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.
Though her door was open, Mark Hathaway rapped his fist against the doorjamb, looking tentative. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting a phone call or anything,” he said as he walked back into the office. Instead of regaining his seat, he stood behind the chair, shifting his weight.
“I asked Roberta to hold my calls until after we talked to Vicki. I figure she’ll be unnerved enough without having to sweat it out while I’m talking to someone else. Barring any sudden emergencies on campus, you two have my undivided attention.”
Frankly, Mark Hathaway probably had women’s undivided attention no matter where he went. Now that she’d been able to put a face with the name, it was a bit surprising that this man “never ever” went on dates. Was his daughter exaggerating? Or was he still in mourning for his late wife?
Shay cleared her throat. “Mr. Hathaway, I apologize if this is a difficult question, but do you mind if I ask when your wife passed? I’m just trying to get a handle on Vicki’s state of mind.”
His knuckles tightened on the back of the chair. “About two years ago. She—”
“Ms. Morgan?” The secretary’s voice crackled through the phone on Shay’s desk. “I’m sending back Vicki Hathaway now.”
“Thank you.” Shay stood and returned to the table by the door so that they could all sit together.
A little girl who looked absolutely nothing like Mark appeared in the doorway. Judging from their facial features, one wouldn’t even guess them related. Where his dark hair was silky, her ginger-colored hair was a profusion of curls. Shay’s hair had always been naturally straight, requiring determined use of a curling iron and lots of hair spray to achieve any kind of body. Vicki Hathaway was adorable and, Shay suspected, probably a miniature of Mark Hathaway’s late wife. Did it comfort him, seeing part of Mrs. Hathaway live on, or did looking at a version of her face make him miss her even more keenly?
Vicki’s chin was bravely raised even though her lower lip quivered and her brown eyes were huge with trepidation. “Hi, Daddy.”
Still standing, he turned to wrap an arm around his daughter’s slim shoulder. “Hi, Bug.”
“Would you like to sit down with us, Vicki?” Shay pointed to the empty seat between herself and Mark. “I’m Principal Morgan.”
Vicki nodded solemnly.
“Do you know why your dad and I want to talk to you?” Shay asked softly.
Vicki slouched down in the chair.
