Four Little Problems

“Yes, I think I remember hearing about a car wash?” Emily had tried to block out any information pertaining to Patrick Stevens. Apparently, she’d failed. “And a bake sale?”

He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, the kids are pretty industrious once they get their hearts set on something.”

“Yes, they are.” Emily swallowed hard, then glanced away, unable to meet his earnest gaze. His obvious affection for his students stung. Why couldn’t he have been that way with Jason? It might have made a world of difference to the boy. Instead, her son had been rejected by yet another male authority figure. She’d sometimes wondered if Jason’s pranks had been a bid for attention, a clumsy way to connect with this reserved man.

Instead, Patrick Stevens had been cold and unyielding. And Emily’s heart had broken as she’d watched Jason build a wall around his emotions. Her once fun-loving, affectionate son had grown sarcastic and rude. Prepubescent hormones were one explanation. But Emily thought his attitude was probably more the result of one disappointment too many coming from a father figure.

Of course, Emily shouldn’t blame the teacher. Loving his students wasn’t in his contract. Nor trying to understand them.

“Ms. Patterson?”

Emily flushed. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“I pointed out the figure we’ll need from the PTO funds. Tiffany didn’t seem to think it would be a problem.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of money. I’ve seen the PTO budget and I can’t help but wonder why Tiffany agreed to this.”

“She mentioned having some special fund-raising project in the works for the spring that would make it possible.”

“What kind of special project?”

“That’s just it. I have no idea. She wouldn’t say. Just said it was big.”

“I’ll talk to Principal Ross. Maybe she knew about it. Something that big would need to be planned well in advance.”

“Time is critical, Ms. Patterson. The hotel and bus companies are pressing for deposits. We have enough from our own fund-raising, but I don’t want to make a nonrefundable deposit if there’s a chance the PTO won’t come through on what’s been promised. I need to know right away.”

“Mr. Stevens, obviously I can’t commit to something I know nothing about. I’ll talk to the principal, see if she knows where the rest of Tiffany’s notes might be. In the meantime, Principal Ross is putting my name on the PTO account. I can’t access the bank statements until then.”

“Can’t Ross access them?”

Emily shook her head. She was starting to get a bad feeling about this. “There was some mix-up at the bank and Principal Ross was removed as a cosigner. After the treasurer moved to Texas in November, Tiffany was the only one with access.”

Patrick cursed under his breath. He seemed to swear a lot for a dispassionate guy.

EMILY SET A STACK of paper plates in the center of the large picnic table she used for a kitchen dinette set. Nancy’s husband, Beau, was working tonight, so she and Ana were staying for dinner.

“So maybe Tiffany was playing fast and loose with the PTO funds?” Nancy’s eyes sparkled with interest as she folded paper napkins and arranged them with plastic cutlery. “I knew there was something about that woman.”

“I didn’t say that. We won’t know anything until one of us can access the account. Principal Ross said she’d go to the bank tomorrow and straighten it out.”

“But still, it’s a little strange, don’t you think? Only Tiffany’s name as signatory on the account?”

“Shh. I don’t want to start any rumors.” Emily nodded meaningfully toward the family room, where her two younger boys, Mark and Ryan, played hide-and-seek with Nancy’s daughter, Ana.

Jason had basketball practice and Jeremy was playing at a neighbor’s house.

Nancy sighed. “My bad. I guess I was hoping to dig up some dirt on the woman. She was just trying too hard to be perfect. And was downright mean, to boot.”

“I hope all of this turns out to be an honest mistake. The whole PTO thing is getting more complicated by the minute. Patrick Stevens is pressing me to release funds for the sixth-grade trip to Sea World.”

“You obviously need all the facts before you can do something like that. What’s his hurry?”

“He has good reason.” Emily put out a large bucket of the Colonel’s chicken, along with containers of coleslaw and baked beans. “Hotel and transportation deposits need to be made. But there’s nothing I can do.”

“This is more than you bargained for, huh?” Nancy’s voice was warm with concern.

“You don’t know the half of it. The PE teacher gave me some brochures for sports equipment. The art teacher mentioned how desperately we need art supplies. And the music instructor showed me how old and worn-out the band instruments are.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure, Em.”

“It is. And there’s a part of me that thinks the money Tiffany supposedly promised for the Florida trip could be put to better uses.”

“It’s a tough call, no doubt about it. But if you find Tiffany’s notes and she already promised the money, you’ll be hard-pressed to back out now.”

“That’s just it. I’ll be damned if I do and damned if I don’t. It might be best if Tiffany’s notes aren’t found. Then I can at least do what my conscience says is right.”

Nancy squeezed her arm. “Let’s look on the bright side. Maybe her fabulous spring fund-raiser will bring in so much money, you’ll be able to please everyone.”

Emily nodded. “Maybe.”

But as a single mom on a tight budget, she knew all too well there was rarely enough money to go around and someone always ended up mad. And it was starting to look like Patrick Stevens might be the angry one if the PTO budget was tight.

PATRICK ARRIVED at school well before the first bell. It had become a tradition.

And sure enough, he saw two figures huddled in the doorway, their thin coats probably affording very little warmth. It had been a mild winter for upstate New York, but mornings were still chilly. “Hey Ari, Kat. You look like you could use some hot chocolate.”

The two kids turned, nodding.

“The usual spot?” he asked.

They nodded again, following him to a bench near the doors.

Though Patrick walked slowly, he still reached the bench before them. He turned and waited.

Ari’s gait was erratic, one foot turned inward. His twin sister, Kat, slowed her pace to match his.

Patrick swallowed hard as he remembered another boy with a less pronounced pigeon-toed gait. A boy who had once run, laughed and played, but was developmentally little more than a toddler now.

He pushed the thought away. He couldn’t take that trip down memory lane.

When they’d settled themselves on the bench, Patrick withdrew a thermos from his backpack. He would have preferred a strong cup of coffee, but this ritual was for Ari and Kat.

He poured the steaming mixture into three cups.

The children waited patiently while he handed them each a foam cup.

The expressions in their huge, dark eyes were unreadable. Someone’s stomach growled.

“I hope you guys will help me out.” He withdrew a packet from his backpack. “I have these muffins that will go stale if someone doesn’t eat them. I thought maybe you two could help.”

“Yes, Mr. Stevens, we’ll help.” Kat spoke for both of them as she often did.

“Good.” He handed them each a banana-oat muffin, wishing it was a four-course hot breakfast. Their parents were immigrants, both working sixteen-hour days to make ends meet. Sometimes, he suspected there wasn’t enough food in the house.

Patrick sipped his hot cocoa, wondering if the kids thought it strange they didn’t go inside where it was warm. But they never asked, so he was spared explaining that it wasn’t prudent for a teacher to show a special interest in a child behind closed doors. He could understand the practical reasons, but it still saddened him.

Instead, they sat, shivering, right in front of the school, where they were appropriately supervised by anyone who might drive or walk by.

“I read…the book,” Ari said. His speech was a bit slow because of cerebral palsy, but his mind was sharp. He’d been mainstreamed several years back and had done fine. Of course, he also had his own personal guardian angel in the form of Kat.

“What did you think of the book, Ari?”

“Dolphins are smart and nice,” he enunciated slowly.

“Yes, they’re good animals. There are lots of true stories of dolphins keeping humans from drowning.” Funny, how he could say the word drowning without even flinching. Progress perhaps?

Ari’s eyes were bright with excitement. “I…will…swim with the dolphins. At Sea World.”

The thought made Patrick’s stomach churn.

“Sure, we’ll see the dolphins. I think you can even pet them from a boat.”

“No.” His reply was emphatic. “Swim.”

Anything but that.

For the first time he could remember, Patrick ignored Ari. “What about you, Kat, did you read the book?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to see the dolphins and penguins?”

She hesitated, as if afraid to believe in something that would turn out to be a fairy tale. “I’ll go if Ari goes.”

“Good. You guys worked really hard at the car wash.”

There was no way in hell he’d allow this trip to die. He’d promised all the sixth-graders, but most importantly, he’d promised Ari and Kat.

Emily Patterson would just have to do the right thing.

EMILY SIGHED when she hung up the phone, eyeing her overflowing In basket. Now she knew why it was mostly stay-at-home moms who were PTO presidents. She was in the unenviable position of having to ask to leave early two days in a row.

She found her boss in her office. “Olivia, the principal from the school called and wants to meet with me.”

Olivia gave her a pitying look. She probably assumed it was about Jason again.

Emily’s conscience twinged, but she didn’t correct her. She didn’t want her job jeopardized because of her PTO position.

Fortunately, Olivia was understanding. “Voice mail can pick up the phones. And you said you’d work through your lunch hour tomorrow?”

“Yes, I will. Thanks a bunch, Olivia.”

Her boss nodded. “Go.”

Emily grabbed her purse, forwarded the phones and left in a matter of minutes. She was breathless when she reached Principal Ross’s office, following Patrick through the door.

“Good, you’re both here,” the principal said. “Please close the door.”

Emily’s heart sank.

“Please, sit.” The woman sat behind her desk and nodded toward two chairs.

Patrick pulled out one of the chairs slightly and gestured for her to sit down.

His courtesy flustered her.

But she sat.

And so did he, in the chair next to her. They were practically knee-to-knee in the small office.

Principal Ross cleared her throat. “What I have to say is rather difficult. I expect it to stay in this room. Not to be repeated to anyone.”

“Of course,” Patrick said.

“Yes, of course,” Emily murmured, aware that she’d probably already shared too much with Nancy. But Nancy was discreet and wouldn’t repeat the information.

“I spent several hours at the bank today. The PTO account was in complete disarray. But the gist is, there’s only a few dollars left.”

Patrick stiffened. “There’s got to be some mistake.”

“I’m sorry, there’s no mistake. The branch manager checked and rechecked the figures while I was there. I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to contact the police.”

“Do you have any idea where the money went?” Emily asked.

Marilyn Ross’s mouth turned down at the corners. For a moment, Emily was afraid she might cry.

“I guess I can go ahead and tell you. There were several sizeable cash withdrawals made over the past three months. During the time that Tiffany Bigelow was sole signatory.”

Patrick swore under his breath.

Emily silently agreed.

“So I’m in the unenviable position of heaping more grief on the Bigelow family.”

“What effect will this have on the Sea World trip and all the other requests for PTO assistance?” Emily asked.

“The account is frozen. Tiffany had been very excited about a spectacular new connection she’d made for a fund-raising activity, but she didn’t share the details. I’m afraid I was distracted by…other priorities and didn’t give it the attention I should have.”

“Tiffany always took notes.” Patrick leaned forward. “I’ve been thinking she might have files on her home computer.”

“The thought crossed my mind, too. But the police will be involved very soon and I don’t think we’ll be in a position to ask favors from Tiffany’s husband. I sincerely doubt he’ll let us anywhere near her computer.”

Patrick hesitated, glancing at his watch. “It’s late. Surely, you don’t intend to call the police tonight.”

The principal sighed. “No, to be honest I just want to go home and have a glass of wine. This has been one heck of a day.”

“Since there’s nothing more we can do today, why don’t we sleep on it and maybe there will be an obvious solution tomorrow morning?” Patrick’s face was bland, innocent.

But Emily could almost feel electricity rolling off him. He might have sincere hazel eyes, but he was up to something.

“Yes. Let’s call it a day. I’ll update both of you within the next day or so. Remember, this goes no further than this room.”

Emily murmured agreement, aware of Patrick’s hand on her elbow as they left the office.

“Can I talk to you outside?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

“Of course.” Of course…she should run like hell. Because the reliable Mr. Stevens was putting out some decidedly dangerous vibes.

“Where’s your car?” he asked as they left the building.

She nodded in the direction of her minivan. “Over there.”

He was silent as they walked to her car.

Emily punched the button on her keyless entry tag. The lock opened, but she hesitated.

Patrick’s gaze was intent. “I need to ask you to do something for me.”

With some men, she would have figured he was propositioning her. The ones who hadn’t figured out that, although she enjoyed an off-color joke and liked to pretend she was worldly-wise, she kept her sex life toward the nonexistent end of the spectrum. She’d learned the consequences of loving too soon, too easily.

But she suspected Patrick had something else in mind. And that intrigued her.

“What?”

“I need access to Tiffany’s computer.”

“You heard Principal Ross. There’s no way we’ll get near that computer.”

“There’s one way. We go tonight, together, and ask Brad Bigelow. We tell him we’re very sorry to bother him, but we need Tiffany’s PTO files.”

“I’m not going to pester her family while they’re grieving.”

Patrick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It is kind of ghoulish. But we’ll be very tactful, very respectful. And we might discover some simple answer for the missing money. We could end up saving her family more grief.”

Emily contemplated his argument. They might actually be helping Tiffany’s family. It was a stretch, though. “Why do I have to be there?”

“People trust you. You’re very open and always say what you think.”

Emily chuckled, a hoarse, desperate sound. And here she’d thought nobody listened to a word she said. “I’m trustworthy, so you want me to lie to a man who suddenly lost his wife and the mother of his children and must be out of his mind with grief.”

“Yes.” He frowned. “I guess that’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Let the police handle it.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do. But you heard Ross. Once the police are involved that computer will be tied up for years. It won’t harm anyone if we copy her PTO files.” He leaned closer, his gaze earnest. “Please?”

“It means that much to you, this Florida trip?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

He glanced away. “I’m not going to disappoint those kids.” His voice was low.

Emily was touched. And wary. This was not the Patrick Stevens she’d met two years ago. “Okay. But I’ll need to get home first to feed my kids and supervise their homework. Should we call Brad?”

“No. Let’s not give him any advance warning.”

“I can meet you at eight. We’ll need the Bigelow’s address. I think they live on Cedar….”

“I’ve got their address in here.” He patted his backpack.

Emily had to wonder why he seemed so prepared, as if he’d known he would need the information. She also had to wonder if maybe there was another reason he was so anxious to get his hands on Tiffany’s files.

CHAPTER THREE

“YOU’RE SURE I shouldn’t follow you to the Bigelows’ house?” Emily asked Patrick when they met later that evening. She’d parked under a light in the coffee house parking lot.

Patrick leaned against a Lexus SUV. “Better if we arrive together—a united front. It’ll seem more natural, like we’re working closely on the project. I’ll drive, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.” Might as well use his gas.

He walked around to the other side of the SUV and opened the passenger door for her.

More unexpected gallantry.

Bemused, Emily sank into the cushy leather passenger seat as Patrick settled himself in the driver’s seat.

“Nice,” she said.

“It’s from my other life. Before teaching, when I made a living wage.”

Glancing around the luxurious interior, Emily said, “I have the feeling you and I have very different ideas of what a living wage is.”

He laughed, backing the car out of the space. “It was nice while it lasted. The money, that is.”

“What did you do?”

“I was a chemist with Porter Chemical.”

“I imagine that was interesting.”

“No, you don’t.”

Emily was taken aback for a second. Then she chuckled. “You’re right. It sounds pretty boring to me. But I imagine it’s interesting to the serious, scientific types.”

“Is that how I strike you?” He sounded pleased.

“Yes.”

“There are worse things than being serious.”

“But there’s such a thing as being too serious.”

He glanced at her before pulling out onto Cedar. “It’s a balance I guess I haven’t achieved.”

“Why’d you decide to stay on at the school permanently?”

He shrugged. “It fit. You ever have an experience like that, where things just seemed right?”

“Yeah, both of my marriages.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

“You’ve been married twice?”

Nodding, she said, “And each time I thought it was forever.”

A few minutes later, Patrick parked the SUV in front of a ranch-style home with an immaculate front yard. He let the motor idle.

Turning to her, his gaze was solemn. “You’re very real, Emily. You don’t play games. I admire that in a person.”

This side of him rattled her. He’d said he admired her, loudmouthed Emily, mother of Jason-who-sets-mouse-traps-in-teachers’-desks.

Thanking him seemed over the top, so she opted for a smile of gratitude.

“Let’s go.” He reached into the backseat to retrieve his backpack, which brought him entirely too close.

Emily opened the door and stepped out before he got the idea he needed to open the door for her. Or an even weirder idea, like kissing her.

And, yet, she was disappointed when she was no longer cocooned in the car with him. It was as if they’d been in an alternate reality, where they could talk like any other two people.

He cupped her elbow as they walked to the front door. “You mind doing the talking?”

“Since I’m the trustworthy one, I guess I’d better.”

He chuckled, the sound coming entirely too close for comfort in the dark. “See, you say what you’re thinking.”

“That’s not always a good thing.”

“Probably not. But at least a guy knows where he stands with you.”

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but closed it. Instead, she knocked on the Bigelows’ door.

A blond girl who looked to be about nine opened the door.

“Hi, honey, is your father home?” Emily asked.

The girl nodded and disappeared, leaving the door ajar.

At Emily’s house, one of her kids would have simply bellowed her name from the doorway. She wondered if this was how well-mannered children answered the door.

A man came to the door. Tall, blond and muscular, he looked just like Emily expected—high school home-coming court royalty, only aged fifteen years.

“May I help you?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Mr. Bigelow. I’m Emily Patterson and I’ve taken over as PTO president at Elmwood. And this is Patrick Stevens, PTO adviser.” It wasn’t a lie, really. He’d given her quite a bit of advice in the past couple days. “Please accept our condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you.”

When they didn’t move to leave, Mr. Bigelow frowned. “What can I do for you? I already gave Tiffany’s files to Mrs. Ross.”

“I know and I’m so sorry to intrude at a time like this. But I need to look at the PTO notes Tiffany kept on her PC. They’re probably more complete than the file I was given.”

“Now’s not a good time. My daughters and I were on our way out.”

Patrick stepped forward. “We can copy the files onto a disk. It’ll only take a moment.”

“Come to think of it, Tiffany might have it on disk already. Let me check.” He didn’t invite them in, simply shut the door with the promise of returning in a minute.

Emily looked at Patrick.

He shrugged.

They waited what seemed more like five hours, but was probably about five minutes.

“Yep, here it is.” Bigelow leaned out the door and handed Emily a floppy disk. “Marked PTO. You can have it. Hope it helps. Bye.”

“Thank you. And I’m very sorry—”

The door shut in her face before Emily could apologize again for disturbing him.

“Come on.” Patrick nodded toward the car.

When they’d walked several yards, Emily mused, “Did it seem as if he wanted to get rid of us?”

“He was in a hurry. We caught him on his way out the door.”

“Yes…but, still, he seemed a little odd.”

Patrick stopped walking. “Grief will do that to a person.” His voice was low.

Somehow, Emily got the impression he was speaking from experience. “Yes, it will.”

He started walking again.

She resisted the urge to ask him who he grieved for. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything interesting on the disk.”

He was silent for a moment, until they reached the SUV, where he again opened the passenger door for her. “How about if I let you know if there’s anything interesting on the disk?”

“Absolutely not. I didn’t pester that poor man only to get secondhand information from you.”

“I’m not letting that disk out of my sight. At least not until I make a copy. My place isn’t too far from here. We can stop, make a copy and I’ll drop you off at your car.”

Emily glanced at her watch and groaned. “It’s almost nine o’clock and Jason probably didn’t put the kids to bed on time. How about if I make a copy and drop it off at school tomorrow?”

“No way.”

“You’re the one who said I was trustworthy.” She raised her chin.

“I said you seemed trustworthy.”

“Thanks a bunch.”

He stepped closer. “Look, I’ve got a lot riding on this Sea World trip.”

His proximity flustered her. Emily would have agreed to nearly anything to get him to back off. “Fine. Why don’t you drop me off at my van, then follow me to my house. I’ll make you a copy of the disk.”

The dome light cast a weak yellow glow over her shoulder, revealing only his profile. But there was enough light for Emily to see him wince, as if he’d rather do anything than be in her home. Maybe it should have struck her as funny, but instead, it made her sad.

“Or the offer’s still open—I can drop off a copy at school first thing tomorrow morning. Those are your choices.”