A Mother's Reflection

“Hey, don’t aim those fake nails at me,” Megan said, not moving from her perch. “I was only doing what he asked me to do, showing Rachel around. And it’s not dangerous in here. Farley’s way upstage. It’s not like he’s going to drop a hammer on anyone’s head.”

The woman directed her attention to Rachel. “So you’re the new teacher,” she said coolly. “I’m Erika Johnson.”

“Rachel Hartwell. I’m glad to meet you. I understand we’ll be working together. And please don’t be angry with Megan. She’s been so helpful. She’s been giving me a tour.”

Rachel made a quick assessment of the woman standing next to her. Erika was poised and sophisticated in a raw silk jacket that closed in a deep vee, and a matching midlength skirt that was slit down the side. Definitely out of place in this dangerous war zone, Rachel thought.

Two gray eyes bored through her. “You must have misunderstood,” Erika said. “We won’t be working together. You’ll be reporting to me.” She turned to face Megan. “Your father had a phone call. There was a minor crisis involving your grandmother, but it’s nothing you need to worry about. He had to go home, but he’ll be back later to pick you up.”

“Nothing I need to worry about? She’s my grandmother!”

“Don’t shout at me, Megan. Those were his words, not mine.”

“Yeah, right. Hey, Ricky, I’ve got a great idea. Maybe you can send Grandma away to boarding school, too. Oops, I forgot. They don’t ship grandmothers off to boarding schools the way they do kids. They lock them away in homes.”

“Watch that mouth of yours,” Erika retorted. Then, as though catching herself before she went too far, her voice took on a sugary tone. “That’s our Megan for you,” she said to Rachel, “always the drama queen. She’s one talented little girl.”

“Little snot, you mean. Admit it, Ricky, you can’t wait to get rid of me.”

Erika blew out an exasperated breath. “I refuse to get into this again, especially in front of a stranger. In any case, rehearsal is about to start. They’re all waiting for you in the cafeteria.”

Megan hopped off the crate. “See what I mean? Even now she’s trying to get rid of me. You coming, Rachel?”

“You go on ahead. I have to fill out some papers for Doreen, and then later, when your father returns, I have to meet with him to discuss the costume budget.”

Megan set off down the aisle. “If you’ll excuse me,” Rachel said to Erika, “I’d better get started on that paperwork.”

“Just one minute.”

What now? Rachel thought.

“I realize that Megan can be a handful, but I don’t want you giving her extra attention. For one thing, it wouldn’t be fair to the other children, and as a friend of the family, I can tell you that extra attention is precisely what that child doesn’t need.”

Who did this woman think she was, talking to her this way? This was the woman who had Adam’s undivided attention? This was the woman who presumed to take on the role of Megan’s mother? “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact there is. Let me remind you that Mr. Wessler is a very busy man, so I would appreciate it if you directed all your questions to me. And that includes any questions regarding the budget—although I fail to see how the financial details of this center are any of your concern.”

Erika was acting like a jealous shrew. Which was crazy, Rachel thought. Or was it? She hadn’t missed the frosty way the other woman had scrutinized her. Although Rachel wanted to tell this impossible woman exactly what she thought of her, she held back. Her sounding off would only get back to Adam, resulting in an invitation to leave. “I see,” she said in a controlled voice.

“There’s one more thing. Adam is very particular about the image he wants this center to project, and I don’t want anything to embarrass him. He mentioned that you were a few minutes late for your interview. The ceremony is at seven-thirty tomorrow evening. Please don’t be late.”

“Ceremony?” Rachel said, confused. “What ceremony?”

“The center’s official opening. Friday night, seven-thirty sharp. Didn’t you see the signs on the wall?”

No, but Rachel could see the proverbial handwriting, all too clearly. It was warning her that Erika was someone to be reckoned with. “No, I guess I missed them. But it doesn’t make any difference. I won’t be going.”

“Oh? You have something better to do?”

“I’d like to come, but I don’t have…I didn’t bring…”

“The attire tomorrow is casual. This is Middlewood, not Hollywood. No one dresses up here. Even that old suit you’re wearing would be adequate.”

What did she mean by “that old suit”? Who made her the fashion police? “I guess I can dig something up,” Rachel said, wanting to tell this woman where she and her attitude could go.

“Good. Now that you and I understand each other, I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.”

Oh, we’ll get along, Rachel thought. As long as I stay out of your way and you stay out of mine. Except that staying out of each other’s way would be impossible now that they would be working together.

Correction. Rachel would be working for her. That, Erika had made clear.

Rachel was still angry when she handed the completed paperwork to Doreen.

“You’ve met Erika,” the older woman said, grimacing.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Try not to let her get to you. She likes to think she runs this place, but there’s one thing about Adam you should know. At times he might seem like a pushover, but don’t let that fool you. No one tells him what to do.”

“What are you getting at, Doreen?”

“I’m saying that Erika is all bark and no bite.”

Maybe so, Rachel thought as she made her way back to Adam’s office, but until she knew exactly what kind of enemy she was dealing with, she would play it safe.

And Erika was an enemy. She was making Megan unhappy, and that alone was enough cause for Rachel to call out the National Guard.

Adam wasn’t in his office, and Rachel wasn’t sure if she should wait for him or go home. When Erika had told her that all matters concerning the job were to go through her, the message had been clear: stay away from Adam. Yet if Rachel didn’t wait for him, Adam might consider her irresponsible. She was in a no-win situation.

She looked at her watch. Good heavens, it was nearly five! The paperwork had taken longer than she’d thought. Well, that decided it. He’d said he wanted to meet in an hour, and an hour had long passed. She headed down the corridor, noting that all the windows had been shut. At the front door she stopped and groaned.

A little rain she could handle, but a person would need more than an umbrella in this weather. She would need a rowboat. Rachel had no choice but to wait it out.

To pass the time, she decided to check out the rink. She went back into the main corridor and found her way to the indoor passageway that led from the center to the arena.

She peered through a small oval window. Inside the arena all the lights were on, and she felt a twinge of disappointment. If she’d known it was open, she would have brought her skates.

Now that would have looked ridiculous, she thought, grinning. Who brought skates to an interview?

She opened the metal door and went inside. What was that noise? Whish, whish, clunk sounded over and over, a pattern in her ears. Curious, she walked over to the bleachers and sat down.

On the ice, Adam was swinging a hockey stick as though it were a weapon. He’d changed into sweatpants and a sleeveless jersey. Tied by its arms around his waist, a sweatshirt hung down like a backward apron. He was shooting pucks, one after the other, smashing them against the sideboards. After exhausting his supply of artillery, he would gather it up and start the process over again.

Rachel’s nurturing instinct switched on like a light-bulb. Here was a man with a problem. Here was a man in pain.

She watched him steadily, mesmerized by the way he would glide across the ice and then suddenly stop to make his hit. Whish, whish, clunk. He wasn’t a bad skater, she decided. Her gaze followed him as he moved across the rink. The suit he’d worn earlier had concealed his muscular build, his massive shoulders, his athletic stance. She found herself wondering what it would be like dancing with him on the ice, being lifted into the air by those powerful arms, feeling his hands gripping her waist….

She pushed the thought aside. It was a ludicrous notion. Besides, hockey wasn’t figure skating. She doubted if Adam Wessler could adapt to a different set of rules—even if it was just about skating. He was a stickler, all right. She couldn’t believe he had hired her after she’d had the audacity to show up late for her interview! My, my, a full minute late—the minute she had spent outside the tall glass doors of the center, deliberating whether to turn around and run. It also irked her that he had mentioned her tardiness to Erika. The two of them deserved each other, with their picky ways.

Erika, picky? Another word came to mind, but Rachel was loath to repeat it. Just what was that woman’s problem? Erika had acted as though she considered Rachel a personal threat. As if Rachel could be interested in a man so…fastidious. Not in this lifetime, no matter how many scars he had.

Erika had it all wrong. She was the threat, not Rachel. As far as Rachel was concerned, anyone who even looked the wrong way at Megan was a threat, and Erika had done more than her share of glowering.

If Rachel honestly believed that Erika cared for Megan, she would back off, as painful as that would be. She would pack her bags and head back to Hartford. All she really wanted was to make sure her child had a mother watching over her, someone who had Megan’s best interest at heart. Adam was Megan’s legal father, and he had a right to choose whomever he wanted as his wife.

Unless his choice was wrong. Unless the woman he chose was planning to stash his daughter—Rachel’s daughter—away in some boarding school.

“No one tells him what to do,” Doreen had said.

Maybe no one could tell him what to do, but Erika was talking and he seemed to be listening. Maybe Adam and Erika deserved each other, but there was no way Rachel would allow that woman to have a say in Megan’s life.

As though sensing her presence, Adam looked up. She smiled and waved.