have figured he was propositioning her. The ones who hadn’t figured out that, although she enjoyed an off-color joke and liked to pretend she was worldly-wise, she kept her sex life toward the nonexistent end of the spectrum. She’d learned the consequences of loving too soon, too easily.

But she suspected Patrick had something else in mind. And that intrigued her.

“What?”

“I need access to Tiffany’s computer.”

“You heard Principal Ross. There’s no way we’ll get near that computer.”

“There’s one way. We go tonight, together, and ask Brad Bigelow. We tell him we’re very sorry to bother him, but we need Tiffany’s PTO files.”

“I’m not going to pester her family while they’re grieving.”

Patrick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It is kind of ghoulish. But we’ll be very tactful, very respectful. And we might discover some simple answer for the missing money. We could end up saving her family more grief.”

Emily contemplated his argument. They might actually be helping Tiffany’s family. It was a stretch, though. “Why do I have to be there?”

“People trust you. You’re very open and always say what you think.”

Emily chuckled, a hoarse, desperate sound. And here she’d thought nobody listened to a word she said. “I’m trustworthy, so you want me to lie to a man who suddenly lost his wife and the mother of his children and must be out of his mind with grief.”

“Yes.” He frowned. “I guess that’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Let the police handle it.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do. But you heard Ross. Once the police are involved that computer will be tied up for years. It won’t harm anyone if we copy her PTO files.” He leaned closer, his gaze earnest. “Please?”

“It means that much to you, this Florida trip?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

He glanced away. “I’m not going to disappoint those kids.” His voice was low.

Emily was touched. And wary. This was not the Patrick Stevens she’d met two years ago. “Okay. But I’ll need to get home first to feed my kids and supervise their homework. Should we call Brad?”

“No. Let’s not give him any advance warning.”

“I can meet you at eight. We’ll need the Bigelow’s address. I think they live on Cedar….”

“I’ve got their address in here.” He patted his backpack.

Emily had to wonder why he seemed so prepared, as if he’d known he would need the information. She also had to wonder if maybe there was another reason he was so anxious to get his hands on Tiffany’s files.