“Thanks! I hope it helps.” A weight lifted from his shoulders. “I didn’t know what to say when the coach asked me what college team I’d played on. It was like he knew I never attended one.”
“You shut him right down. I’m curious. What did you say to him at the end?”
“I asked him if he wanted to grab a beer sometime.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, it’s like they say: Keep your women smiling and your enemies drunk.”
“No one says that.”
“I do.”
Bradford threw back his head and laughed. “The world would be a better place if everyone saw it the way you do.”
“Truth.” Connor turned to open the door of his car, then stopped. “Angelina was trying to hard-sell the school to me because of my affiliation with the Barringtons.”
“So, she was doing her job.”
“Yeah. And she might not want to fuck me.” Not everyone got his sense of humor, but Bradford did.
He shook his head but was fighting back a smile.
Connor slid into his car then opened his window to say, “No, hang on, she doesn’t want to fuck you. Today I wasn’t me. Had I been, she’d be calling in sick for the afternoon . . . possibly tomorrow morning as well.”
“Goodbye, Connor. I’ll tell you if I discover anything useful.”
“Thanks for today, Bradford. It meant a lot to me that you came.”
Bradford didn’t answer, but Connor hadn’t expected him to. Everyone had issues left over from childhood—Bradford more than most.
Flashing a thumbs-up at Bradford, Connor peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the driveway.
Angelina reluctantly made her way back to her office. It was tempting to flog herself over every misstep she’d taken that day, but Aunt Rudi had taught her to focus on the wins instead. The drama students would go home and rave about Connor Sutton’s visit. Things like that often brought the school spontaneous financial gifts. So the day wasn’t a complete wash.
The soccer team had heard a speech about responsibility toward each other. Would it make a difference? She wanted to think so. There had been a sincerity to it that had made it ring true for her as well.
She’d probably never see Connor again and that was for the best. What had Mr. Svete said about him? “He’s the type many women lose their heads around.” She could see that. Was it his size? His perfectly rugged features? He’d definitely been born with more than his fair share of good looks.
And he wasn’t a complete asshole.
No more than I am, anyway.
As Angelina was about to step into her office, she heard Mr. Svete raise his voice. “No you can’t leave early. And don’t bring me a note from your doctor and think it will change anything. I have been more than patient with you, but I could have someone do twice the work you do for half the price. Tired? We’re all tired.”
“I didn’t say I was tired,” Mrs. Tellier said in a much lower tone that had Angelina stepping closer to hear better. “I said the office called with test results they thought I should hear immediately. It might be nothing, but when you’re my age and the doctor says it’s important . . . you go.”
“Last week it was a family issue that couldn’t wait. This week it’s the doctor. If you want to stay employed here, Mrs. Tellier, my suggestion is you schedule your emergencies for after four p.m.”
“I’ll see if I can get a later appointment,” Mrs. Tellier said, her voice cracking with emotion.
“Please contain yourself. It’s not a mystery why women don’t make it far in business. Especially not one your age.”
Unable to stand another moment of it, Angelina stepped into Mrs. Tellier’s office. “Is everything okay?”
Mrs. Tellier reached for a tissue and nodded without looking up from her desk.
“Do you need something, Miss Kroll?” Mr. Svete snapped.
Angelina looked from him to Mrs. Tellier and back. Connor Sutton’s speech echoed through her thoughts. Why does a person remain quiet in the face of what they know is wrong? Is it possible all Mr. Svete needs is to be reminded how to behave? “It’s been a stressful day for everyone. I’m sure when you have time to stand back and look over all Mrs. Tellier does for the school you’ll see that it far outweighs a request or two to leave early.”
Mr. Svete rose to his full height and a flush reddened his cheeks. “Is that all?”
“No.” Angelina squared her shoulders. “Kindness and civility are things we can only teach our students by modeling them. It’s not okay to speak to any woman the way you just spoke to Mrs. Tellier. It’s not okay to use your position of power to intimidate those around you. We all want this school to succeed, but we also all deserve to be treated with respect.”
A sneer twisted Mr. Svete’s mouth. “A bit full of yourself today, aren’t you?”
“Not at all. I just believe if we are entrusted to shape the minds of the next generation, we need to hold ourselves to a higher standard.”
“If you’re not happy with the way things are at Reemsly, Miss Kroll, maybe it’s time you resign your position.”
Mrs. Tellier rose to her feet and rushed to say, “Oh, I’m sure that’s not what she’s saying.”
He turned and glared at the older woman.
While his attention wasn’t on her, Angelina shook her head and motioned for Mrs. Tellier to sit back down. She mouthed, Remember your granddaughter. I’ve got this.
Angelina cleared her throat. “I have no intention of resigning.”
“Then let me make this easier for you. You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire her for having an opinion,” Mrs. Tellier said.
“Say another word, Mrs. Tellier, and you’ll have all your afternoons free. All your mornings as well,” Mr. Svete said in an ugly tone.
Mrs. Tellier’s eyes filled with tears that she blinked back, but she sat back down. A much younger Angelina would have right-hook-punched the smug expression right off the headmaster’s face. She wasn’t that person anymore, and she refused to become that person again. “There is a standard of behavior that even you are held to, Mr. Svete. Fire me for no reason, and you’ll have quite a legal fight on your hands.”
The look he gave her was pure evil. The kind of look that makes a person want to clutch their children and their purse closer to them. He leaned down and pressed a button on Mrs. Tellier’s phone. “Mrs. Quinn, call Whitney Kroll to the main office. He’ll be leaving early today. And prepare his school records. I was just informed that his mother will be transferring him to a public school.”
Angelina hadn’t felt such cold fury since Whitney’s father had eagerly signed off his parental rights. She went nose to nose with the stork of a man. “Don’t involve my child in this.”
There it was—that look that made the hair on the back of Angelina’s neck stand on end. “I’ll give you a choice. Go quietly and we’re done, or see if any good school will consider your son when I’m done explaining why we had to ask him to leave.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Watch me.” He leaned closer and Angelina hated that she took a step back.