That news arrived two days later when Fletcher strode into Ellie’s to join Jordan and the family for dinner on Wednesday evening.
The back table was nearly full and he was grinning as he approached. But his grin quickly died when he focused on his wife. She looked absolutely dejected.
Frowning, his first words to her were, “What happened?”
She looked up at him, and the disappointment on her face punched him in the chest. She handed him a piece of paper.
He knew what it was even before he looked down. Sure enough, the letterhead was from the foundation they’d applied to for the grant.
Dear Mrs. Landry, we are impressed with the program that you have outlined and your vision for the future. However, at this time, we regret to inform you that we must pass on your request for grant funding.
He didn’t read any further. He looked at Jordan. “Dammit,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “We knew it was a possibility.”
The thing was, Fletcher actually hadn’t thought it was a possibility. He’d honestly believed they would get this grant. Why not? Their program was amazing. It was visionary, had a positive impact not only on children but also on animals, and was great from the perspective of growing a small business. They wanted to go from being a petting zoo that sold stuffed animals and snow cones to a sanctuary for animals with physical and emotional trauma and a unique, educational site with a widespread positive impact.
Which was exactly what he’d put in their fucking application.
Son of a bitch.
They’d worked their asses off on that proposal. He’d been so proud of it. So confident. He’d reviewed and edited a grant proposal that had been awarded just last year for new computer software for the entire school. He’d helped give the presentation that had won a statewide scholarship for fine arts programs in public schools. He’d been asked to speak on behalf of the teachers in convincing the city council to spend money on improving the internet access to the school and community.
He knew how to make a big production out of convincing other people that he knew what he was doing. He was a Landry. Big ideas and too much confidence were in his blood.
But this time, it hadn’t worked.
And this time, it had mattered more than any other time.
This time it was for Jordan and Sophia.
And why was he suddenly thinking about geometric equations and parallel parking?
Because, just like those, he’d only been able to get Jordan partway toward her ultimate goal.
“Fuck them.” Fletcher tossed the letter onto the table. “I’ll give them a call tomorrow.”
Jordan looked up at him, eyebrows high. “You’ll call them?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll just…call them.”
“Yes, I’ll call them,” he repeated. “Obviously they didn’t read the proposal carefully enough. I think as an educator I can help them understand the positive impact this is going to have on kids. As an educator who has a child in his classroom, at this moment, who is benefiting from this program, I think I can add some really important perspective.”
Jordan actually laughed at that. But she was looking at him with clear disbelief. “That isn’t how this works, Fletcher. We have to apply like everyone else and give them the information they asked for. They measured us against the other applicants and clearly felt like we weren’t the best choice.”
Fletcher scowled. “Well, they’re idiots. There’s no way there were other applicants better than us. Let me call and see what I can find out.”
“Oh my God. No,” Jordan said simply. “We’ll reapply next year. Or we’ll look for another grant somewhere.”
But she didn’t sound overly optimistic about that.
“We need the money now. In fact, we needed the money a month ago,” Fletcher said. “We don’t have time to wait around for another foundation to make up their minds.”
“We don’t get to make these rules,” Jordan said. “They’re the ones with the money. They decide how it gets distributed. They ask the questions. They set the timelines. All we can do is our best.”
“Well, that obviously wasn’t good enough.” Fletcher snapped.
“And sometimes that’s how it goes,” Jordan said, frowning. “Sometimes our best isn’t good enough and we just have to be happy with knowing we did everything we could.”
“Right. Sometimes our best is only enough for a B-, right?” he asked.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she muttered.
“You finally told him about geometry?” Zeke asked.
“Shut up, Zeke,” Jordan told him.
The look she gave him actually made Zeke bite back whatever he’d been about to say. That was a damned miracle.
Fletcher shoved a hand through his hair. His emotions were swirling. Sophia had shown him how important this program really was. He hadn’t been able to help her himself, but he’d had a chance to be a part of something that could. That had made him feel better. It was indirectly helping her, but that was better than nothing.
And yeah, fuck, he hadn’t been able to get Jordan from a B- to the A- but Zeke had. At least, in the end, she’d gotten what she needed.
So what could he do about the money for this program? If his grant proposal wasn’t good enough, what other options were there? Because yes, Sophia was doing better, but what about the next kid? The one who needed even more help?
Because there would be one. Fletcher would always be the fun teacher, but he wouldn’t be the teacher with all the answers. This program had given him hope that there would still be a resource for the kids when he came up short. Maybe he didn’t have to always be the one fixing everything, but he needed to know that there was someone to turn to. He needed to at least be able to offer metaphorical Gatorade when things were tough.
“I need some air.” He turned on his heel and stomped toward the front door of Ellie’s.
He had to admit he was waiting for someone to call after him, to stop him. He was half expecting Jordan to run after him.
But as he stepped out into the summer evening, no one said a word.
He’d walked several yards before he realized that he’d headed for the alpaca pen. He stopped and looked up. The alpacas were grazing in the pasture, happily oblivious to the turmoil the humans were going through.
Fletcher propped a foot on the bottom rail of the fence and leaned on the top with his forearms. He took a deep breath.
He’d been working around these alpacas for months. He’d done several presentations for the kids over the summer that included the alpacas. Where alpacas were originally from, what they ate, how they interacted with each other, how they communicated. But in all that time he had no idea how important they would become to him. Because of Jordan. She hadn’t brought the alpacas into his life, but she’d opened his eyes to what was already there.
That seemed exactly right. His whole life she had been making the things that were already around him, already a part of his daily routine, bigger and better. Eating ice cream was more enjoyable when he did it with Jordan. Watching a television rerun that he’d already seen three times was funnier when Jordan was watching it with him. Hanging out with his family was always a good time, but it was even better when Jordan was there.