Page 24 of The Headmaster’s Rule

“He went home a few minutes ago, but said you’d left Eleanor’s proposal in his office. I’ve put it on your desk.”

I release my breath. I was hoping to have another discussion with him about the Safe Harbor proposal, one where he could help me critically evaluate it, rather than simply sing its praises, but that will have to wait.

“Thanks, Margaret.”

She peers at me over her glasses. “Are you considering it?”

“I… don’t know,” I answer honestly.

She hesitates, weighing something. I motion for her to share what’s on her mind.

“If you want my two cents, it’s not bad at all.”

This gives me pause. Margaret has been with this place longer than I have, and I trust her implicitly.

“How so?”

“It’s the sort of idea that challenges the status quo, which usually means it’s worth a second look.”

I stroke my chin, contemplating this.

“You could do worse,” she adds, turning back to her screen. “You have done worse, if memory serves.”

“Thank you, Margaret,” I say dryly, turning toward my office.

I close the door to find the proposal waiting on my desk, but I don’t sit down yet. I stand there, staring at it, hoping maybe it’ll tell me what to do.

Picking up the booklet, I flip through it again. I only read the first two pages this morning, quick to dismiss it, but as I sink into my chair, reexamining it, I’m forced to ask myself: if this had come across my desk from anyone else, would I have rejected it so quickly?

Because backing this doesn’t only feel risky to the school. It feels risky to me. Like opening a door I’ve tried to keep closed. Like saying yes to more than just Safe Harbor.

You don’t have to figure it out alone, you know.

Eleanor’s words from last week ring through my head. The earnest way she wanted to help.

That part of me wanted to let her.

I’m so used to doing things alone. For fifteen years, I had no choice. Then along comes Eleanor, offering to shoulder some of the burden.

Maybe that’s what scares me the most. Not the board. Not the parents. But how easily she’s getting under my skin.

If I remove Eleanor from the picture—her voice, her smile, the way she leans forward when she’s passionate about something—if I strip that away and look at the idea on its own…

It’s good. I can see that. Her proposal is thorough, hits everything it needs to, and, if we could pull it off, would benefit the students and community greatly. I’d need to get the board’s approval, but if we frame it correctly, that shouldn’t be too hard. They want results, and the kids are struggling. If we can measure tangible benefits—improved attendance, better engagement, fewer behavioral issues—then they can’t argue.

Besides, it’s a pilot program. A test. We’ll start it on a limited scale, with a specific scope, and built-in evaluation at each stage. If it doesn’t work out, it won’t be a huge scandal.

This isn’t the same as last time.

And after making such a mess of things before, I owe it to them to try.

But even as I tell myself that, I know this isn’t only about atonement. It’s about hope.

And something in me wants to say yes.

CHAPTER 10

Eleanor