His Two Little Blessings

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There was a dejected quality to his normally mellow voice, and she frowned. “Why not?”

“I’m a numbers guy, remember?”

“You don’t have to be just a numbers guy,” she pointed out. “You could do something creative as a hobby.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “What’s a hobby?”

“Something you do for fun.” When she realized he’d simply been making a point about how hectic his life was, she felt silly for answering him that way. “What do you do for fun?”

“The girls are my fun. Without them—” He shrugged as if he honestly didn’t know what he’d do without Caitlin and Aubrey to break up his work routine.

“So you wouldn’t go to a crafts show on your own?”

“No.”

His voice had taken on a sudden strained quality, and she wondered what she’d done to bring on such a terse response. He seemed to appreciate her artwork, so it wasn’t that he had no interest in that sort of thing. Then it hit her, and she realized that Sarah must have been the creative influence on their daughters.

Emma tried desperately to come up with something to say, but nothing seemed appropriate for someone she barely knew. And especially not surrounded by people who might overhear their conversation. So she decided the best option was to change the subject. “Could you tell me again how to run the slide show?”

“Sure.” Opening the sleek laptop he’d brought with him, he took a cable from his bag and clicked to start the program. “Plug this into the console up front and it will connect the computer to the projector. Hit the enter key when you want to move ahead, and it will keep pace with you. That way you control the speed of it so you have time to answer any questions that come up while you’re talking.”

The mere idea of fielding unexpected inquiries made her queasy. “Do you really think they’re going to ask me anything?”

“I have no idea, but I’ve learned that it’s always better to be prepared in case they do.”

“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, she cast a worried glance around at the room that was much fuller now than it had been when she arrived. She recognized most of the attendees, which gave her a little boost of confidence. “I know almost everyone here. That should help.”

“That’s the spirit. You handle dozens of kids every day, which I think is much harder than giving a ten-minute talk. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Everyone has their talents, Emma mused, flattered that he seemed to value hers so highly. Many people assumed that working with kids was like playtime, and it was nice to know he respected how challenging her job could be.

Fortunately for her, she was the first agenda item after the usual greeting and the vote to accept the minutes from last month’s session. So she gathered her courage, picked up Rick’s laptop and went to the front of the room.

Glancing out into the audience, she found his steady gaze, and he gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. That small gesture helped her immensely, and she faced the school board with a smile.

“Good evening, and thank you for letting me come in to speak to you.” Shifting her view from them to the assembly, she went on, “Since you can read the agenda on the whiteboard, you all know why I’m here. Unless there are questions, I’ll get started.”

No one asked her anything, but a couple of the board members traded quizzical looks. Instinct told her something was up, but it wasn’t her place to address them, so she put aside her misgivings and cued up the slides that Rick had helped her create. One covered the reasonable cost of the program compared with other after-school activities in the surrounding area. Another detailed the loose curriculum that governed the sessions, to show that it provided the kids with more than pure entertainment.

Finally, she reached the slides that Rick had put into a repetitive loop, showing off the projects they’d decided best showcased the tangible results of the artistic program. This section included sound she’d recorded at various shows she’d organized throughout the past year. They allowed the people there to hear comments from students and their parents about how much they loved the program and would miss it if the school decided not to renew it.

Following her mother’s advice, Emma paused on the final slide—a sixth-grader’s Impressionist-style rendition of Liberty Creek’s iconic covered bridge. It wasn’t Monet, but the boy’s talent was obvious, and she hoped that it would convince the board to continue funding for the program that was so dear to her heart. “So, does anyone have questions for me?”

She fielded the usual ones about whether costs would rise and was pleased to have Rick’s numbers to back up her assurance that they would remain the same. Some wondered how she planned to change the offerings for the coming year, and everyone seemed more than satisfied with her responses.

Except for the board, she noticed.

There were more of those awkward looks, and a woman she’d known her entire life actually stared down at her folded hands while Emma was speaking. She had no idea what might be bothering them, but she returned to where Rick was sitting and picked up her messenger bag to go.

“Let’s stick around,” he murmured.

“Why?”

“Just a feeling,” he replied cryptically. “Something’s going on, and my hunch is we’d be smart to hang around and find out what it is.”