The Runaway Princess. Patricia Forsythe
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Silly, she thought. She was overreacting, that was all. Just fearful that he wouldn’t let her stay. Pushing her disturbing thoughts away, she began clearing the table.
“Jace, I think you’re overreacting,” Martha Singleton told him in a flat tone.
“You do?” Jace sat with his elbows propped on the desk as he talked to the woman who was the regular teacher of Sleepy River Community School—on the years she wasn’t having a baby.
“Yes. First of all, where are we going to find someone at this late date? If the one we hired didn’t show up and another, qualified teacher did, I don’t see that we have anything to worry about. Check her references. If they’re okay, she’s okay. Believe me when I say qualified teachers willing to teach in a one-room schoolhouse in the mountains for the amount of money we can pay aren’t exactly thick on the ground.”
Jace scratched his chin. “I guess you’re right,” he said in a reluctant drawl. He paused and he could feel Martha waiting for him to go on. In the background, he could hear her three-week-old son fussing, wanting his mother’s attention.
“So, what is the problem, then?” she asked.
Jace knew she was too polite to say so, but he was wasting her time. “No problem,” he said, with more decisiveness than he felt. “I’ll check her references. Sounds like you need to get back to that baby of yours.”
“Demanding little stinker,” she said fondly. “Tell you what, if her references check out okay, but you’re still worried, I can go watch her teach. If she’s totally incompetent, we don’t have to keep her.”
It was a slim thread, but Jace grasped it gratefully. “Sure, Martha. That sounds good. We don’t want a teacher who’s incompetent.”
Only he had a feeling Alexis wasn’t incompetent. Jace hung up the phone and gloomily stared out the window in the direction of the schoolhouse.
In spite of her tendency to run into walls, back into mailbox posts and set fires, there was something about her that seemed capable of handling anything, even the challenges of their local school.
Admit it, sucker, he thought. It wasn’t her capabilities that worried him. It was her presence, the way she had looked at him a little while ago as if she’d never seen anything like him. No doubt, she hadn’t. To him, she appeared to be accustomed to much more sophisticated surroundings than Sleepy River, Arizona.
She disturbed him, had done so since the moment he’d looked into those eyes of hers. Touching her hand had rocked him back on his heels.
He was reluctant to have her around, but as Martha had said, where were they going to find someone else at this late date? Grumbling, he reached for the phone to contact her references.
Why did it have to be Alexis Chastain, though?
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