a pair of boots.”
“I guess.”
“And a coat. Winters can be brutal here.”
The little girl who had been hanging on Clark’s coat when she arrived stood in the front foyer. Wearing a pink hooded jacket and little white mittens, she looked both adorable and warm.
“This is Teagan.”
The little girl’s gaze dipped to the marble floor, so Althea stooped in front of her. “Hey, Teagan.”
“Teagan, this is Ms. Johnson. She’s the lady interviewing to be Jack’s teacher.”
Teagan continued to look at the floor.
“It was nice to meet you, Teagan.” She rose. Sometimes it was best to give a child her space. Eventually, she’d warm up to her. Kids always did. With a quick smile at Teagan, she continued on to the kitchen.
Clark plopped his bags of groceries on the center island. Dark wood cabinets should have given the room a gloomy feel, but the cheerful white marble countertops and warm oak hardwood floors took care of that. So did the huge windows by the wooden table that provided a spectacular view of the mountains behind the house.
“Wow.”
“Thank my wife for that view. She found this land, created the design for this house.”
“She’s got a real eye for things.” She turned from the windows just as a boy of about twelve walked into the kitchen, the big black dog on his heels.
“Dad, did you get that ham I asked for?” When he saw Althea, he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Yes, I got the ham.” He faced Althea. “Althea, that’s my son, Jack.” He turned to Jack. “Jack, this is Althea Johnson. As soon as I get these groceries put away I’m going to interview her to see if she can become your new teacher.”
Taking a bag of cans to the pantry, Clark continued putting away the groceries. Big black dog by his side, Jack stood where he’d stopped, sizing her up.
Usually she wasn’t afraid of a twelve-year-old boy, especially not one so handsome. Shaggy brown hair and big brown eyes like his dad’s gave him an angelic choir-boy appearance. But he also had an odd expression on his face. Almost as if he were strategizing how to get her fired—and she hadn’t even taken the job.
Clark came out of the pantry. “Okay, I’ll make sandwiches. Jack, you finish with the groceries and then I can interview—” He stopped, faced Althea again. “I’m sorry. You’d said you hadn’t eaten yet.”
“I haven’t.”
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll make cocoa for the kids and then coffee for us before I make the sandwiches. Jack and Teagan can eat out here. We’ll take our lunches into the den and we’ll talk while we eat.”
She wasn’t the kind of person who got cozy so quickly with strangers. But when she’d turned over the new leaf about her life a few months back, she’d promised herself she’d stop being so cautious. Plus she was extremely hungry. The thought of a cup of coffee and a sandwich made her taste buds dance for joy.
Clark walked to the counter, opened a rollaway door and pulled out a coffeemaker. Feeling odd with nothing to do, she said, “I could put on the pot of coffee if you show me how.”
On his way to the counter to get the groceries, Jack snorted a laugh. Clark faced her with a smile. “This is a single-serve coffeemaker. I can make two cups of cocoa for the kids and an individual cup of coffee for each of us.”
“Oh.” And didn’t she feel stupid?
While the first cup of cocoa brewed, Clark whipped around the kitchen, gathering bread and ham and retrieving milk for the coffee from the fridge, along with condiments for their sandwiches. Teagan crawled up on one of the stools beside the center island where Clark opened the deli meat and a loaf of bread. The dog clip-clopped over to her, soundlessly parking herself beside Teagan’s tall chair. Outside, the snow continued to fall. Big, beautiful white flakes on a huge, silent mountain.
Silent.
She glanced around. That’s what bothered her. It was as quiet in here as it was outside. Jack had put away the few things his father had directed him to, but he said nothing. Teagan sat on one of the tall chairs by the center island, just watching as Clark raced around, going between the coffeemaker and the refrigerator, gathering things for the sandwiches.
“Can I help with anything?”
“No. No. I’m fine. I’m accustomed to doing this.”
Doing what? Getting lunch? Having quiet kids? Being a one-person whirlwind of activity? Because it was Tuesday, Althea suspected his wife was at work. So maybe when she was around everything was noisier?
With the ham, bread and condiments on the center island, Clark motioned for her to come over. “Fix yourself a sandwich while I make Teagan’s cocoa.”
She walked over, put bread on a paper plate and noticed Teagan watching her, her dark brown eyes cautious, curious. “I can make your sandwich first.”
The little girl buried her face in the dirty pink bear she held. Though they’d been in the house ten minutes, she still wore her jacket with the hood on her head and her mittens on her hands.
Clark hustled over. She tugged on his shirtsleeve and he leaned down.
She whispered something in his ear.
He said, “Okay,” and went back to the coffee/cocoa maker. “We don’t have that flavor.”
Her lips turned down in an adorable pout, as she slid her hood off. Her hair was as dark as her eyes. The pale pink coat she wore accented both. As pretty as a princess, she blinked at Althea.
“I can help you with your coat, if you want.”
Teagan’s gaze whipped to her dad. He walked over with a cup of cocoa. “I’ll get her coat. You just finish making your sandwich.”
Teagan tugged on his shirtsleeve again. He leaned down. She whispered in his ear.
Baffled, Althea stopped slathering mayonnaise on her bread. Not only did the little girl think it normal to talk only to her dad and only in a whisper, but also Clark was so accustomed to it, he automatically leaned down to listen.
“Sure. We have marshmallows.”
She almost asked Clark about it. But she knew kids hated it when adults talked about them as if they weren’t in the room. Any minute now she and Clark would go into the den for her interview. She could ask him then. Delicately of course.
“Jack, do you want to make your sandwich now, too, so that I can put all this stuff back in the fridge before we go into the den?”
Jack walked over, grabbed some bread and ham and fixed his sandwich without a word.
Althea’s eyebrows rose. She’d taught middle school for six years. She knew twelve-year-olds. They were sassy, moody, and the boys were always hungry. They didn’t
