Four Little Problems

Bemused, Emily sank into the cushy leather passenger seat as Patrick settled himself in the driver’s seat.

“Nice,” she said.

“It’s from my other life. Before teaching, when I made a living wage.”

Glancing around the luxurious interior, Emily said, “I have the feeling you and I have very different ideas of what a living wage is.”

He laughed, backing the car out of the space. “It was nice while it lasted. The money, that is.”

“What did you do?”

“I was a chemist with Porter Chemical.”

“I imagine that was interesting.”

“No, you don’t.”

Emily was taken aback for a second. Then she chuckled. “You’re right. It sounds pretty boring to me. But I imagine it’s interesting to the serious, scientific types.”

“Is that how I strike you?” He sounded pleased.

“Yes.”

“There are worse things than being serious.”

“But there’s such a thing as being too serious.”

He glanced at her before pulling out onto Cedar. “It’s a balance I guess I haven’t achieved.”

“Why’d you decide to stay on at the school permanently?”

He shrugged. “It fit. You ever have an experience like that, where things just seemed right?”

“Yeah, both of my marriages.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

“You’ve been married twice?”

Nodding, she said, “And each time I thought it was forever.”

A few minutes later, Patrick parked the SUV in front of a ranch-style home with an immaculate front yard. He let the motor idle.

Turning to her, his gaze was solemn. “You’re very real, Emily. You don’t play games. I admire that in a person.”

This side of him rattled her. He’d said he admired her, loudmouthed Emily, mother of Jason-who-sets-mouse-traps-in-teachers’-desks.

Thanking him seemed over the top, so she opted for a smile of gratitude.

“Let’s go.” He reached into the backseat to retrieve his backpack, which brought him entirely too close.

Emily opened the door and stepped out before he got the idea he needed to open the door for her. Or an even weirder idea, like kissing her.

And, yet, she was disappointed when she was no longer cocooned in the car with him. It was as if they’d been in an alternate reality, where they could talk like any other two people.

He cupped her elbow as they walked to the front door. “You mind doing the talking?”

“Since I’m the trustworthy one, I guess I’d better.”

He chuckled, the sound coming entirely too close for comfort in the dark. “See, you say what you’re thinking.”

“That’s not always a good thing.”

“Probably not. But at least a guy knows where he stands with you.”

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but closed it. Instead, she knocked on the Bigelows’ door.

A blond girl who looked to be about nine opened the door.

“Hi, honey, is your father home?” Emily asked.

The girl nodded and disappeared, leaving the door ajar.

At Emily’s house, one of her kids would have simply bellowed her name from the doorway. She wondered if this was how well-mannered children answered the door.

A man came to the door. Tall, blond and muscular, he looked just like Emily expected—high school home-coming court royalty, only aged fifteen years.

“May I help you?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Mr. Bigelow. I’m Emily Patterson and I’ve taken over as PTO president at Elmwood. And this is Patrick Stevens, PTO adviser.” It wasn’t a lie, really. He’d given her quite a bit of advice in the past couple days. “Please accept our condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you.”

When they didn’t move to leave, Mr. Bigelow frowned. “What can I do for you? I already gave Tiffany’s files to Mrs. Ross.”

“I know and I’m so sorry to intrude at a time like this. But I need to look at the PTO notes Tiffany kept on her PC. They’re probably more complete than the file I was given.”

“Now’s not a good time. My daughters and I were on our way out.”

Patrick stepped forward. “We can copy the files onto a disk. It’ll only take a moment.”

“Come to think of it, Tiffany might have it on disk already. Let me check.” He didn’t invite them in, simply shut the door with the promise of returning in a minute.

Emily looked at Patrick.

He shrugged.

They waited what seemed more like five hours, but was probably about five minutes.

“Yep, here it is.” Bigelow leaned out the door and handed Emily a floppy disk. “Marked PTO. You can have it. Hope it helps. Bye.”