Beth Andrews - Caught Up in You

“I’m stating a fact.” She chewed on the inside of her lip. “Maybe I should have told him that. Then he could have realized what a mistake it would be for him to take Max away from me.”

“I’d like to make sure I have this straight.” Joan steepled her fingers under her chin, her reading glasses on top of her graying blond curls. “Mr. Montesano is reluctant to discuss the possible reasons behind Max’s struggles in school and became defensive when you stated your opinions.”

“Very defensive. And then he got offensive.”

Joan hummed in a way that made Harper feel as if she was being analyzed. Which, let’s be honest, she completely was. “And how did that make you feel?”

Harper’s lips twitched. “Please. I’m trying to keep a good mad going here.”

“And you’re doing an admirable job. But it might be better for your stress levels if you collect your thoughts and think of a solution to the problem.”

“I’d rather stay mad,” she grumbled.

“But mad doesn’t solve anything.”

True. She sighed. Stared at the framed photos on Joan’s desk—one of Harper and Beau on their wedding day, another of Beau holding their daughter, Cassidy, on his birthday last year.

Ten days later, Beau was gone.

“Eddie accused me of not doing my job.”

“Ah...”

“Oh, no. No.”

“What?”

“I know what you’re up to with that ah. You think you’ve got it all figured out, that there’s some deep-seated issue here causing me to be so upset. Probably something to do with my dog running away when I was four or my not getting enough love as a child.”

“Your parents adore you.”

“Exactly.” And, being an only child, she didn’t have to share that adoration with anyone else. “So there’s nothing to ah about here.”

“Hmm...”

With a groan, Harper flopped into the chair. “That’s even worse.”

“Seems to me,” Joan said in the same slow, thoughtful tone she employed when speaking with students, “the problem isn’t Mr. Montesano’s reaction—or at least, not only his reaction. It’s your reaction to that reaction.”

“He started it.”

Joan smiled. “Surprisingly, that’s not the first time I’ve heard those words uttered from someone sitting in that chair.”

Considering Joan’s usual clients were the under-twelve set, Harper wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or amused. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have let him get me so upset.”

“Have you considered the reason why you reacted the way you did?”

“I’m going to blame it on my never getting over Sparky running away and leave it at that.”

Unfortunately, Joan never left anything alone. Tenaciousness must have come with her Ph.D. “You’ve dealt with numerous parents on matters both big and small throughout the years without letting them upset you. It seems to me, the difference this time isn’t that Mr. Montesano was resistant to your help, but that he bruised your pride.”

Though the words were said gently, without reprimand or judgment, Harper flinched. “You think this is about my ego?”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s annoying the way you answer a question with another question.”

Joan simply waited. As if she knew it was only a matter of time before Harper broke. She was right.

About everything.

Harper slouched farther into her seat, wished she could disappear into the fabric. “Maybe he poked at my pride a little.” Staring at her left hand, she slid her engagement ring and wedding band up and down her finger. Up and down. “What do I do now?”

“I think the best way to proceed is to give Mr. Montesano time to process your discussion, your concerns. After report cards are sent out next month, call him in for another meeting. Sam and I can sit in on it if you’d like.”

Harper wondered if that last bit was a reprimand for skirting the rules and meeting with Eddie on her own. “That would probably be for the best. Thanks.”

Having Joan and the principal there might be enough to persuade Eddie that she knew what she was talking about. Or it could get her in a boatload of trouble if she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

Like today.

Her mouth. From the time she’d said her first word at eight months old it’d been getting her into trouble.

She pressed her fingertips against her temples. She’d snapped at Eddie, had told him not to shrug at her again. Her stomach got queasy, embarrassment coated her throat. He had every right to complain about her to her superiors.

She wrinkled her nose. Maybe not every right. He had been incredibly stubborn and unreasonable. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t complain about their little meeting. She may as well have handed him the phone numbers of the principal, superintendent and president of the school board, and told him to have at it asking for her resignation. Or, more realistically, asking Max to be moved to another class.

Worse, instead of getting him to see he was hurting Max by ignoring her suggestions, she’d pushed him into digging in his heels even deeper.

She’d messed up. Royally. Now she had to make it right. Tonight she’d write up some ideas for strategies she could implement in her class, ways to help Max focus and succeed.

After all, she didn’t need to meet with Eddie or get his permission to try different teaching methods. To do what was best for one of the students in her class. He wasn’t the damn boss of her.

Joan shut off her computer and got her purse from the desk drawer. “Would you and Cass like to come for dinner? Steve’s making chicken pot pie.”

“We’d love to, but it’s Uncle Will’s birthday so we’re eating at Aunt Irene’s.”

Since Beau died, she and Cass never had a shortage of dinner invitations. It was as though her loved ones thought if they didn’t feed her and her daughter, they’d starve.

Not that she didn’t appreciate the support. She did. Really. It was just sometimes all she wanted after a long day was to pick up Cassidy from day care, go home, put on sweatpants and play with her baby.

But she tried to make sure Cass saw Joan and Steve—Beau’s stepfather—a few times a week. It was important that her daughter have a connection to her paternal grandparents.

Keeping everyone happy—and convincing them she and Cassidy really were fine—was exhausting sometimes.

“Can we get a rain check?” she asked.

Joan came around the desk and walked with her to the door. “Of course,” she said, shutting off the lights. “How about tomorrow night?”

“That sounds great.” At least it would save her having to throw together something for dinner. “Thanks. For everything.”

“That’s what family is for. Try not to worry about Max. I’ve seen this before, parents who are reluctant to admit there’s a problem. They usually come around and I’m sure Mr. Montesano will be no different.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Even if she wasn’t, it didn’t matter. Because Harper wasn’t about to let Eddie take Max away from her. She couldn’t. Max needed her.

And to help a child she’d gladly do battle against any opponent—including grumpy, taciturn Eddie Montesano.

CHAPTER THREE

WITH MAROON 5’S “Payphone” playing over the radio in Bradford House’s kitchen, Eddie crouched in front of the rough plumbing for the sink. He measured the distance from the floor to the hot water pipe, wrote the figure on a piece of scrap paper and repeated the action with the cold water pipe and drain. Then he measured them all again.

Measure twice, cut once. Good advice that had been drilled into his head since he started working for his father at the age of fifteen. Advice he heeded on the job literally—and in life figuratively.