She tapped a fingertip on the table. “This isn’t a math problem with one right answer, Mr. Burnham. There aren’t even ten right answers, or a million right answers. There areinfiniteright answers.”
That lack of surety was discomfiting at best. Terrifying at worst.
But it didn’t matter how much he feared problems without a clear solution. What mattered: the wrong he’d done his colleague by presuming her less a professional than she actually was.
“I apologize, Ms. Wick. Again.” He maintained eye contact as a reassurance of his sincerity, despite his desire to turn away in shame. “I’ve underestimated you, and I promise to try my best not to do so in the future.”
He wouldn’t make excuses for himself. He wouldn’t. But she needed to understand, if only to comprehend—
Well, not the contents of his heart. But maybe his innermost thoughts. Some of them, anyway.
“I just—” Under her scrutiny, he fumbled for the right words. “As you said, maybe I should have talked to Principal Dunn before offering my critique. But I didn’t want to get…”
No, he should just keep his mouth shut. His innermost thoughts were his to keep.
But it was too late. That same glow of revelation he’d seen on her student transfused Ms. Wick’s expression, and her mouth pursed in a silentoh.
She blinked at him, her throat shifting as she swallowed.
“You didn’t want to get me into trouble,” she finally finished for him, her voice hoarse and warm and so liquid he could have bathed in it.
Yes. Yes, that was exactly what he’d tried not to say.
After giving herself a little shake, she sat up straighter. “I appreciate your consideration, Mr. Burnham, but you still could haveaskedme if I’d somehow addressed your concerns ahead of time, instead of assuming I hadn’t.”
He could have. It would, in fact, have been the logical way to handle the situation.
Which was…a disturbing realization.
An outside observer would almost conclude that he was, for some reason,tryingto think badly of Ms. Wick.Determinedto see flaws where they didn’t necessarily exist.
It was yet another problem whose answer wasn’t quite clear to him. Yet another mystery to unravel, when he’d never, ever, been good at interpreting clues.
“You’re right.” He didn’t equivocate. “That’s what I should have done.”
Her chin dipped in a firm little nod. “Graciously conceded, Mr. Burnham. I forgive you. For everything.”
The chunky amber spheres of her necklace glowed against her pale skin, and her eyes were fathomless.
“Please call me Simon,” he said.
“Gladly.” The curve of her lips was small and sweet. “And I’m Poppy.”
She offered her hand, as if they were meeting for the first time, and he shook it. Her fingers were long and blunt, her palm warm and slightly rough, her grip firm.
He couldn’t breathe.
As quickly as was polite, he let go and met her gaze. “If you’re leaving soon, why don’t I walk you to your car? The sun’s going down earlier and earlier these days.”
Shuffling steps in the darkness.
I feel so much less safe now.
Mildred got what she deserved.
No, Poppy wasn’t going to that deserted parking lot alone. Not if he could help it.
“All right,” she said after a moment, her gaze tentative, the words halting. “I just need five minutes, if you don’t mind waiting.”
