His Valentine Surprise. Tanya Michaels
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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