Four Little Problems. Carrie Weaver
acquired a sense of humor about the mousetrap incident?
She was afraid to ask.
Shaking her head, Emily forced her thoughts to the practical. This was her opportunity to show everyone she was more than a brash woman who couldn’t control her kids. “I’m glad you suggested meeting. I’ve read Tiffany’s notes backward and forward and I can’t seem to make sense of them. I thought maybe you’d have more luck.”
He handed her a water and removed the cap from his own. “Sorry, didn’t realize you’d already ordered. You can save it for later. It’s important to stay hydrated.”
Ah. This was the Patrick Stevens she remembered. She sincerely doubted he’d acquired a sense of humor about anything.
“Yes. Thank you.”
She slid the file folder across the table. “See what you think.”
He opened the folder. Flipping through the pages, he frowned. “Most of this looks like doodling.” Turning the file sideways, he said. “And this looks like it might be her grocery list.”
“That’s what I thought. Kinda weird, because Tiffany always seemed to be taking notes with her PDA. I figured she was so anal, everything would be prioritized and printed up.”
“She did seem very organized. And you’re right, there’s nothing in here about the Florida field trip. Are you sure this was all you were given?”
“Of course I’m sure.” Did he think she was so scatterbrained, she might have misplaced a whole sheaf of papers containing Tiffany Bigelow’s rounded script?
Two could play at that game. “Didn’t you keep any notes?”
“Yes, they’re in my backpack somewhere.” He shoved a piece of cookie in his mouth, wiped his hands on a napkin and rummaged through his pack.
He reminded Emily of a chipmunk. But his hazel eyes were too serious for such a mischievous creature. He might be cute, if he’d lighten up.
“Here it is.” He triumphantly produced a wire-bound pad of paper, suitable for taking notes in class.
He paged through until he found the appropriate section.
Sliding it across the table, he pointed to a row of figures.
“Those are the projected costs, minus the monies we’ve brought in through various fund-raising projects of our own.”
“Yes, I think I remember hearing about a car wash?” Emily had tried to block out any information pertaining to Patrick Stevens. Apparently, she’d failed. “And a bake sale?”
He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, the kids are pretty industrious once they get their hearts set on something.”
“Yes, they are.” Emily swallowed hard, then glanced away, unable to meet his earnest gaze. His obvious affection for his students stung. Why couldn’t he have been that way with Jason? It might have made a world of difference to the boy. Instead, her son had been rejected by yet another male authority figure. She’d sometimes wondered if Jason’s pranks had been a bid for attention, a clumsy way to connect with this reserved man.
Instead, Patrick Stevens had been cold and unyielding. And Emily’s heart had broken as she’d watched Jason build a wall around his emotions. Her once fun-loving, affectionate son had grown sarcastic and rude. Prepubescent hormones were one explanation. But Emily thought his attitude was probably more the result of one disappointment too many coming from a father figure.
Of course, Emily shouldn’t blame the teacher. Loving his students wasn’t in his contract. Nor trying to understand them.
“Ms. Patterson?”
Emily flushed. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“I pointed out the figure we’ll need from the PTO funds. Tiffany didn’t seem to think it would be a problem.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of money. I’ve seen the PTO budget and I can’t help but wonder why Tiffany agreed to this.”
“She mentioned having some special fund-raising project in the works for the spring that would make it possible.”
“What kind of special project?”
“That’s just it. I have no idea. She wouldn’t say. Just said it was big.”
“I’ll talk to Principal Ross. Maybe she knew about it. Something that big would need to be planned well in advance.”
“Time is critical, Ms. Patterson. The hotel and bus companies are pressing for deposits. We have enough from our own fund-raising, but I don’t want to make a nonrefundable deposit if there’s a chance the PTO won’t come through on what’s been promised. I need to know right away.”
“Mr. Stevens, obviously I can’t commit to something I know nothing about. I’ll talk to the principal, see if she knows where the rest of Tiffany’s notes might be. In the meantime, Principal Ross is putting my name on the PTO account. I can’t access the bank statements until then.”
“Can’t Ross access them?”
Emily shook her head. She was starting to get a bad feeling about this. “There was some mix-up at the bank and Principal Ross was removed as a cosigner. After the treasurer moved to Texas in November, Tiffany was the only one with access.”
Patrick cursed under his breath. He seemed to swear a lot for a dispassionate guy.
EMILY SET A STACK of paper plates in the center of the large picnic table she used for a kitchen dinette set. Nancy’s husband, Beau, was working tonight, so she and Ana were staying for dinner.
“So maybe Tiffany was playing fast and loose with the PTO funds?” Nancy’s eyes sparkled with interest as she folded paper napkins and arranged them with plastic cutlery. “I knew there was something about that woman.”
“I didn’t say that. We won’t know anything until one of us can access the account. Principal Ross said she’d go to the bank tomorrow and straighten it out.”
“But still, it’s a little strange, don’t you think? Only Tiffany’s name as signatory on the account?”
“Shh. I don’t want to start any rumors.” Emily nodded meaningfully toward the family room, where her two younger boys, Mark and Ryan, played hide-and-seek with Nancy’s daughter, Ana.
Jason had basketball practice and Jeremy was playing at a neighbor’s house.
Nancy sighed. “My bad. I guess I was hoping to dig up some dirt on the woman. She was just trying too hard to be perfect. And was downright mean, to boot.”
“I hope all of this turns out to be an honest mistake. The whole PTO thing is getting more complicated by the minute. Patrick Stevens is pressing me to release funds for the sixth-grade trip to Sea World.”
“You obviously need all the facts before you can do something like that. What’s his hurry?”
“He has good reason.” Emily put out a large bucket of the Colonel’s chicken, along with containers of coleslaw and baked beans. “Hotel and transportation deposits need to be made. But there’s nothing I can do.”
“This is more than you bargained for, huh?” Nancy’s voice was warm with concern.
“You don’t know the half of it. The PE teacher gave me some brochures for sports equipment. The art teacher mentioned how desperately we need art supplies. And the music instructor showed me how old and worn-out the band instruments are.”
“Sounds like a lot of pressure, Em.”
“It is. And there’s a part of me that thinks the money Tiffany supposedly promised for the Florida trip could be put to better uses.”
“It’s a tough call, no doubt about it. But if you find Tiffany’s notes and she