Terry McLaughlin - The Rancher Needs A Wife

Maggie squeezed her back and promised to call soon to make a date for another girls’ night out.

When she turned, intending to invite Wayne to join her for another drink, she discovered he’d disappeared without a word.

Since it was Wayne, she should have expected it.

What surprised her was the quick, hot slap of disappointment.

CHAPTER FIVE

THEA GASTINEAU, the icy-gray and ramrod-stiff principal of Tucker High School, straightened her glasses on her thin nose and studied Maggie across the faculty room table during Monday’s lunch break. Maggie met her gaze with her most confident smile.

Thea tapped a clawlike finger on the proposal Maggie had slipped into her office mailbox that morning. “You’re sure you want to do this.”

“Absolutely sure.”

“A theatrical production of the sort you have in mind is going to take a lot of work. Especially on the tight schedule you’ve planned.”

“I have plenty of experience with extracurricular projects. I know what I’m getting into. And there are several reasons for choosing an early performance date.”

“Yes,” said Thea. “I can see that it would be good to have a project like this in motion before the next board meeting.”

Maggie’s smile widened. “That’s one of the reasons.”

“It’s going to be expensive.”

Maggie pulled one of her mother’s molasses cookies from a brown lunch sack. “I’ve developed quite a talent for soliciting community business donations.”

“This isn’t Chicago.” Thea set aside the proposal and picked up her plastic fork. “Folks here don’t have as much money to spare.”

“And because this isn’t Chicago, they’re going to be more generous with what they’ve got.”

The principal poked at a piece of limp salad lettuce in a small plastic container. “Tucker hasn’t been your community for a number of years.”

Thea’s matter-of-fact tone soothed the sting of her words. And Maggie was finished with feeling defensive about her long absence from her hometown. “This project will provide me with an excellent opportunity to get involved again.”

Thea glanced up. “You sound very certain of yourself.”

“I was hoping I sounded convincing.”

“That, too.” Thea pressed her thin, colorless lips together in a slight frown. “What is it you hope to gain from your time here at Tucker High, Maggie?”

“Besides a few paychecks?” Maggie broke off a bite-size piece of the cookie. “Precisely that—time. Time to decide what to do next. Where to go.”

“There’s no secret agenda here? No ulterior motives?”

“I’m planning a theater revue, Thea,” Maggie said with a reassuring smile, “not a coup.”

“It might be seen as one and the same.”

“And by some of the same members of the community I’m hoping to tap for donations and assistance.” Maggie washed the cookie down with a sip of milk. “It’s going to be quite a challenge. One I’m looking forward to.”

“At least you’re aware of the complications.” Thea finished her salad and reached for the container’s lid. “I see you’ve thought things through.”

“I always think things through. I like to know what I’m getting into before I take the first step.” Maggie brushed a few stray cookie crumbs from her slim black wool skirt. “Things may not always work out quite the way I’d planned, but at least I’m prepared to deal with any problems that might arise.”

“I appreciate the fact that you’ve already outlined several you may encounter.” Thea glanced again at Maggie’s preliminary paperwork. “And I don’t think those problems would have any negative impacts.”

“So…do I have your permission to proceed with my plans?”

“Yes, you have my permission.” Thea swept the papers into the folder Maggie had provided and set it aside. “But give me until the end of the week to get back to you on the budget items.”

“All right. And thank you.”

Maggie helped herself to another cookie and offered the last one to the principal. “What I’d really like, Thea, in addition to your permission, is your blessing.”

Thea lifted one thin, grey brow above the rim of her glasses as she accepted the cookie. “Wouldn’t they be one and the same?”

“Not necessarily.”

There was a long pause as Thea studied her again. Maggie tried not to squirm beneath that cool, assessing gaze.

“No, they wouldn’t be the same thing,” Thea said.

Maggie folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. “I’d like to secure as much faculty support as possible, or at least build a consensus before I start this project. I’ll begin meeting one-on-one with the other staff members this afternoon.”

“Ah, yes. The all-important communal consensus.” Thea smiled her wintry smile. “You may go through the motions of doing things the way we do them here—the way you must have learned things are done when you lived here before—but you still manage to put your own spin on them.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” Thea slowly shook her head. “Just different.”

“It might even be a good thing.”

“It just might be.”

Maggie sensed a slight thaw in the woman across the table and tipped forward a bit more. “There is one last favor you could do for me.”

“Oh?”

“There’s a small part in one of the skits you’d be perfect for.”

“Really.” Thea’s eyes sharpened on hers. “How small?”

Maggie sat back with a laugh. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

“Yes,” said Thea with a slightly wider smile, “I think it will.”

JODY SQUEEZED INTO her usual spot beside her best friend, Chrissy Fowler, at the sixth grade girls’ lunch table. Down at the other end, one of their classmates gave her a nasty stare and made a show of whispering something to another girl.

“Don’t let that stupid ol’ Rachel Dotson get to you,” said Chrissy. “She’s just jealous. I think your new jacket is beautiful.”

“I didn’t pick it out, Fitz did,” said Jody for the third time that day. “And I didn’t want to say ‘no thank you’ and hurt his feelings.”

She smoothed a hand over the brightly colored nylon of her expensive ski parka, secretly delighted to have something so special. Most of the time she forgot her new stepfather was a movie star and a millionaire. He was simply Fitz, the fun and affectionate guy who’d married her mom. That was one of the reasons she loved him so much—he had a way of making everyone around him feel happy and included. Not because he could buy her things like the portable video player she kept in her room or the delicate, diamond-studded chain hidden beneath her sweater.

She laid her lunch bag on its side and pulled out her ham-and-Swiss-cheese sandwich, thick with extra lettuce, drizzled with wine vinegar and sprinkled with oregano, exactly the way she liked it. Gran’s fussy touches reminded her how lucky she was and helped erase the lingering unease of Rachel’s whispers.

“What kind of cookies did your gran give you today?” Chrissy leaned over the lunch table and peered into Jody’s bag.

“Molasses.” She spread a napkin over the table and set an apple to one side.

“The ones with the sugar glaze?” Chrissy grabbed the edge of the sack and dragged it a few inches in her direction. “Do you have any extras?”

“Enough to give you one, but that’s all.” Jody fingered her jacket’s zipper tag and darted a glance toward the seventh grade boys’ table. “I want to set a couple aside. For later.”

“For Lu-cas.” Chrissy tilted her head from side to side with her singsong chant. “Lu-cas Gu-thrie.”

“Shh.” Jody snuck a peek down the length of the table, but Rachel was busy sticking her big nose into someone else’s business. “I don’t want anyone else to know I like him.”