“You even made parent responsibility a lesson. Lighten up.”
“Wait till you have children. You’ll be doing the same thing. Everything from washing clothes to cooking meals, because sending them out into the real world with no knowledge and no skills is a crime. Equipping them with what they’ll need is a parent’s job.”
“Enough already.” Cori shook her head. “Just so you know, Mrs. Thomas wasn’t at school today,” Cori said. Carol Johnson taught at both of the middle schools in town.
Hope was taken by surprise. “How do you know that?”
“Well, after last night, you were part of the lunch talk.”
“What did the kids say?”
“They said she’s cray-cray. And they said she didn’t come to school. The kids who had gym today had a sub.”
“Did anyone know why?”
“Nope.”
Hope considered the information for a moment. That Carol Thomas had taken a day off was not a big deal, especially after her outburst of the night before. The scene was enough to make anyone hide for a day or two. Hope wished the reason was just embarrassment. Carol Thomas didn’t deserve anything more.
“Do me a favor?” Hope asked.
“What?”
“Tomorrow, find out if there’s a substitute in for Mrs. Thomas again?”
“Sure. Everyone will know. Subs are fun sometimes.”
Hope had a good idea what kind of “fun” the kids had with subs. Sometimes, it wasn’t pretty.
As Hope pulled into the driveway, she noticed a package on the front porch.
“What’s that?” Cori asked.
“I don’t know,” Hope answered. “I’m not expecting anything.”
“Can I open it? Even if it’s addressed to you?”
“Sure.”
“Cool.”
Cori brought the package to the kitchen, where Hope was busy starting dinner.
“It is for you,” Cori said as she opened the box.
Hope heard the disappointment in Cori’s voice. Hope reminded herself that packages were big deals for kids. Anything new was an event.
“What is it?” Hope asked.
“A gift, an elf.”
“What? Is there a card?”
“Yeah. It says ‘sorry’ and it’s from Mrs. Thomas.”
Hope walked to the table and picked up the small porcelain elf, a rather maudlin little elf with a tiny smile. The glaze on the porcelain was cracked, old, hardly the sort of gift one might expect. She guessed it would look good on the mantle, by the stockings. Then, she looked at the card, the single word. She supposed that was the best she could hope for—sorry. At least, it was acknowledgement that Carol had been in the wrong. That was good. Of course, Hope wondered if the gesture had been orchestrated by Wanda Basset. That would make sense. Wanda didn’t want some kind of feud between two teachers.
“If you don’t want it, can I have it?” Cori asked.
“Sure,” Hope said. “For your room?”
“Yeah.”
So much for the mantle, Hope thought, as Cori grabbed the elf and headed for her room.
“Don’t forget Myrtle Beach,” Hope called.
“Got it.”
After starting dinner, Hope picked up the card.
“C. Thomas”
A shudder ran over Hope’s skin. For the first time, she wondered if the elf could have come from Clive and not Carol. She stared, trying to figure out the little mystery. Which one had more to be sorry for? Which one might wish to keep on her good side?
Clive or Carol?
If she had some other writing to compare it with, she might have been able to figure out who had written the note. But she didn’t, and she told herself she was silly for even wanting to try.
She wanted nothing to do with either Clive or Carol. She tossed the card on the counter, wondering if she needed to send a thank you note. She would have to ponder that for a while. A note might be in order, acknowledging the peace offering. But then, what if she sent it to the wrong “C. Thomas”? That wouldn’t do at all.
After changing to more comfortable clothes, Hope climbed to her attic office, where she read her email. She was halfway through the list when she heard the familiar voice.
“Hello, Mrs. Herring.”
“Hello, Max,” she said, turning. “How are you?”
“Forgive my snooping, but what is Clive Thomas sorry for?”
“Not Clive. Carol Thomas. I think. We had that run-in last night at school, and I think the gift was from her.”
“Are you certain?”
“It makes sense. A peace offering.”
“If that’s so, why did Clive deliver it?”
“Clive?” Hope’s jaw dropped slightly.
“I think it was Clive. It was a man, not a woman who delivered the package.”
“Carol Thomas can probably pass for a man,” Hope said. “I mean, she has that kind of body and demeanor.”
“But does she have a goatee?”
Hope eyes widened. “The deliverer had facial hair?”
“And it wasn’t a delivery truck,” Max added. “I know the UPS and FedEx trucks.”
“That’s interesting. I mean, it’s possible that Clive might have delivered the gift, but Carol might have sent it.”
“Would Clive have a reason to send a gift?” Max tilted his head to the side.
“No, not that I’m aware of.”
“Then, you’re probably right. Clive was just the delivery boy.”
“In any case, Max, thank you for keeping watch.”
“I was prepared to repel all robbers,” he said proudly.
“I know, and it means a lot to me. By the way, I talked to the principal this morning. Wanda Basset is descended from another family on your list, the Elisons. She has some old journals that have been passed down from generation to generation. She offered them to me to read.”
Max’s face lit up. “Marvelous. Can you bring them here? May I read them?”
Hope nodded. “If I can get her to part with them, I’ll bring them to you. You can study them for the clues you need.”
“I pray they will enlighten me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“Don’t thank me yet. They’re not here.”
Max smiled, as happy as she had seen him in a long while.
“Mom,” Cori yelled up the stairs. “Someone’s here to see you.”
7
Hope found Carol Thomas waiting in the living room. Surprise must have been written on her face, because Carol immediately spoke.
“Yeah, I didn’t expect to be doing this either,” she said. “But our principal made it clear that I needed to make amends. So, I’m here to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have caused a scene at the concert.”
Hope could tell that the woman was having difficulty with the apology. Carol Thomas didn’t appear to be the sort that said “sorry” very often. That she was bigger than Hope made the apology a bit dodgy. Carol’s voice and manner were more dominating than anything else. Loud, as if talking to a bunch of kids in gym uniforms, her featureless face without a smile, Carol brushed back her short hair that had no chance of getting into her eyes.