The Mistresses: Make-Believe Mistress. Katherine Garbera
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had the beginnings of a headache, no doubt brought on by the pressure of trying to convince the board not to close the school. But she thought the intensity that Adam had shown her was also a part of it. She’d wanted him for a long time and now it seemed he was finally noticing her as a woman.
Why?
She sighed and searched around for the budget file that Jose had made notes on.
“Bruce, have you seen my budget file?” she called out the door.
“I put it on the corner of your desk before we left for the meeting,” her assistant replied.
Grace went back to her desk and picked up a pile of folders, suddenly remembering that she’d put a story she’d meant to enter in a romance writing contest in a similar folder.
Oh, my God.
Frantic, she started searching through all the folders, not finding the budget report or her story “Adam’s Mistress.”
Oh, this was so not good. She had absolutely no excuse to have printed the document out here at work, but her printer at home was almost eight years old and it was difficult to find printer ink for it. Currently, she was out.
There was a knock on the door and she glanced up. Jose stood there with a folder in his hand. A folder that was identical to … well, every other folder in her office, since they purchased folders in bulk.
Calm down, Grace.
“Got a minute?”
“Sure,” she said, amazed that her voice sounded so calm and serene when inside she was ready to scream.
“I grabbed the budget report to double-check over lunch. I think we need to reevaluate the funds we have.”
She was partially relieved that Jose was holding the budget and not her story. “Please tell me we have more money than we thought.”
“I wish I could.”
She sank down in her chair and gestured for Jose to come farther into the room. “I think we’re going to need fifty thousand to make it until the end of the school year.”
“That’s a lot of car washes,” she said. The school had never held many fundraisers. They had a golf tournament every year in the fall to raise funds. But parents and alumni had already contributed to that.
“The kids are willing to participate to some extent, but the one thing we haven’t slipped on is our academic excellence.”
She understood what Jose was saying. If they asked the students to start participating in a variety of fundraising activities, it would distract them from their studies.
“I have a meeting tomorrow morning with Sue-Ellen. I think the parents will be a great resource for this. Jose, will you please call our alumni president and see if he’s available tomorrow at ten?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks,” she said. As Jose got up and left her office, she sank back into the chair. The next few months were going to be difficult. And she had to find that story she’d printed out.
She didn’t need the additional worry that a student would find it. Or worse, Sue-Ellen or Malcolm.
Oh, no. What if Adam had found it?
Was that why he’d taken her to lunch and said he’d help her with the school? Was he setting her up for a private meeting where he’d tell Malcolm about the story and fire her?
She had no time to dwell on that possibility as she spent the afternoon meeting with individual board members. Meetings that Adam had set up for her. The support she garnered was worth the time she spent with them.
The afternoon went by quickly. She had a small break and searched every inch of her office but couldn’t find her story. Jose e-mailed her his ideas for their fund shortage, and they were all really good.
“Grace, Dawn O’Shea called while you were in a meeting. She wants to talk to you about possibly getting her job back.” Bruce hovered in her doorway uncertainly.
“I can’t talk to her today,” Grace said. She felt sorry for Dawn, losing her job and her husband. But Dawn’s actions had greatly hurt the school, and saving Tremmel-Bowen was Grace’s priority.
“I told her you’d call next week.”
“Thanks.”
Bruce left at six. Grace researched fundraising ideas on the Internet and sent a few links to Jose and Sue-Ellen. She glanced up from her computer at seven-thirty when she heard voices in the outer office. Her head ached at the thought of how much work she still had to do.
The missing story scared her. It had the potential to put all the work she’d done today to save the school to waste. At least she hadn’t put her real name on it as the author. But the characters’ names—Adam and Grace—were pretty damning. She’d have to change those before she submitted it anywhere. If she submitted it.
She knew her assistant would rush back to help her if she called him. But she didn’t exactly want Bruce searching her office for that file folder.
“Grace? Got a minute?”
Adam stood in her doorway with Malcolm just behind him. The smile of welcome froze on her face as she noted the file folder held loosely in his hands.
The sinking feeling in her stomach grew as she waited for Malcolm or Adam to speak. She was a nervous wreck and she hated that. This was her domain. The one place in the world that she’d found where she really fit.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
“Ms. Stephens, do you have time to discuss your financial plan with me now?” Malcolm asked.
She wanted to say no. But she wasn’t going to turn away from the olive branch that Malcolm offered. All day long she’d heard from other board members that the decision to keep the school open had to be unanimous, so if Malcolm wasn’t on board by the end of the school year, Tremmel-Bowen would be closed.
“Sure. I was just about to order some dinner, can I get something for you both?”
“We won’t be that long. We can go down to the conference room so we’ll have more room.”
Grace followed Malcolm down the hall. She empathized with him. She would want to shut down the school as well if she were in Malcolm’s shoes. Betrayal. It was one thing she understood better than most.
Adam dropped behind to speak to the night-maintenance supervisor and Grace found herself alone with Malcolm. She explained the shortage error they’d just found and then spent forty-five minutes arguing over the tiniest details in the budget. Grace was careful to keep her temper, but she was beginning to believe it was going to be impossible to convince Malcolm to give the school a reprieve.
In the back of her mind was the fear that all the work that she and Adam had done today would be undone by her story surfacing somewhere. She thought of all the people who’d been in and out of her office throughout the day. She’d had the student council representatives in there and, to be honest, she would be even more horrified if one of them had found the folder than if Adam had.
“Ms. Stephens, if you aren’t going to pay attention you’re just wasting our time.”
“I am paying attention. I don’t see this as a waste of time.”
“I do,” he said. She felt the noose tighten and realized that Malcolm might have given in until the end of semester but beyond that he wasn’t vested in seeing the school survive.
She reached across the table and touched the back of his hand. He glanced up at her. “Yes?”
“What can I say to you?”
He didn’t pretend not to understand her. “Nothing. I’m sorry, Grace. I have a lot of respect for you personally but I can’t get around the fact that this