Three

Never Late

The city bus broke down in the middle of the busy street. It sputtered and coughed before it finally met its end. Panicked, Sharleen stood and gathered her things. She pushed the rear door open with both hands, barely able to squeeze through the tight space because of the width of her backpack. Finally, a frantic Sharleen exited the bus and hurried down the street, dodging people in the process like the stealth warrior of a video game.

Huffing and sweating, Sharleen entered the lobby of the five-story office building that housed the Parks and Recreation department. She spotted a bank of elevators and headed to the first one available.

A moment later, the elevator doors opened. She rushed down a long corridor toward the closed double doors of an office suite, catching other suite numbers in her peripheral vision while speed-walking. Before entering, she checked the suite number on a placard next to the door.

Maisy Prewett’s office was simple, small, and cluttered. It was adorned with many trinkets that paid tribute to her Scottish heritage, including a coat of arms hanging on the wall. Sitting at the desk, her attention was directed to the large window behind her, which offered a view of the picturesque town square, including newly hung Christmas decorations. Maisy stared at them with a flash of nostalgia, an expression of sentiment that was rare for her to feel, or show.

This fifty-plus woman took gruff from no one. Life lessons. She had a large build, hair that was graying at the temples, and a permanent stress headache. Always dressed casually and for comfort, she wore her unofficial work uniform consisting of a Parks and Recreation embroidered Polo, khakis, and super comfy sneakers.

Turning away from the view, Maisy glanced at a clock on the wall. She then checked her wristwatch, as if needing a second opinion on time.

As if on cue, Sharleen entered the room with a burst of energy. The dark-haired, wide-eyed young lady appeared breathless and flushed. She struggled to slip her backpack off her shoulders before sitting down.

Leaning forward in the chair, Maisy was intrigued and impressed. It was clear Sharleen had made a considerable effort to be punctual.

“You must be Sharleen,” Maisy began.

Taking in a deep, calming breath, Sharleen nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Maisy.

“Thank you.” Tension around Sharleen’s shoulders eased.

“I feel like I need to give you a moment to catch your breath.”

Grateful for the mercy shown to her, Sharleen nodded and smiled. Within a few seconds, she explained her predicament. “The bus broke down. I ran the rest of the way. But I made it.”

“I appreciate the effort you made to be here on time. Tardiness is one of my greatest pet peeves. What’s yours?”

Sharleen opted for honesty and humor. “Not being able to breathe for one.”

Although she didn’t show it, Maisy was amused. “Tell me about yourself.” she continued. “Why should I hire you?”

“I want to be a teacher,” Sharleen explained. “A music teacher, to be exact. I’m in college. My last year.”

“Yes, I see that here on your resume,” Maisy noted. “I also see you grew up on the south side of town. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“Yes, I did,” Sharleen replied. “And, no, it wasn’t.”

“That neighborhood still has its issues. It’s a tough place to be.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Sharleen offered. “I haven’t been back there in seven years.”

“That’s a long time to be away from home, especially since it’s so close.”

For the first time in their conversation, Sharleen broke eye contact. “It’s not really home for me anymore. It hasn’t been for a while.”

Sensing she’d tripped upon a sensitive subject, Maisy shifted the conversation away from the personal and back to the professional. “Your background in music is quite impressive.” Without thinking, she added, “Your parents must be very proud of you.”

Instant sadness filled Sharleen’s eyes. “Unfortunately, I lost both of my parents when I was seventeen. They died in a house fire.”

Cautious with her choice of words, Maisy said, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Are they the reason you want to become a teacher?”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I know that teaching is my calling.”

Maisy raised an eyebrow. “Despite the many challenges?”

Sharleen held Maisy’s gaze. “I’ve never been afraid of a challenge,” she said. “In fact, they only make me work harder.”

“Yes, I get that impression,” said Maisy. “You do realize this position is a temporary one. It’s only for the holiday season.”

Sharleen straightened her posture. Anticipation flashed across her face. “Yes, I do.”

“And the pay isn’t much.”

“Some pay is better than no pay,” Sharleen said with a grin. She followed this up with a more serious tone. “I really want the experience.”

“And we show up even when the weather is bad.”

“I have a warm coat,” Sharleen insisted.

Maisy gave the young woman a stern look. “Can you direct a holiday variety show? Singing and dancing and funny skits, that sort of thing. Nothing fancy. And don’t lie to me or tell me what I want to hear.”

“Miss Prewett,” Sharleen began, “I can direct the best holiday variety show this town has ever seen.”

“That sounds pretty confident,” said Maisy. “I like confidence.” Maisy contemplated the decision to hire Sharleen. She displayed confidence, punctuality wouldn’t be an issue if today’s first meeting was any indication. Although hesitant, admiration won the battle. “I tell you what, Sharleen Vega. I want you to go down to the third floor to the human resources office. They’ll have some paperwork for you to fill out, including a background check.”

Sharleen stood with a rush of relief and joy. “That won’t be a problem,” she assured her new boss.

“We have a holiday staff meeting Friday morning at ten,” Maisy instructed. “I expect you to be there. You’ll find out what school you’ve been assigned to you then.”

Sharleen nodded. “Thank you, Maisy.”

Despite her cool front, Maisy couldn’t help but crack a smile. “And you may call me Maisy.”

“Thank you, Maisy,” Sharleen repeated, followed by a short, awkward laugh. She grabbed her backpack and headed for the door.

“Oh, and another thing,” Maisy said, stopping Sharleen in her tracks. “Don’t be late,” she warned. “Ever.”

“I’m never late,” Sharleen vowed.

Come Friday morning, a car alarm sounded, waking Sharleen from a deep slumber. She stirred and opened her eyes. The blinking clock caught her attention. The flashing numbers on the digital alarm clock on her makeshift nightstand, which consisted of two stacked milk crates, indicated a power outage occurred during the night.

At once, Sharleen sat up.

“Oh my God,” she said, reaching for her cell phone. The screen read 9:40 a.m. Sharleen screamed in frustration. In a flurry, she scrambled out of bed and reached for the first pair of jeans she could find on the bedroom floor.

Hot and sweaty, Sharleen entered the large room, trying to remain unnoticed. The backpack made it tough to move without being detected, but she gave it her best effort. Passing by a long table, she grabbed a courtesy bottle of water sitting in an ice-filled pail. Her mouth was as dry as bone, and her throat ached from breathing so hard.

Sharleen did a quick scan, knowing that the people there were fellow staff members. Most looked like they were also college students.

In her usual casual attire, Maisy stood in front of the room behind a portable lectern. Behind her, the first slide of a presentation was projected on a screen. She spotted Sharleen’s entrance and watched her move throughout the room.

Sharleen took a seat in the back row next to a young woman with a butterfly barrette in her long, blonde hair.

“Sharleen, I’m so happy you could join us,” Maisy announced, with more than a tinge of sourness in her voice.

Everyone in the room turned in a wave of unison and stared at Sharleen.

Embarrassed, she stood, still holding the recently acquired bottle of water. “My apologies,” she offered. “I had car trouble.”

With a hand on her hip, Maisy shot Sharleen a look of disbelief and said, “Oh?”

Sharleen grinned and replied, “My trouble is I don’t have a car.”

The room erupted into laughter.

Why did I say that. What did I just do?

Maisy didn’t appear amused. “I admire your entertainment skills,” she said. “I hope you apply those when directing your holiday variety show.”

“Yes,” said Sharleen. “I definitely will.”

She sat back down, uncapped the bottle of water, and took a few desperate gulps.

Looking out at the staff, Maisy said, “I’m so pleased that all of you are here. Working through the holidays is a real testament to your commitment to the youths in our town. So, thank you.”

She then reached for a clipboard on a nearby table and glanced over the information on a piece of paper attached to it. “Now, I know you’re all dying to find out what your assignments are for the next seven weeks, so let’s get started.”

The staff members leaned forward in their seats, anxious.

“First up, George and Cassie, you’ll be working at the outdoor ice rink as ice guards.”

The young woman sitting next to Sharleen mumbled, “I don’t even know how to ice skate.”

Smiling, Sharleen told her, “Better not tell Maisy that.”

“Kimberly, you’ll be joining them there as the concession stand manager,” Maisy continued. “Hannah and Courtney, you’ve been assigned to coordinate the holiday bazaar at Tanglewood High School.”

Two young women let out a simultaneous squeal of delight.

“Josh and Tammy, you’ve been assigned to coordinate the holiday parade.”

Sharleen’s new friend whispered to her, “They get the holiday parade every year.”

“I can see why,” Sharleen replied. “They look like they were born to ride a float.”

“Now, for the holiday variety shows,” Maisy said, with a hint of seriousness in her words. “I’ve hired three new program coordinators. First up, I need one of you three to volunteer to direct the show at Harmonville Elementary School.”

Sharleen felt a ping of stress between her shoulder blades at the mention of the school. It was a familiar name.

“Where is that?” she heard someone ask.

“It’s in the hood,” said another voice in response.

Why do people call it that? It’s just a place.

“I need someone who has a desire to work with at-risk youths,” explained Maisy “These are children with complex lives.”

The room remained quiet and still.

Seeming determined to appeal to the hearts of her staff, Maisy said, “There’s never been a holiday program at that particular school, or any afterschool program, for that matter.” She waited for a response. Instead, everyone avoided making eye contact with her, slinking down into their metal folding chairs, hoping to not be singled out by their boss. “Not in the history of this department,” Maisy added. “Seriously, people, you have the chance to make a difference with this assignment. Does that matter to you?”

Sharleen waited and looked around the room for a response from someone, anyone. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. With reluctance, she stood. All eyes shifted to her again.

“I’ll do it,” she announced.

Cassie tugged at Sharleen’s sleeve in an attempt to pull her back down into the chair. “Are you crazy?”

Sharleen took a deep breath before addressing everyone in the room. “Those kids want to celebrate the holidays, too,” she reminded them. “And I should know.” She swallowed the wave of emotion creeping up her throat. Please don’t let me cry in front of these people. “It’s where I grew up.” Sharleen then turned her focus to Maisy and said with conviction, “Send me to Harmonville, please.”

Maisy offered a quick nod of approval. “Thank you, Sharleen. I look forward to seeing what magic you can make happen there.”

Sharleen’s cell phone buzzed. She pulled the phone out of her pocket, looked at the screen, and an immediate sense of dread filled her veins.

It was an incoming call from Harmonville Hospital.

Without hesitation, Sharleen grabbed her backpack, the empty bottle of water, and moved to the double doors, anxious to leave the room.

Maisy stopped her with her words. “Everything okay, Sharleen?”

Sharleen kept moving as she spoke. “I think something has happened to my grandmother,” she said. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”