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1
I love getting dirty before school starts.
Harvesting the final haul of the summer herbs and tending the winter squash in the school garden has become a favorite annual activity for my Aunt Katie and me on the day before the start of the fall term.
Since I was promoted to headmistress three Septembers ago, Aunt Katie—former headmistress herself—just can’t keep herself from coming by the school to see if I need help before the grounds fill up with children and my schedule overflows with meetings and other obligations.
Sunlight shimmers on the small lake nearby as she laughs and reminisces about her turbulent times leading the academy.
“It’s a wonder you can laugh about it,” I say, pulling out a basil plant that’s bolted with little white flowers. “They put you through hell back in the day.”
She waves me off and fills her basket with fresh mint. “Well, one fine-looking detective helped smooth over the rough places in my memory.”
I stop to dab beads of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and look at her. She still blushes talking about her now-retired hunk of a husband. “You had many years of celibacy to make up for,” I say to her with a laugh. “That might have had something to do with it.”
A day cannot possibly get better for me than spending it with her, the only blood family I have left. Tomorrow, my other “family” arrives—all the children in their pristine, pressed new uniforms, eager to fill their little brains with knowledge.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “In all my years of educating, I’ve never felt anything better than the jolt of excitement on the day before school.”
Aunt Katie laughs and spikes her spade into the dirt, finished with her side of the garden. “That’s because you’ve never had a proper jolt to your nethers.”
“Oh God!” I say, covering my ears as she laughs at my mortification.
“Why don’t you let me set you up with one of Dean’s friends? All retired, no drama.”
I shake my head and pull out the annual flowers, getting the bed ready for mums. “Maybe I like drama. Maybe I like men my own age. Or younger.”
Immediately I know I’ve said too much. I can see Katie pointing. “Well, you’ve never gotten over—”
“Don’t say it!” I shout over her, but with a silly grin that can’t be denied. “You’ll get me fired.”
She dismisses my worry with a wave of her hand. “My dear, you cannot be fired for a thing that never happened with a student eight years ago!”
I scoff. “First of all, keep your voice down. Second of all, yes I can. He could come back and sue me for sexual harassment. I don’t know what he’s like now.”
“He pursued you!”
“Well, I didn’t exactly hate it.” I toss the old, dying summer flowers into the wheelbarrow. “Anyway, anybody can sue anybody for any reason these days. Let’s not jinx it, okay?”
I set my mind to the tasks I need to finish later today. When Katie and I finish with the garden, I plan to shop for school supplies for kids at the nearby public school. My secret annual anonymous tradition makes my heart happy. I’ve never told Katie about this thing I do. I receive enough fawning and praise from her already; any unnecessary attention embarrasses me.
I could easily let the groundskeeping crew handle the garden and spend my whole day preparing for the start of school, but planting and pulling weeds is good exercise. And, as it was a pet project of mine, it does the students good to see me working in it.
Katie and I clean up our messes while we talk about lunch when I notice a strange woman approaching from the visitors parking lot. I stand up to greet her as she comes closer.
Her conservative, professional and plain outfit first makes me think she could be looking for a job here.
“May I help you?” I ask as she walks directly up to me.
“Mary Martha Moody?”
I chuckle because absolutely nobody calls me by my full name.
“Yes, I’m Martha.”
The young woman holds a manila envelope out to me. Confused, I reach for it and when I do, she chirps, “You’ve been served.”
I stand there in shock while I watch the woman disappear into the lot. I drop my gardening gloves to examine the contents of the envelope.
“My God, we did jinx it. Is that boy actually suing you?” Katie asks, but my heart hammers so loud and my ears ring so badly, she could be a thousand miles away.
I snap myself out of my temporary fugue and read the first lines of the papers inside.
Oh. Shit.
“What is it?” Katie demands to know.
I hold it out to her and she takes it.
“It’s not that boy. It’s the Chamberlains,” I sigh, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose, as if the universe will be set right again if I just concentrate hard enough.
Katie, the former nun and most formidable leader this school has ever seen, mutters, “So they’re at it again, are they? Fucking Chamberlains.”
2
Miles
My newest client can best be descri
bed as a giant prick.
I feel close to being completely over having to take on clients that I hate.
Clicking my Montblanc pen absentmindedly under the conference table, I try not to let my eyes glaze over while the guy across from me blusters, “And when we get rid of the ice queen that runs that school, we go after all the teachers and administrators who are loyal to her.”
As a fresh, green associate at Garcia, Smith & Jones, I don’t have a lot of choices in my clients. When a busy founding partner of the firm gives one of her cases to you, you say, “Yes, Ms. Garcia, and may I also shine your shoes?”
As the client blathers on about what he wants out of this case, I can’t decide what I resent more: the fact that he’s going after a female headmistress of my alma mater, or that he’s chosen to wear shorts and a ballcap to this initial consultation. True, the general public isn’t subject to a dress code when meeting with an attorney. But come on. Present yourself like a grown-ass man.
“…And I know for a fact the school library has a whole section of religious texts, so what could she possibly have against a simple statue? You know what I think? I think she’s biased. If she’s gonna remove all religious symbols from the school then she should get rid of those books, too.”
I have to remind myself that I don’t have to like the guy. But I do have to try to understand what he’s rambling about. Truth is, I haven’t even opened the file yet. Garcia dumped this guy on me less than an hour ago and I haven’t exactly had time to prepare for this meeting.
Hell, it’s been so long since I visited the hallowed halls of Greenbridge Academy that I don’t even know who this headmistress is currently.
