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“You’ve been out drinking.”
“Just a little, honey.”
“You’re not planning on driving Caroline while drunk, right?”
His smile disappears a little. His clean-shaven face and pale, dry skin tighten as he thinks of a reply.
“I’m not drank.”
“You mean you’re not drunk, right, Greg?”
“That’s what I said.” He frowns, then smiles like he can’t decide on the expression to maintain. “I gotta go to work soon. Do you want to get a bite?”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re working on the site too. I sure hope you’re not handling heavy machinery.”
He nods, then shifts closer with his head almost inside my car. I move backward, the smell of rum making me heady. “That man took your land, Erin. He breezed into town like some big shot, and we’re all supposed to kiss the ground he walks on? If I weren’t working for him, I’d… I’d sock him in the goddamn jaw!”
“Yeah, but if you do that, Greg. You’d end up in jail. You’d also lose your job, so you should probably just calm down, okay?”
“Why don’t your parents help you, though? They certainly got the money.”
I hear Ruby call out to me and see her approaching my Prius. Mrs. Johnson is walking alongside her. She’s been the head teacher for as long as I can remember, and she’s just as tall and thin as she was when I was a kid.
Greg shifts back as I open my car door. I weave through the crowd of parents and kids as I approach Ruby. I could feel Greg’s eyes on my jeans-clad ass as I left. I look over my shoulder at him, and he looks away quickly, pretending to study the busy street.
Perv.
“Mrs. Johnson. Hello!”
Ruby wraps her arms around my leg as I collect her bag and throw it across my shoulder. My hand finds her back, and I give her a light rub.
Mrs. Johnson peers down at Ruby and me from above her crescent-shaped glasses.
“See what I painted, Layla.” Ruby hands me a painting of a tree. It looks much better than what she painted the other day.
“This is amazing, Ruby. I love it.”
She smiles at me, her tiny hands holding onto me. I keep my hand on her back.
“Layla? Isn’t that your middle name, Erin?” Mrs. Johnson leans in closer to me and whispers.
“She likes the name. I don’t have the heart to correct her,” I reply softly.
“Where’s Ruby’s dad?” She shields her lean face from the sun with her hand.
“He had to go away on business to New York yesterday, but he should be back today, ma’am.”
The way she talks makes me feel like I’m in school again, and she’s my teacher. Mrs. Johnson taught Deanna back then, too, so she’s teaching two generations of the Fishers. It feels surreal to think about.
“Tell him I need to see him when he’s free,” she says, her hand still on her face.
“Is there any problem?”
“Not at all. I’ll tell it to the father. It’s nothing serious.”
“Is this about the news articles?”
“I’d like to meet him and get a sense of the kind of man he is, that’s all, Erin.” She waves a hand.
