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If swooning were an option, she’d have swooned. Right then and there.
Greta’s head swelled to the point of near bursting. “Yes,” she murmured, blinking slowly. The conversation among the others drifted away, half the table arguing in favor of cell phones in the class, half opposed.
Meanwhile, Luke kept his eyes on her. Subtlety was nearly impossible, and Greta couldn’t bear to have her face flush again. Not on her first day. Not in front of him.
“It’s you?” she whispered, glancing at him from beneath her eyelashes.
His reply came low, even. “I thought you weren’t interested?”
“I never said that.”
Luke lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “You never said you were interested.”
Mrs. Cook strolled by, treating them like a group of students, inspecting and praising their four-square about the parent concern of Phones in the Classroom. Satisfied, she floated off. The rest of the table broke away into gossip and banter, leaving Greta and Luke to resume their conversation more comfortably. With less whispers. Less secrecy.
Though, Greta quite liked the secret conversation.
A chill danced up her spine, and goosebumps tingled across her limbs.
Not once in her years as a teacher or sub had she ever engaged in a flagrant flirtation at work.
“Are we talking about the same thing?” Greta couldn’t help it. Her cheeks burned. The skin on her arms turned cold and splotchy as if every bit of blood in her body had rushed to her head to help keep her brain functioning.
Luke cracked a grin. “Yes?”
She laughed, which helped to clear her head somewhat. “Maggie told me that your rental house comes with a stipulation.”
“And what’s that?” he replied.
“Whoever rents it must also take care of the bed-and-breakfast.”
His smile dissipated. “Well,” he began, “not exactly, but yes.”
She frowned.
Luke blew out a sigh and pushed his fingers through his hair. “We need someone on call at night. Someone on the property. We don’t keep the desk open past eight. So, it’s sort of like a twelve-hour shift, but you can go to sleep or whatever. Just keep your phone on. My aunt and I will handle the situation, but since we don’t have a night clerk, it’s nice to have an available staff member.” He shook his head. “It sounds weird, I know. Liesel would do it if she could stand to be in there, but she can’t. Not now. I’ve been staying over as much as possible, but with football season, it’s going to be hard. That’s why the rent is crazy low. Plus, if whoever moves in wants to take on more, we’ll cut the rent further.”
Greta mulled it over. It wasn’t as bad as she previously thought. Maggie mischaracterized the whole thing. Still, was it a good idea to complicate her life even further? First, she stole the barn from Gretchen. Now, she was going to take up in the Hart family heirloom? The worst thing she could do was become entangled in local drama.
What if there was more to it than just being “on call” overnight? What if she developed feelings for Luke then he broke her heart? What if she found a better job somewhere else the following summer?
“What are the other terms?” she asked.
He paused, glancing around the table then dipping his chin. “My aunt has a rental agreement typed up. I just need to run to my classroom to print it out. If you’d like, I could give it to you to look at during lunch?”
She swallowed. It already felt like a big commitment just to look at the agreement, even if she wasn’t signing it. What if she couldn’t handle taking phone calls over night? What if a real emergency did happen?
“What kind of emergencies?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed deep.
Luke chuckled. “Nothing, really. We’re hardly ever booked up, and people who stay there are often regulars. The ones who aren’t regulars, well, I give them my phone number. Mainly, we hope to cover household expenses like utilities. If I’m being honest with you, Greta,” he lowered his gaze, and she thought she saw a little color climb up his neck. “We just want someone to take care of Mamaw’s house. At least for a little while. Until we can get back on track.” He glanced up at her, an earnestness in his eyes.
“It could work,” she started to answer, chewing on her lower lip. “The price is right. It’s just... would it be, like a...” Words escaped her. Mrs. Cook had returned to the podium and was about to send them into another activity, no doubt.
“Conflict of interest,” Luke answered, his tone turning cold. He shook his head. “I understand. You don’t know me. I, well I don’t know you. Yeah, it’s weird. You’ve got enough on your plate without having to deal with living in your co-worker’s dead grandmother’s house.” Mirthlessness filled his face, and Greta tried to decide if he was being sincere or not. He made good points, but then, whenever did a landlord know his tenant before they signed a contract?
“Can I see it?” she said at last, hope clinging to each word.
Luke’s eyes flashed. “Of course you can. Yes, of course. We can go there right after work.”
“It’s a date,” she said, out of sheer habit. Wincing at herself as Luke chuckled, Greta shook her head. “Yes, I mean. That’s perfect.”
The rest of the day dragged on. At lunch, instead of going with Luke to print a copy of the lease agreement, Greta begged off to track down the secretary, Barb. Mrs. Cook had indicated that Barb would deliver her teaching contract before the end of the day and not to worry! You’ll be paid for showing up for pre-service training!
When she found the woman, Barb was juggling a tower of freshly printed packets.
“Let me help you,” Greta offered, taking half the stack and inhaling the sterile scent of hot paper and ink.
The woman was grateful, and Greta was happy to get to know her a little better.
“How’s your first day going?” Barb asked as she took short, choppy steps from the doorway of the cafeteria over to her table.
“It’s going well. Do you need help handing this out, or...?”
“No, no. I’ll handle, darlin’. Go get you something to eat before those men make their way down the line.” She nodded toward the buffet tables and laughed to herself.
“Actually, Miss Barb,” Greta went on, stalling nervously, “Mrs. Cook said I could see you about getting my contract?” She hated that it came out like a question, but, well, it was awkward to have to prompt her employers. At previous districts, the contract was available well before Greta began working. There she was, half a day in and not yet on the payroll. She licked her lips.
“Oh, right. Yes, well, I haven’t gotten it down from the district office yet. Why don’t we check together right after the in-service today? Will that be all right?”
Greta flashed a smile. “Sure!”
***
The afternoon training meant a brief goodbye from Luke, which was okay. She could use the distance to really think about the rental and if she really wanted to make a go of entering into an agreement with someone she was... well, attracted to.
English department meetings, grade level meetings, and then classroom work time whirred by. Come quarter to three, Greta was exhausted. Mainly, she’d thumbed her way through the book closet that spread between her room and the other English teacher’s. Ideas for unit plans and lessons took shape in her imagination. She jotted notes onto a whiteboard that sat propped up against the doorway. Shakespeare was questionable at that age, but they did have copies of Twelfth Night, which might work. More interesting than that were volumes of Poe and an Agatha Christie title. The hint of excitement was starting to creep in where dread formerly lived, fluttering like butterflies in her stomach and her heart. Maybe Middle School wouldn’t be too bad, after all.
Still, unease persisted not in Greta’s heart but in her head. If there was one thing she’d taken from her time in Indianapolis... her time with Kadan, it was that words (and even fine diamonds) were never enough. Promises were not enough. Deals... not enough.
Closing the door to the book closet, Greta took up her satchel and the tote in which she had neatly stowed her New Teacher Packet and every single handout from the day. Then, she left to find Miss Barb.
“I was just coming by to scoop you on up and sweep you upstairs, dear heart.” The portly, kind secretary waddled down the hall toward Greta, who smiled with relief.
The district office hung squarely on the second floor of Hickory Grove Middle School’s building, convenient and intimidating, to be sure.
Greta remembered as a child once glimpsing the superintendent escaping from the second floor down to the parking lot, like Bigfoot or some legend. She shuddered even now at the thought. They climbed the stairs together, side by side, Miss Barb pausing every few steps to catch her breath.
Once they made it upstairs, Greta inspected the hallowed space. Blown-up photographs of Hickory Grove students from yesteryear glimmered from behind their frames, staring from the past at Greta, pulling her back to ancient history. A time when her mother was alive. A student there, probably.
An invisible magnetic force pulled her toward the images.
“Hello-ooo!” Barb yodeled at the barren front desk.
Greta turned around and followed the woman’s searching gaze down a seemingly empty corridor.
“Hmm.” Barb tapped a long, painted fingernail on the wooden desk. She appeared to be considering whether to breach the invisible barrier between her station as a school secretary and the world of district leadership. “They don’t usually leave until five,” she went on, offering a sympathetic smile. “Probably in a meeting, dear.”
Greta checked her wristwatch. She had promised to follow Luke to The Hickory Grove Inn at three sharp. She had his number. She could cancel. But should she?
Or should she trust that a contract was drawn up, ready for her signature, waiting on someone’s desk just yards away?
“That’s all right, Miss Barb.” Greta shrugged happily. “I’m sure I can get it tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere.”
But as she said it, her stomach churned. Her mind flitted back to Kadan again. The broken promises of principals who’d assured her that her sub gig would turn into a full-time classroom position. Then again, she hadn’t exactly heard from any other school anywhere she had applied.
Plus, she had a date now. A date with a bed-and-breakfast and the house next door and the man who owned it. The man who needed her help.