Christine Flynn - The Reluctant Heiress

It was because Jillian knew the woman to be as rational as she was reasonable that she didn’t bother to point out that the mob scene of reporters and paparazzi in the schoolyard was hardly her fault. As she entered the woman’s office with its walls of filing cabinets, diplomas, certificates and commendations, she felt certain Dr. Webster already knew that.

“Dr. Webster,” she began, coming up behind one of the visitors’ chairs facing the principal’s file-stacked desk, “I just heard about the paparazzo and the reporter.” She’d all but run to the woman’s office after making sure the hall she’d had to use was clear. “I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“I am, too, Miss Hadley.” Concern added a few more creases to the woman’s rounded face. “As chaotic as it is here, I can only imagine what the situation has been like for you at home.

“Of course, I’ve called the police,” she continued. “Coach Gunderson is looking for the reporter now and will ask him to leave the building or face arrest. Roland said he thinks he can identify the man he chased out. Apparently, he has rather distinctive red hair. But even if he’s arrested for trespassing, he is only one part of the problem. I’ve had teachers tell me reporters have practically accosted them in the parking lot. I’m sure they would have been followed were we not keeping the doors so they could only be opened from the inside. As it is, three reporters came here wanting a copy of your employee file.” She gave a snort of disbelief. “As if I’m going to hand over confidential information just because someone flashes a badge identifying them as press.

“I asked them to leave,” she continued. Despite her displeasure with how easily her normally quiet little school had been invaded, she still looked most sympathetic. “Roland is checking all of the doors to see which one they came through and will lock it so no one else can get in. I’ve asked the police to arrest anyone on the property who isn’t here on official school business.”

The law didn’t allow anyone inside the school without permission. Except for special events, even parents had to be cleared by the office to access any area where students might be. It didn’t matter that the students wouldn’t be there until classes began the coming week. Rules were rules, especially where school security was concerned. Even though the kids weren’t there, the disruption to the other teachers clearly couldn’t be tolerated.

“Which brings me to why I asked you here. Please,” she said, walking around the front of her desk to lean against it, “sit down.”

Jillian would have much preferred to stand. At the request from her principal, however, she lowered herself into one of the chairs. Dr. Webster took the one beside her.

“Miss Hadley. Jillian,” she amended, personal concern slipping into her voice. “You know that it’s always been my policy not to pry into the personal life of a staff member as long as a person’s personal life didn’t call her integrity into question or affect her effectiveness as a teacher. I’m not going to pry now, either,” she assured her. “Your situation is…unique…to stay the least. I can only imagine the changes you’re dealing with right now.”

“None of which will affect my ability to teach,” Jillian insisted. “Except for that,” she said, motioning beyond the office walls, “nothing has changed.

“I hate all of this, Dr. Webster. I never dreamed anything like this would happen, and the last thing I want is all that out there. I just need time to figure out what I can say that will get them to back off.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t anything you can say. And your life has changed,” she pointed out mildly, “whether you can see that now or not.

“I understand that you need time,” she assured her. “But I don’t have time to give you. This isn’t a situation that will resolve itself anytime soon. I have four hundred students and a staff I need to think about. I have schedules that need to be maintained. First and foremost, I have an environment that I have to make sure is as secure as possible for all concerned. This building is old. It’s open and accessible to anyone who thinks his purpose is more important than ours and our rules.”

Genuine distress flashed through her eyes.

“We could address the immediate problem of security with city police on the grounds for a few days. But that’s only a temporary fix. We can’t have the students’ routine disrupted by reporters and cameras, so anything long-term would have to be with private security. Even if there was money in the budget for such an expense, that isn’t the sort of environment we want for our students.”

She kept saying “we.” That could only mean she’d already conferred with the school district’s superintendent.

“I need you to take a leave of absence,” she finally said.

For a moment, Jillian found it hard to breathe. “For how long?” she all but whispered.

“At least this school year. As I said, this situation won’t resolve itself quickly. I’ve requested interviewees to fill your position. I’m sorry, Jillian. You either take the leave or I’ll have to let you go.”

Jillian had ridden to school in the back of the gray SUV with the tinted windows that had followed her there yesterday morning. Schroeder, who epitomized the blond version of the strong, silent type, had delivered her to the main door while his equally watchful and silent colleague, Jackson, who’d followed them in his sedan, escorted her inside. Behind them had trailed the swarm of paparazzi who’d lined her sidewalk to snap pictures of her as she’d ducked into the SUV.

Now that same caravan along with an assortment of vehicles belonging to the reporters and paparazzi who’d been waiting at the school jockeyed for position behind Schroeder as he drove the SUV from the parking lot.

Jillian wasn’t with him. She sat in the backseat of the car being driven by the stalwart Jackson, feeling a little sick and lot angry while she waited for Ben to answer his cell phone. With everyone scrambling to follow the vehicle they’d seen her arrive in, they paid little attention to the dark sedan taking the driveway behind the Dumpsters.

“Schroeder will lead them around long enough for me to get you safely inside your home, Miss Hadley. I’ll have you there in five minutes.”

She thanked the man she’d yet to see crack a smile. Not that she felt anywhere near like smiling herself. As upset as she was, she didn’t even bother to marvel at how effortlessly the two men had coordinated her escape. All she cared about was that Ben had just answered.

“I was just put on leave,” she said without greeting, “because I’m William Kendrick’s daughter. My principal doesn’t think the public’s interest in me is going to die down anytime soon so she’s replacing me. She said my presence is a disruption and a security risk to the students because of all the press and paparazzi, and the school district can’t allow the chaos my situation is already causing. Do you have any idea how incredibly unfair and just plain wrong it is that I am now without a job because that man happens to be my father?”

“Jillian. Calm down. What happened?”

“I don’t want to calm down.” The very request offended her. “And I just told you what happened. If it weren’t for William, there wouldn’t have been reporters all over the school or a paparazzo lying in wait in the girls’ restroom. I don’t know if the creep was just hiding in there or planning to get a picture of me when I walked in, but teachers don’t even use the students’ restrooms. We have our own in the teachers’ lounge!”

She couldn’t believe she’d just explained that. But then, she couldn’t believe she didn’t have her job anymore, either.