His Valentine Surprise

Not that Shay had any kids. Or a husband. Or even a steady boyfriend.

She was currently between relationships, which seemed to worry her parents. After climbing out of the car, she shut her door—resisting the juvenile urge to slam it. Her brother, Bastien the M.D., didn’t have a girlfriend. He practically lived at the hospital, and both parents applauded his lofty career goals as building a solid foundation for the future. When Bastien had declared he wanted to go to medical school, their father had never once suggested he settle for being a school nurse and take the summers off! So why the heck couldn’t Shay get the same support for her professional aspirations? After all, it was a lifetime of listening to her mother—a retired elementary school teacher—that had inspired Shay in the first place. Mrs. Morgan and her teaching colleagues had been full of great ideas but lacked the power to implement them. Shay had decided early that she wanted to work her way up the scholastic ladder so that she could one day help teachers.

But so far, it was slow going at Woodside—an elementary school too small to have an assistant principal who might have been an ally in easing the transition. Maybe some of the faculty felt that warming to Shay too quickly would be disloyal to Esteemed Principal Ridenour. Everyone had been shocked by his heart attack in November and sorry to see him leave the school when he took early retirement midyear. Perhaps Shay’s eagerness to tackle her new position after the winter break had come across as unseemly, as if she were seizing on someone else’s misfortune.

I will win these people over, she promised herself. After all, she was pretty darn likable. She was also truly passionate about providing a wonderful environment and the best education possible for the students of the small elementary school. In theory, her advocacy for their well-being gave her common ground with everyone else who set foot inside the door.

Like, for instance, the PTA president.

Shay sighed when she saw that exact woman pacing outside the school’s front office, talking in low, tense tones with two other mothers. Shay recognized one of them as Carolyn Moon. The mom of a first grader, a third grader and fourth-grade twins, Carolyn seemed to spend as much time on school property as Shay did. Shay couldn’t remember off the top of her head who the third woman was, but she looked just as unhappy as her companions. Thankfully, the trio kept their voices diplomatically soft—the students making their way to class before the first bell rang seemed oblivious to whatever the problem was.

If Shay were shorter, she might have given in to the temptation to blend in with a few of the fifth graders and slip past the mothers lying in wait. The PTA president, Nancy, was a sweet woman who truly cared about the student body, but she was a very anxious “the sky is falling” sort. She seemed perpetually worried that the school teetered on the brink of disaster and that, as president, she would be at the helm of the ship when it sank. It didn’t help to have a second-in-command like Carolyn Moon, who complained about everything, upsetting Nancy’s already-nervous disposition. Shay had learned quickly that finding Carolyn waiting for her outside the office was never a good way to start the day.

I can handle this. I am the principal, and I got this job because I am good at what I do. Shay pasted a wide, welcoming smile on her face and vowed that while she certainly encouraged dialogue from concerned parents, she was not going to let herself be ambushed before she’d even had a chance to pour a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, ladies,” she said as they descended on her, all talking at once.

“Ms. Morgan,” Carolyn began, “do you have any idea—”

Nancy cleared her throat and gave a surreptitious shake of her head. “Principal Morgan, we’re sure you have a very full day, but—”

“I would be happy to find a few minutes in the schedule to chat with you,” Shay assured them, “but right now, I need to prepare for the morning announcements. If the three of you want to wait, I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you have somewhere else you need to be, please email me with anything you need to discuss. Or see Roberta about setting up an appointment.”

“This should be addressed immediately!” Carolyn insisted. “A person can’t just spam—”

“We’ll wait,” Nancy said firmly, shooting another look at her fellow PTA board member. Carolyn, this year’s vice president, was clearly champing at the bit for her chance to be commander in chief, figuratively speaking.

Although Carolyn seemed like the type who might not realize it was figurative.

Shay agreed to return as soon as she could, then allowed herself to get caught up in the swell of children sent to the front office with various “please excuse Diane’s absence yesterday” and “please allow Johnny to ride home on the bus with his friend” notes that had to be filed. The thirty minutes between when the front doors first opened to students and when morning announcements began were always hectic for the administrative staff.

Today, the usual cacophony of voices was dominated by two boys, each claiming that a pair of mittens in the office Lost and Found belonged to him. One boy was wailing that his mother had sworn he’d never see his Nintendo DS again if he lost another article of winter clothing this year. Roberta was trying to arbitrate the dispute. The five-foot-tall secretary had hair exactly like steel wool and she owned a sweater set in every color invented.

“You boys are much too loud,” Shay said in quiet counterpoint to their shouting. “It’s disrespectful to Mrs. Cree and to everyone else in the office.”

Roberta looked up, including Shay in the pursed-lip censure she’d bestowed on the arguing boys. “I can handle this if you’d prefer to go check your email.”

No doubt whatever those mothers outside the office were flustered about would be explained by the contents of Shay’s in-box. Bypassing the coffeemaker, Shay left the boys in Roberta’s custody and made a beeline for her office. Once inside she shut her door and entered her password, braced for the worst.

Whatever she’d been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been a plea from a student, soliciting dates for her father. Apparently, an email had gone out to the hundred and fifty or so families on the PTA mailing list. At least eleven parents had forwarded Shay a copy. The letter appeared to have come from Dee Riggs, the chairperson in charge of both the school’s autumn and spring book fairs. But the subject line of the email stated, From Victoria Hathaway. It seemed that Victoria was trying to boost her father’s love life in hopes of eventually getting a new mother.

Did Dee Riggs even realize yet that her email account had been hijacked in this manner? Given the number of parents who had already contacted Shay, surely someone had emailed Dee or planned to call her. Shay would talk to the woman today. First, however, she needed to have a few words with Victoria Hathaway’s father and sole guardian.

Shay leaned forward and pressed the intercom button on her phone. “Roberta? I need you to get me—”

“He’s already on his way.”

Chapter Two

Most days, Mark’s employer was in Colorado, oblivious to Mark’s daily schedule. So why, the one day when Bennett was in town and wanted to see for himself how things were at the store, did Mark get a call from Woodside that would delay opening this morning? Did that qualify as irony or just lousy luck? Mark wasn’t even sure why he’d been asked to come up to the school.

“Is Vicki sick?” he’d asked as soon as the woman on the phone said she was calling from Woodside.

“No, sir. We don’t need you to pick up your daughter. Principal Morgan just needs to speak with you.”

The new principal, Shay Morgan. Mark had received the same cheerful letter of introduction as the other Woodside parents, but he’d never met Shay face-to-face. Maybe this wasn’t such bad luck after all. He’d been meaning to talk to her anyway about the Fitness Fair.

Before he disconnected the call he asked, more as a parental reflex than an actual concern, “Vicki’s not in trouble, is she?” His daughter had been eerily well behaved since his wife died. Aside from her growing exasperation that Mark showed no signs of remarrying, she rarely fussed or challenged any of the rules. Rosycheeked Mrs. Norris said she was a dream to babysit for: “So quiet you hardly know she’s in the house.”

Instead of promptly assuring him that Vicki hadn’t broken any rules, the secretary said primly, “You’ll have to take that up with the principal.” Then she hung up, leaving him perplexed for the duration of his fifteen-minute drive.

As it had in the past, walking through the school’s front doors gave him a twinge, reminding him of how much it had stung, after Jess’s death, to bring Vicki here on her very first day of kindergarten without her mother there to see it or help her get ready. Mark didn’t often find himself on campus, except for periodic performances or the August orientation held each year so that students could meet their teachers for the first time. On those occasions, he was usually part of a noisy crowd. This morning, the front hallway was quiet. The only person he passed was a woman who appeared to be signing in her tardy son. Recognizing her as someone who’d shopped at the store before, Mark offered a small finger wave. Inexplicably, the woman smothered a giggle and glanced away sharply.

Oookay. Dismissing her strange behavior, Mark turned in to the main office. The school secretary, Roberta Cree, stood at the copy machine, feeding paper into the tray. Even though he’d seen Roberta before, he was struck anew by how short she was. Over the phone, she was much taller.

The secretary dipped her chin by way of greeting. “Mr. Hathaway. I’ll let the principal know y—”

“Mr. Hathaway?” A blonde poked out of the office behind the front counter. “Mark Hathaway? I’m Shay Morgan.”

Wow. Mark didn’t recall any school principals looking like that during his childhood. Was she unusually young for a principal, or had his perspective of age simply adjusted now that he himself was an adult? Even without the added height of her black boots, she would be tall for a woman, and she was noticeably curvy beneath a soft aqua sweater that matched her eyes.

Unfortunately, those blue-green eyes were narrowing at him in displeasure.

Had he been caught ogling? It had been so long since he’d ogled that he really wasn’t sure.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” he defended himself. “You’re just not what I expected. I guess I’m so used to seeing Principal Ridenour come out of that office, and you’re, uh…not him.” Physically, it was hard to imagine how she could be any more unlike the stout, balding former principal.

“So I’ve been told,” she said with a tight smile.

She ushered him into her office and shut the door, indicating one of the padded chairs that sat around a small round table. “Thank you for coming up to the school so quickly. It had been my intention to discuss this on the ph—” She broke off, frowned and started over. “I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Hathaway. We need to talk about Vicki. Are you, by any chance, aware of an email that your daughter sent?”

“My daughter? That’s impossible. Aside from the fact that she obviously doesn’t have an email account, she never uses my computer without close supervision.”

Shay—Principal Morgan—settled into one of the other chairs. She crossed her legs, displayed to flattering effect beneath her black skirt and thin hose. It caught him by surprise that he even noticed. Over the years, many women had come into the store, some of them athletic and, he supposed, quite pretty. But he’d have better luck describing what any one of them had purchased than what she looked like. Feeling off balance, it took him a moment to focus on what the principal was saying.

“A number of parents forwarded me this.” She pushed a sheet of paper toward him.

Curious, he picked it up and glanced at the subject heading. From Victoria Hathaway?

“This is my sister-in-law’s email address. Vicki…” He trailed off, recalling how pleased he and Dee had been that Vicki and Bobby were getting along so well. During the past two family dinners, the kids had shut themselves in the study with no discernible bickering or tattling. Which should have been enough to make you suspicious, dummy. “Vicki has a cousin who must have helped her. She wouldn’t know how to send an email by herself.”

“Bobby Riggs, Dee’s son?” Shay nodded. “Earlier this week, I presented him with a trophy from the council-level science fair. Clearly a smart boy. It makes sense that Vicki would have dictated her letter—the punctuation and spelling are far above the normal first-grade level.”

With growing trepidation, Mark began to read.

My name is Victoria Hathaway. People call me Vicki. I am six years old and in the first grade at Woodside Elementary school. I am the only girl in my class who doesn’t have a mommy.

Mark’s heart stuttered. He’d known Vicki was growing more resentful of her single parent status, but seeing her unhappiness articulated like that on the paper in front of him… He was shocked that, instead of trying to talk to him more about it, she’d decided to share it with the population of Woodside! What had Bobby been thinking to help her with this?

My daddy is Mark Hathaway. He is a good man, but a not so good cook. My mom went to heaven. He needs a new wife, but he never ever goes on dates.

Was it possible to keep one’s face from turning red through sheer force of will? He kept his gaze locked on the humiliating paper in his hand and away from the lovely blonde who watched him silently.

I think my dad is shy. Can you help us? It will be Valentine’s Day soon, and he is very lonely. If you are a lady who is not too old and don’t already have a husband, maybe you could be Daddy’s valentine. Please let him know if you would like him. He is gone at the store a lot, but he is fun when he is home. It would also be good if you have a dog. I really want one. But not as much as I want a mom.

Thank you,

Victoria Kathryn Hathaway

Mark was mortified. And aching for his daughter. And fully prepared to ground both her and her cousin for the rest of their natural lives. Well, she had tried to warn him that morning. Don’t worry, Daddy, I have a plan. He was flooded with reactions, from grudging admiration of his daughter’s problem-solving ingenuity—hell, maybe she could help brainstorm ideas on how to save the store—to renewed anger that his wife had been taken from them so young.

He heard his own rusty chuckle. In his struggle to formulate a response, he’d unconsciously chosen laughter. “Maybe I could just get her a puppy?”

“I’m not sure making jokes is the best way to handle this,” the principal countered gently. “Your daughter obviously—”

“Have you even met my daughter?” he asked. Mark wasn’t normally rude, but he was still reeling at the idea of Vicki feeling so desperate that she’d taken action behind his back. He always read the weekly notes from her teacher, Mrs. Frost, and Lord knew he’d listened to hours of advice from Dee because he accepted that his sister-in-law had Vicki’s best interests at heart. But he resented the condescending tone from a woman who might not even recognize Vicki if she saw her.

Shay squared her shoulders, rigid in her chair. “I go into all of the classrooms, occasionally reading stories to the kids or picking a table to have lunch with, but no, I have not been individually introduced to your daughter. And, before you ask, no, I don’t have any children of my own. What I do have are years of classroom experience working with kids and a Master of Education. I may be younger than Principal Ridenour, but I assure you I’m qualified for my job.”

Mark shoved a hand through his hair, aware that he’d botched this meeting so far. “Of course you are, Ms. Morgan. I apologize. I got defensive because this is personal.”

Her posture eased slightly, but her expression didn’t soften. “I understand why you would feel that way, but this email was sent to everyone on the PTA mailing list. I haven’t spoken to Vicki yet, or her aunt, for that matter. I wanted to make sure that you, as the responsible parent, were fully aware of the situation first. But I am going to send out a concise email addressing the situation.”

In other words, Mark translated, his “personal” matter had become quite public.

“Before we call her into the office, though,” the principal added, “I wanted to talk with you for a few minutes. Are you aware that there’s a community support group for single parents that meets in the school cafeteria the first and third Wednesday nights of every month?”

“I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but I’m not going to give up another night with my daughter. Tuesday evenings she has ballet, and Friday, inventory at the store sometimes goes pretty late, so—”

“That would be the store mentioned in Vicki’s letter, when she says you’re away a lot? Mr. Hathaway, as someone who’s never been married, I can’t know precisely what it’s like to lose a spouse. But I realize it must be very difficult for you and Vicki. Maybe this wasn’t so much a plea for a new mom as a cry for more attention.”

“Vicki knows how much I love her.” Doesn’t she? “I tell her every single day. She’s the most… She’s my world, Ms. Morgan.” He recalled a promise he’d made to Jess, when they’d known how little time she’d had left. He’d told her that he’d love Vicki enough for both of them. Was he failing?

“I don’t doubt that.” Radiating sympathy, the principal laid her hand atop his on the table. Then she blinked, as if she were as surprised by the physical contact as he was. She withdrew immediately. “Maybe it would help if you supplemented your words with actions, with your time. The first-grade classes have already been on a couple of field trips this year. Were you able to chaperone any of those?”

“I have a store to run.” This woman had no idea what kind of pressure he was under to keep the place afloat and to keep Vicki here in Braeden. Was he really being condemned as a bad father because he hadn’t accompanied a bunch of six-year-olds to a petting zoo?

“You also have a daughter who needs you,” she said. “There are numerous studies that show how much a child benefits, both emotionally and academically, when a parent is able to volunteer at the school.”

Those studies weren’t going to pay his mortgage. But he tamped down the sarcasm. If his showing up for the occasional field trip would help Vicki, he’d find a way to do it. But it seemed that Ms. Morgan had even bigger ideas.

She handed him a blue folder. “That contains information on different ways you can get involved in the classroom. We’re always in need of parental support for our activities. Our fall book fair, normally a week long, only ran three days this year because we couldn’t staff all of the available shifts. And the Campside Girls who’ve traditionally had their weekly troop meetings here had to disband this year because they couldn’t find a leader.”

“A shame,” he muttered. “I would have been happy to give the troop discounts on gear for—”

“Mr. Hathaway! We’re discussing your daughter’s well-being, not your store. Study the list I’ve given you. There must be something on it that you’re suited to, a way you can chip in and show Vicki that she’s just as important to you as your job.”

Maybe the two could dovetail—his principal-mandated community service and his promise to Bennett to boost business.

“Actually, it’s a funny coincidence,” Mark said, flashing her a smile. He tried for charm but it was difficult to gauge whether or not he succeeded. “I wanted to talk to you about getting involved with Woodside this spring.”

“Really?” Her tone was suspicious.

“Honest. I know Woodside’s hosting that Fitness Fair and as you may know, at Up A Creek, we—”

“That’s the name of your store?”

“It’s the store I manage, yes. I’m not the owner.” And if he didn’t find a way to boost profits enough to appease the owner, then—

“Mr. Hathaway, I believe you are missing the point.” Her tone was wooden. “Your daughter needs you.”

This judgmental blonde didn’t think he was aware of that fact every second of every day? Vicki needed him to braid hair, which he couldn’t do, and provide dinner, which he usually messed up; the matter-of-fact criticism in her email that he was a not so good cook stung more than he would have predicted. But she also needed him to provide food and shelter and the clothes she seemed to outgrow every other week.

The responsibility had been weighing heavily on his shoulders lately. Now, with Shay Morgan poking at his flaws, he wanted to yell that he was doing the best he could. Ironically, it was the very fear that his words might be true that kept him silent.

What if this was the best he had to offer and it wasn’t enough to truly keep his daughter healthy and happy?

He tightened his grip on the folder, sucking in his breath at the resulting paper cut. “I’ll read everything in here and find a way to participate.”

“Wonderful! I look forward to working with you,” Shay lied unconvincingly. She sounded as if she’d rather be buried beneath a rock slide than deal with him again.

He could relate. That was pretty much how he felt about her right now, too.

AS SHE WAITED ALONE IN her office for Mark Hathaway’s return, Shay took a moment to compose herself. They’d asked Roberta to call for Vicki via the classroom intercom system, but Mrs. Frost had answered that the class was outside with the gym teacher and that it would take a few minutes to find Vicki and escort her to the office. Meanwhile, Mark had stepped outside to phone his store—the cell reception was lousy in the school—so he could let his employee know it would be at least another half an hour before he returned to work. He’d excused himself with a note of challenge in his voice, as if expecting Shay to come down on him for being a diligent boss.

She sighed, staring sightlessly at her computer monitor. Well, you’ve handled this like a real pro.

No doubt startled by his daughter’s attempts to engineer his love life, Mark Hathaway had been prickly throughout their meeting. It hadn’t helped that instead of defusing the situation, Shay herself had felt defensive, unbalanced. Her original intention had been to phone the man and discuss Vicki’s email, but Roberta had acted preemptively, summoning him to the office on Shay’s behalf. Would their conversation have gone more smoothly if it hadn’t been face-to-face?

Get a grip. He’s hardly the first good-looking man you’ve ever met.

True, but she wasn’t reacting just to Mark’s tall, athletic build or the handsome face framed by inky-black hair. She was responding more to his reaction to her. The way his gaze had traveled over her in the front office… If she’d been out somewhere socially, instead of at a place of work where she was trying to establish her authority, the appreciation in those gray eyes would have made her shiver. And she hadn’t missed his staring at her legs once they sat down together.

But despite the temptation to be flattered as a woman, she was annoyed as a professional. You’re not what I expected, he’d said, comparing her to Principal Ridenour. Was Mark Hathaway one of those people who would underestimate her as a pretty face, too young and not up to the serious responsibilities of her job? He certainly wouldn’t be the first. Her thoughts flickered from the mothers gathered outside her office this morning to her own father, but she shut down that line of contemplation. This morning was about little Victoria Hathaway, not Shay.

Sometimes this job called for deciding what was best for students as a whole, implementing policies that would affect the nearly three hundred kids at Woodside, but other days, it was far more personal, trying to help each child one at a time. And, as exasperating as her parents could sometimes be, Shay loved them both and couldn’t imagine how difficult a time this was for the motherless first grader.