Page 6 of Sweet Trouble
The door buzzed and he pushed it open, releasing a wave of warm, heated air.
Stepping inside, he was transported instantly back to his own childhood days spent here. Student artworkcovered the walls, and the glass door to the main office revealed the array of wooden mail cubbies and a Formica covered counter that had been there ever since he could remember. He even picked up a whiff of the citrus-scented floor wax that made him think of the squeak of his sneaker-clad feet as he flew past whichever teacher happened to be reprimanding him for running in the hall that day.
“There you are,” the secretary said happily as he stepped into the office and jotted his name on the clipboard.
“Morning, Miss Wiggins,” he said, giving her a smile. “How’s Tigger?”
She beamed and told him the latest news about her thirteen-year-old tabby cat and his many medications, all of which he had to be tricked into ingesting, and also about all the mischief he caused when he was feeling frisky.
“He’s lucky to have you,” Tripp told her when she was finished.
“No, I’m the lucky one,” Miss Wiggins said. “It’s a privilege to share your life with someone.”
Miss Wiggins had never been married, but her smile was perfectly content as she expressed her gratitude for her cat.
Tripp suddenly felt a little selfish for bemoaning his single state, even inwardly. At least he lived on the family farm with his parents and siblings all close by.
“Off you go,” she told him, winking and handing him a visitor sticker. “You know your way to the playground.”
Tripp certainly did. It was the only part ofSugarville Grove Elementary School where he’d ever felt like himself.
He headed down the hall and out the door by the cafeteria.
The wind outside had picked up and the trees shivered in the fresh breeze. He strode past the playground equipment and out to the greenhouse in the meadow.
For years, all Allie ever talked about was raising the funds to build the thing, and now she had actually managed it. With the help of an army of volunteers she had recruited from local farms and the Sugarville Grove Horticultural Club, she and the kids could finally grow vegetables and flowers all year long.
More importantly, the kids got outside, got their hands dirty, and learned where their food came from.
“Tripp,” Allie yelled happily from where she stood by the hose bib, spraying off a child’s hands.
The little boy was cracking up, and getting a little wet all over because he wasn’t standing still.
Unlike all the stick-in-the-mud elementary school teachers Tripp had over the years, Allie wasn’t making a big thing out of it. She smiled indulgently and gave him an extra second to have fun before turning off the hose and tossing the boy a towel to dry his hands.
“Okay,” she said to him, as Tripp arrived. “Now you can run to the bathroom.”
“Be right back, Mrs. Tailor,” the boy said, heading for the school building with a volunteer by his side.
Mrs. Tailor.It was so weird to hear his baby sister called that.
“So, you just hose them down, huh?” he teased her,falling into his playful mode to forget his momentary discomfort.
“Oh yeah,” she said with her usual twinkly eyed smile. “It’s why I got into teaching.”
“Pays better than working a car wash,” he said.
“Barely,” she replied, arching one eyebrow.
He chuckled at that, even though it probably wasn’t too far off.
“Really though, we do have to get their hands clean,” she told him. “Otherwise, they get dirty handprints on the walls of the school. Ask me how I know.”
“Copy that,” he said. “So, what do we got going on here? How can I help?”
“Well, we actually have a new student today,” Allie said. “And she’d like to use the watering can. Think you can give her a hand?”
“I’d be glad to,” he said with a smile.
