Pamela Tracy - Once Upon a Christmas

“But the fact that you might hit someone is exactly why the aide asked you to stop,” the principal said patiently.

“And you didn’t listen,” Jared added, finally getting his voice.

“But—”

“No buts.”

“If you’d packed me leftover turkey from Thanksgiving, like I wanted,” Caleb accused, “this wouldn’t have happened. Turkey doesn’t stick.”

“Caleb!”

Caleb had the good sense to stop talking.

Cassidy looked from Caleb to Jared before saying, “See, Mama, I told you it wasn’t me.”

Now that Jared looked again, the woman in question didn’t look old enough to be so in control of the situation, let alone a mama, or a business owner. Yet, she was all three. This past summer, Joel, Jared’s younger brother, had done some work on her vintage clothing shop. Because Joel’s fiancée wanted a vintage wedding, Joel had spent a lot of time talking about vintage clothes and about the shopkeeper. His description hadn’t done Maggie Tate justice.

Her deep brown hair fell in a blunt cut that was shorter than he liked and barely reached her shoulders. When she’d walked into the principal’s office, five minutes late and looking non-repentant, he’d noted the short gray-and-red dress that gave him a chance to admire a nice pair of legs encased in some sort of black tights. Black clunky shoes with ridiculous heels finished the outfit.

City girl.

She’d probably been chatting up a customer in her store when she’d gotten the call from the school. He’d been in the field wrapping up corn harvest.

She smelled of some sort of jasmine perfume; he smelled of sweat.

“...not the first time for either of them,” Mrs. Tyson was saying.

“What?” Jared straightened up. He’d missed the first half of the sentence.

Again came the half smile and Jared knew the principal was enjoying this. Maybe because Jared’s stepfather had been principal of Roanoke Elementary for thirty years and some parents still went to him first, only to be redirected back to Mrs. Tyson. Maybe because Mrs. Tyson had heard about the McCreedy boys, and their escapades, even though more than a decade had passed since they’d been students here. Maybe because Mrs. Tyson knew the color in Jared’s cheeks wasn’t because Caleb was in trouble but because it had been far too long since he had admired a pair of legs.

“I was talking about throwing lunch boxes. This is not the first time for either of them.”

Maggie looked at Cassidy. “Were you throwing lunch boxes, too?”

“Not today.”

“But some other day?” Maggie insisted. “Did you hit Caleb with a lunch box some other day?”

Cassidy’s lips went together. The answer was in her expression. Yes.

The principal’s brows went together. Clearly, this was the first she’d heard of it.

“Why did you tattle,” Maggie asked, “if you’ve done the same thing to him?”

Caleb and Cassidy exchanged a look, no longer adversaries, now conspirators.

“She didn’t tattle,” Mrs. Tyson said. “The aide did and the aide had plenty to say. Seems that while Caleb was removed from the lunchroom and escorted to his teacher, Cassidy hid his lunch box and doesn’t seem to remember where.”

Jared closed his eyes. Caleb’s teacher was soon to be Jared’s sister-in-law.

“We’ll take care of this at home,” he said firmly as he stood, giving Caleb a look that said we’re going. “I promise you that.”

“We’ll find the lunch box,” Maggie quickly offered. “Or—” she shot Cassidy a glance that could only mean trouble “—we’ll buy him a new one from your allowance.”

Cassidy’s mouth opened to an exaggerated O. That quickly, Caleb was back to adversary.

“If he threw the lunch box at her, she’s not buying him a new one,” Jared argued.

“People.” One word, that’s all it took when it was an elementary school principal.

Ten minutes later, Jared stood outside the principal’s office door tightly holding Caleb’s hand. Maggie and her daughter were still inside.

“This is my baddest day.” Caleb didn’t even try to fight the tears. Of Jared’s three boys, he was the one who cried freely, whined often and ran full tilt from the time he got out of bed until he fell back into it. He argued the most, too. But, Caleb was also the one who still climbed on Jared’s lap, laughed until tears came to his eyes and who knew the name of each and every animal on the farm.

If they didn’t have a name, Caleb gave them one.

“I doubt that,” Jared said calmly. “We’ll talk later. Now, don’t start whining.”

“I can’t help it. I really want my lunch box. It’s my favorite.”

Jared pictured the lunch boxes sitting on the kitchen counter. Grandpa Billy packed them every morning. Ryan’s was a plain blue. Nine-year-olds no longer needed action figures or at least his didn’t. Matt’s was Star Wars. Caleb’s was Spider-Man.

“We should go buy a new one,” Caleb suggested. “There’s a really cool one—”

“No, we should go to the cafeteria and see if the lunch ladies found it.”

Caleb followed, feet dragging. “I don’t want to go there.”

Of course he didn’t. The principal had just assigned him a full week of wiping down tables instead of going to recess. Jared intended to do the same at home along with no television for a week.

The cafeteria hadn’t changed all that much since Jared’s years. There were still rows of tables with benches that could be levered up to make mopping easier. Large gray trash baskets were in the four corners. Right now, decorations of snowflakes and wrapped presents were taped to the walls. Snowmen and Santas shared messages of “Don’t Forget our Winter Program.”

No way could Jared forget. He’d recently been put in charge of props. In just a few weeks, Caleb would be dressed like an elf and singing with his class. Ryan actually had the part of Santa. Matt would pretend to have a stomachache the night of the program. According to the note sent by Matt’s teacher, he had the role of delivering presents to people in the audience.

Smart teacher.

“You start in here,” Jared ordered. “I’ll go in the kitchen.”

A few minutes later, Maggie Tate joined them in the search. She poked her head in the kitchen door. “I’m so sorry. She’ll be wiping down lunch tables with him.”

Jared almost bumped his head as he looked up from the cabinet he’d been going through. “That’s okay.”

She nodded and then went into the cafeteria, presumably to search.

Jared was on his fifth cabinet when he heard the giggles.

He followed the noise to the cafeteria and stopped. In the middle of the lunchroom tables stood Maggie and the two children, all of them looking at the ceiling. In her hand, she held Caleb’s lunch box. Jared could see the peanut butter smeared all over it.

Finally, Maggie hunched down and shook her head. “Caleb, it would take a lot more peanut butter to make it stick.”

“I wondered about that,” Caleb admitted.

“I can go find some peanut butter,” Cassidy offered.

Maggie simply shook her head again, smiled at Jared and sashayed past him into the kitchen where she washed the offending lunch box before handing it to Jared.

For a brief moment he’d been worried she’d gone looking for peanut butter.

* * *

Maggie helped Cassidy into her coat and out the front door of Roanoke Elementary. Together they walked the mere block to Maggie’s shop Hand Me Ups.

Well, Maggie walked; Cassidy did more of a sideways hop with a scoot and jiggle follow-up.

“I don’t think it’s fair that I got in so much trouble,” Cassidy said after a moment. “I didn’t throw my lunch box at him, and we found the lunch box right where I hid it. And I only hid it so he wouldn’t throw it at me again.”