flashed briefly in the other woman’s eyes. “My, my, but you do take a lot on yourself, don’t you? Why does everything have to be about you?”
“Because I honestly think that’s your motivation in this, Gloria. What’s more, it always has been, ever since I came to Crystal Creek.”
Don’t do this, Lucia told herself. Don’t let her get to you.
But Gloria was staring at her angrily. Two red spots flared in her cheeks. “You think you’re so important,” she said. “Walking around with your head in the air like some kind of fashion model, looking down on everybody as if we’re a bunch of peasants. Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, would it?”
“I really don’t think we should bring this to the level of personal conflict.” Lucia struggled to retain her composure. “Not when the welfare of the student body is at stake.”
“The kids in this town got along fine before you ever came here.” Gloria heaved herself from her chair and marched toward the door. “And they’ll get along just fine after you’re gone.”
“The townspeople will never agree to give up their middle school,” Lucia said, with more confidence than she felt.
Gloria paused in the doorway, “When the people hear the school board’s side, they’re going to agree it’s the only way to cut costs. They’ll vote with us, just you wait and see.”
Then she was gone in a swirl of flowered cotton, leaving Lucia staring at the closed door.
THE REST OF THE MORNING passed in a blur of pain and confusion. Lucia went about her duties mechanically, avoiding Leslie’s speculative glances and the sympathetic gaze of Jean Mulder, the other secretary, who had always been kind to Lucia.
She spent her noon hour supervising in the cafeteria, a task she’d taken upon herself to give the teachers some much-needed preparation time, since their weekly spare periods had been swallowed up in the new round of budget cuts.
However, Lucia didn’t detest cafeteria supervision nearly as much as most of her teachers, probably because the students were a little frightened of her and tended to behave well in her presence. They sat quietly over their lunches, glancing at her surreptitiously as she worked at a table near the door. As soon as possible they collected their trash, dumped it and escaped outside to the playground.
After the lunch hour, Lucia returned to her office, closed the door and opened a brown paper sack on her desk, taking out an egg-salad sandwich and a banana. She ate without tasting the food, lost in her tumult of thoughts.
Uppermost in her mind was sorrow over the possible loss of the school, and guilt about her own part in the matter. Regardless of the chairwoman’s protestations, Lucia knew this action by the school board had its beginnings in personal animosity.
And those hard feelings, she thought gloomily, were mostly her own fault.
Somehow she’d offended Gloria Wall, simply by being what she was. Everything about Lucia seemed to anger the woman.
Of course she couldn’t change her physical self, but maybe if Lucia had been warmer and more willing to mingle with the community, perhaps the students of Crystal Creek wouldn’t be losing a school that had served the community for almost ninety years.
Lucia put the sandwich down on its waxed-paper wrapping and buried her face in her hands, trying to think calmly.
Somehow she had to launch a campaign to convince the townspeople that their middle school was vital, and that budget restraints were not a good enough reason to tear the heart out of a community. Furthermore, she had to do it before March, when Gloria said they were intending to hold their civic plebiscite.
But that brought another thought into her mind, and made her groan aloud in despair.
Because when March rolled around, she was going to be…
Lucia took a notepad from the desk and jotted some dates and numbers, then stared at them bleakly.
In March she would be five months pregnant.
“Oh, God,” she whispered aloud, staring at the dusty lilac bushes beyond the window. “What in the world am I going to do?”
She felt a sudden deep yearning for somebody to talk with, a friend to share the pain and help her deal with all this. But Lucia had nobody in her life who was that close to her.
Well, there was her half sister, Isabel, of course.
Isabel Delgado had recently dropped out of nowhere to live on the Gibson farm up the river. She was married to Dan Gibson, father of one of the students in this very school. Moreover, when Lucia had run into Dan’s family at the Longhorn the previous week, Bella had looked radiant, so much in love that her face and body had seemed almost incandescent. Bella and Dan had been married for about a month now, and their happiness showed.
The memory of her younger sister’s newfound contentment made Lucia feel both happy and wistful. It would be such a huge relief to talk with Bella and confide all her troubles. But Lucia had her reasons for avoiding all contact with her family for over ten years, and she didn’t want to reinstate those relationships now. Not even with sweet little Bella.
Sometimes she chatted with June Pollock, her quiet landlady, who hid a warm heart under a brusque manner. But their conversations were casual and superficial, just friendly exchanges about everyday things. The truth was, Lucia had never developed emotional closeness with anybody.
She pictured herself telling June the whole unhappy story.
I was so lonely, June. You couldn’t imagine how lonely I’ve been, and how much I want a man sometimes, just to hold me and be close to me. Until last month, do you know I hadn’t been with a man for seven years.…
She picked up the pen again and made some aimless doodles on the notepad.
It had happened at a school administration convention in Austin in September. He was based in Washington, working in the federal government on one of the education commissions, and was a guest speaker. By chance they’d been seated next to each other at the banquet, and enjoyed their conversation. Afterward they went up to the hotel’s rooftop bar and had a drink, laughed and talked about inconsequential things, all the while flirting and drawing dangerously closer to each other.
Lucia knew he was a career politician, not at all her style. And by the time they went down to her room together, she understood completely that their relationship was going to be a weekend fling and nothing more.
But after so many lonely years, she was prepared to accept that.
Desperately she craved the warmth of a man, the hard sweetness of his mouth and body, the feeling of being lost in his power.
In a way, the fleeting nature of their encounter had actually been appealing to her. Lucia didn’t want any entanglements like the kind that had been part of her long-ago marriage and messy divorce. Most especially, she didn’t want to get close to anybody because closeness always led to pain and loss.
All she wanted was a man to hold her for a while in his arms.
And the politician had been a satisfying lover for the two nights they were together. No doubt he’d been surprised by her passion, because she didn’t really
