I opened my tablet to write a note.
Willa leaned over my arm and typed something into the meeting title field.
Fall Planning Session!!!
I changed it back to Fall Planning Session with a period.
“One exclamation point then,” she said. “A compromise.”
“Exclamation points are unnecessary in documentation.”
“They’re fun.”
“They’re inefficient.”
“One,” she said again.
I took in the smile she wasn’t bothering to hide, and I added two exclamation points.
Her grin widened.
Ms. Collins, standing nearby, laughed. “You two are perfect together.”
We waved as the bus left the parking lot.
The day blurred after that with intake calls and creature administration. Drogar asked if we had any leftover cookies, which we did. Krem wrote about the program’s success on social media, and Brovish suggested that thirty-seven posts might be too many.
Late in the day, Willa found me by the bloomback enclosure. Rue and Fern stood together near the water trough, their flowers even brighter than they’d been during the school visit.
“We did it,” Willa said.
“We did.”
“Those kids are going to remember this forever.” She leaned against the fence beside me. “You were amazing with them.”
My throat closed off. “You made it work. I would’ve overwhelmed them with details in the first five minutes.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. You told them Rue and Fern love each other. You didn’t reach for your tablet once.”
She was right. I hadn’t.
I’d chosen what mattered.
By the time we walked home, the sun had slid toward the tree line.
When we reached the cottage, I found a folded message pinned to the door.
My smile faded, and I tugged it off and opened it, dreading what I’d see.
“What does it say?” Willa asked.
“The scribe will arrive tomorrow morning at nine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
WILLA
The oversized truck appeared at the end of the dirt road just after nine the next morning, dust rising behind it in a pale cloud. Traig stood at the window of our home, his hands loose at his sides, watching the scribe’s vehicle crawl closer.