Stand-In Mom

“You have an assigned table?” He hadn’t realized that nor had the office mentioned it when he’d called to find out the procedure.

“It’s okay. I’ll make Harry or Ron move.”

“Shelby.” He frowned at her as they descended. “Y’all can’t kick either of those boys out of their seats.”

She gave a shrug he’d seen his wife use. Samantha had always meant “we’ll see” by it, and she usually got her way. He hadn’t realized Shelby had picked up that particular gesture, although he’d noted other gestures of Sam’s both girls had assumed. He shook his head, knowing Shelby didn’t mean to be heartless.

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “If there aren’t enough seats, you can sit on my lap.”

“Daaad.” She rolled her eyes.

That gesture he knew all too well meant You’re such a moron.

As it turned out, a cafeteria monitor found him a chair while the children made envious noises to Shelby over her meal. He thanked the woman, talking for a moment to discover she volunteered at the school twice a week for lunchtime. Scott couldn’t do that as the school lunch period stretched over two hours, but it put the idea of volunteering in his head. The principal had snagged him the day before to serve on a committee, but he wanted to spend time with Shelby. Maybe something in the classroom. He could flex the time he took lunch to match Shelby’s schedule.

Of course, volunteering in the classroom meant seeing Ginger. He doubted Ms. Winchester would welcome him with open arms.

Which led his thoughts to when she had. He cleared his throat. Not the appropriate time or place for those images.

Shelby threw out the first names of the other children by way of introduction.

“What’s a programmer do?” the boy to his left asked. Harry, Scott thought, the blond with extra large front teeth. Poor kid. Harry’s twin still sported baby teeth, but Scott figured Ron would have the same appearance with his adult incisors. Wouldn’t be a problem once the boys grew into them. He hoped the other kids didn’t tease them in the meantime.

Scott outlined his job to the boys, who hung on his explanation as though he’d invented the internet. Shelby sighed dramatically, but then to her, he was just her father, not Mr. Wizard. Having a child interested in his work made a nice change.

“Ron,” she said, “you’ve got jelly on your shirt.”

“Oh.” The boy glanced down. “Where?”

Shelby sniggered. “Made you look.”

Scott shot her an admonishing glance, although the other children laughed, including Ron and Harry. The next time he came, he’d bring lunches for everyone. Would that be a problem with their parents? Did any of the kids have food allergies? He sighed. This parenting thing was harder than he’d imagined. Sharing lunch at school had been Sam’s job. Now every duty was his by default.

Still, he thought as Shelby hugged him goodbye, there were rewards.

He watched her run out to the playground, her earlier doldrums forgotten, although she hadn’t been pleased when he declined going outside for recess with her and her friends. Kickball or jump rope in under-forty-degree temperatures held no appeal for him. One last wave, then it was past time to get to work.

As Scott turned to the office to sign out, he noticed Ginger going into her classroom again. Awfully short lunch break. This might be the time to ask about volunteering. Perhaps she had a list of needs or a sign-up sheet.

He knocked twice, then opened her door. She raised her head, looking right at home behind the teacher’s desk. A born educator.

Spotting him, Ginger masked her irritation. She should have relocked her door until it was time for the kids to come back in. Her lunch “hour” was actually forty-five minutes. Spending time with a parent shouldn’t intrude, but a phone call or visit often interrupted. “Did you have a good lunch with Shelby?”

“It was very nice. Sorry.” He gestured toward her desk where her lunch wrappings remained. “I didn’t realize y’all were still eating.”

She snapped the lid on her sandwich carrier and slipped it into her thermal bag. “I’m almost done. Do you have a question?”

“I want to volunteer. In the classroom.”

Forcing her face to remain impassive, she nodded. Her fist clenched below the desk. Hadn’t meeting him again yesterday been enough punishment for whatever crimes fate held against her?

“Do you have anything coming up I could do?” he asked. “Maybe before or after lunch?”

And give her indigestion? “Not that I can think of, but I’ll keep you in mind.”

His eyes narrowed. “Nothing? Are you sure?”

She gave him her fake smile. “Nothing that’s of short duration.

I’ll give you the numbers of the room parents planning the Valentine’s party next month.” Not that you’re good about calling when you’ve got someone’s number. She flipped open the cabinet drawer behind her and pulled out the party folder.

“Valentine’s Day? I can probably do that.” His shoulders hunched.

Would the romantic holiday be hard for him this year, being suddenly single after … however long he’d been married? So much she didn’t know about him, despite their night together.

“But I was hoping for something before then,” he said, “to help Shelby get settled here.”

“Perhaps finding her own way, without your presence, would be easier for her.” As it would be for me.

“What about Shelby’s birthday? What’s normally done? Should I try to come in that day for some kind of celebration?”

He had her there. “We usually have snacks at the end of the day, just before leaving. You can send something in the morning if you have to work.”

“Aren’t parents allowed to come in for the party?”

“Of course.” She gave a mental sigh and determined to do something kind for someone to realign her karma. “You can bring it in around two-thirty. That gives us time to sing, serve and clean up before the bell rings.”

She pulled open her desk drawer and dug out the file she needed. Extending a sheet of paper to him, she added, “Here’s the list of food allergies this year. Ron and Harry West’s mother will send in a special snack for them since they’re sensitive to so many foods. I’ll add Shelby’s birthday to the list Ms. West already has.”

He stepped closer and took the paper from her. His fingers brushed hers, causing her nerve endings to sizzle. Had he touched her on purpose?

Scott cleared his throat. “Food allergies. I’m glad I asked. I was thinking about bringing lunch for everyone at Shelby’s table sometime.”

“You’ll need to keep that with you, then. It would be best to send home a note with the boys and ask Ms. West to call you. She’s also in charge of the Valentine’s party.”

“Thanks.”

He continued to stare, but she refused to fidget. He was too close, too tempting.

“Was there something else?”

Scott’s lips firmed. “I guess not.”

He left, taking the tension with him. Ginger retrieved Shelby’s thin file, checking for her birthday. She closed her eyes. January twenty-first. Fifteen days. Not nearly enough time to prepare to see Scott again.

Curiosity conquered her better intentions, and she scanned the student information form Scott had filled out when he registered his daughter. Sole custody. No info filled in on the mother, but nothing flagged her as a potential threat, either. At least not as far as kidnapping Shelby went. The threat to Ginger was harder to gauge. Memories could be more difficult to fight than a flesh-and-blood, fallible woman.

After school, Ginger went home, glad she didn’t have papers to grade for once. She had lessons to prepare, of course, and reading to do—that was a given. Maybe after, she could stretch out in front of the fireplace with a novel for some escapism. What a luxury. Papers had to be reviewed for the upcoming evaluation reports, but those could wait another night.