A Time To Forgive

Abby vowed in that instant to do whatever possible to gain permission for the girl to attend the field trip, even if she disliked what it would entail. “Would you like me to talk to your father, Jaye?”

Jaye Smith smiled, the misery on her face turning to hope. “Oh, yes, Miss Reed. I’d like that very much.”

CONNOR SMITH WAS NOT HAVING a good day.

It had started off on a sour note when Jaye had “accidentally” dumped his potted amaryllis onto the cream-colored carpet in his living room, throwing their uneasy morning routine so out of whack that she’d missed the bus.

He’d gotten snarled in traffic on the way to Blue Moon Elementary, causing him to deposit the silent-as-a-stone Jaye to school after the bell had rung. Then somebody had rear-ended his Porsche on the way to the office. And now one of his clients was talking nonsense.

“I think we should dump it, Connor.” The panicked, masculine voice belonged to a bank president who had trusted Connor with his investments for the past three years. “I checked the paper this morning and the price of a share is down eight cents.”

Connor leaned his head on the backrest of his office chair and stared at the white ceiling. He usually had more patience with Daniel Mann, who called every time the market fluctuated. This time he was panicking about an emerging pharmaceutical company in which he’d invested.

“Remember how I told you that checking the markets is my job, Daniel? The fluctuations can drive you crazy if you let them. But trust me on this. If the FDA approves the drug the company’s developed, the stock will go way up. Sit tight and wait to see what happens.”

By the time Connor ended the connection ten minutes later, Daniel Mann had heeded his advice. But then most of his clients did, as well they should. Connor had made impressive amounts of money for himself and his clients since he’d passed the stockbroker exams and joined the Capital Company six years ago.

Connor glanced up at the flat-screen television in his office that was tuned to the financial news network, satisfied himself on the status quo and reached for another client portfolio. If he was going to get off work by six so he could spend time with Jaye, he needed to cram as much into the day as possible.

Before he could open the folder and dial the number listed inside, his secretary’s smooth, professional voice came over the intercom.

“Ms. Abby Reed is here to see you, Mr. Smith.”

The name was naggingly familiar, but Connor couldn’t place it. He glanced down at the list of appointments scheduled for that day, but didn’t find an Abby Reed. Had his usually efficient secretary added an appointment she hadn’t told him about?

He pressed down on the intercom button. “Does she have an appointment, Mary Beth?”

“She says she’s here about Jaye.”

Connor grimaced, although he wasn’t surprised. In the five rocky weeks Jaye had lived with him, every day brought a new problem. He depressed the intercom button. “What was her name again?”

“My name’s Abby Reed.” The voice that traveled over the intercom and filled his office had a low, sultry quality even though it was heavily laced with annoyance. “I’m Jaye’s strings teacher. And I’m not leaving until you see me.”

Of course. Abby Reed was the Ms. Reed who had been leaving messages at his office and home, trying to get him to reconsider his refusal to allow Jaye to attend a field trip. He’d neither the time nor inclination to call her back because he had no intention of changing his mind.

But what was she doing here? The Silver Spring office of the Capital Company was only a mile from Blue Moon Elementary, but he’d never known a teacher to make office calls.

Jaye’s reign of terror on the fourth grade must have taken a turn for the worse.

“I can vouch that she’s serious when she says she’s not leaving until you see her,” his secretary added.

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose. He really did not have time for this, but he couldn’t send the child’s teacher packing.

“Send her in,” he said and took off his headset.

The door flew open, and a slender, dark-haired woman marched to his desk with a determined stride. Her hair was cut so short it fell shy of her collar, giving her face a gamine quality and making her resemble the young Audrey Hepburn in the old movies he liked to watch. Her lips were unpainted, her makeup minimal and brown eyes angry.

He wasn’t a stupid man. Recognizing the signs of an imminent verbal eruption, he took the offensive. “I don’t intend to make excuses for Jaye, Ms. Reed. So just tell me what she’s done now.”

She recoiled. “Excuse me?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s Jaye done? Gone on musical strike? Bashed in an instrument? Bloodied a classmate’s nose?”

“What makes you think she’s done any of those things?”

“She’s no angel,” Connor said, wondering at the narrowing of her eyes. “And you wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t done something wrong.”

She placed her palms flat on his desk and leaned forward. She couldn’t have been much older than twenty-four or twenty-five, but projected an air of authority a senior statesman would envy. “The reason I’m here, Mr. Smith, is that you haven’t returned my calls.”

He quickly rationalized away his flash of guilt. She’d clearly stated the unsigned permission slip as her reason for calling.

“If you had phoned me about a problem with Jaye instead of about a field trip, I would have called back,” he said.

Her lips thinned and her low voice grew even lower. “The problem I’m having isn’t with Jaye. It’s with you.”

“Excuse me?”

She removed a sheet of paper from her handbag, unfolded it and slapped it down on his desk. He picked it up, recognizing it as the permission form he’d refused to sign. Somebody had forged his signature with a childish scrawl.

“Son of a bitch,” he said, then raised his eyes to where Abby Reed leaned over his desk. “So how much trouble is Jaye in?”

“You haven’t been listening, Mr. Smith,” she all but hissed. “You’re the one I’m having trouble with.”

“I didn’t forge a signature.”

“Jaye wouldn’t have felt the need to forge one either if you’d signed the form in the first place.”

“So you’re not here about the forgery?”

“I’m here to make you understand how badly Jaye wants to go on the field trip. She’s the only student in the class who doesn’t have permission.”

Connor blinked. Was Abby Reed for real? Had she actually stormed his office because he had the sense to realize his niece didn’t deserve to go on a field trip?

“You must know how disruptive Jaye has been since she started school this year,” he said slowly. “Who knows how she’d act on a field trip. She’s not what you’d call well-behaved.”

She straightened from the desk and placed her hands on her hips. She was dressed the way a teacher should dress, in a modest-length dark skirt and nondescript blouse, but he still noticed her gentle curves. Her voice wasn’t gentle. “Then you chaperone the trip and make sure she acts the way she’s supposed to.”

Connor blew out a breath. “Why would I reward her with a field trip? She’s flunking almost all her classes.”

“It’s hard to move to a new school in the middle of the year. And she’s not flunking strings.” Abby Reed seemed to stand up even straighter. Still, she wasn’t very tall. Five foot four tops, he guessed. “She’s one of the best students in the class.”

Connor wasn’t nearly as surprised as he’d been when Jaye had asked if he’d rent her a violin so she could take the strings class. He knew his niece practiced because he’d heard muffled musical sounds from behind the closed door in her bedroom. So far, she refused to play for him.

“I’m pleased to hear she’s doing well, but I still won’t sign the permission slip.”

She released a short, harsh breath. She seemed to be making an effort to hold on to her temper. She failed. “You are a piece of work.”

“Excuse me?”