I take a deep breath. “I refute these claims completely except for my involvement with my pupil, Connor Wolfe. We unexpectedly developed a relationship. However, our contract was over when we made things official.”
“We will consider whether to suggest you resign.”
“I understand. But did you have the opportunity to review the emails I sent each of you earlier?”
The four members of the Board nod and one opens a laptop. “Yes, we did and are surprised Mrs. Harrow made such outrageous claims against you when it is clear she is the one diverting advertising money from the school, funneling it into fake accounts registered under false names, and then forwarding it to her private foreign accounts.” The board member looks up over wire-rimmed glasses.
A second board member adds, “We were able to confirm the paper trail.”
Regina blanches, sputters, and then pushes from her chair and hurries out of the room.
That woman is a troll. How delusional could she be to think she could pass off thefts like those to me? A little twinge of victory sparks inside, but the ever-widening pit of worry that threatens to swallow me whole surges. I may no longer have a job. Despite Connor’s salary, I need something of my own.
The board assures me they’ll be taking legal action against Regina.
“If I were to resign, may I recommend a replacement?” I ask. “Gemma Forbes, my previous assistant, is brilliant, knows everything about my role, and has some forward-thinking ideas for how to move the school into the global, internet-based community.” Gemma and I spoke again and I gave her the heads up that a position might be opening soon at Blancbourg.
“Ms. Berghier, in light of all of this, we have to commend you for many years of loyal service as well as successfully registering the manor as a historic site.”
I nod at the triumph that’s mostly thanks to Connor. Had he not thought of that, I wouldn’t have been able to help in such an impactful way. As I get to my feet, the reality of being free, of having the opportunity to do whatever I want, battles against the emptiness of the risk I’m about to take.
“Ms. Berghier, we want to thank you for fighting for Blancbourg,” one of the regents says.
“And may I ask,” the lone woman on the board says, “If you don’t remain here, what’s next for you?”
A familiar, excited tingling works its way across my skin. Unable to help it, I sashay toward the door and do agrand jeté. “I’m going to dance.” I gave it up to find myself and it’ll be the thing that brings me back to myself.
Connor waits for me in the hallway. He extends his hand for me to take. It fits perfectly inside and we step into the sunny afternoon.
“Where to first?” he asks as we begin our homey-moon—our house-hunting adventure in Concordia. I learn that a homey-moon is not to be confused with moon-gate or what Connor said is a trip with his homies, aka the guys. It’s a stay-at-home honeymoon, kind of like a staycation, but ours has a little twist.
“I can’t wait to play tourists, visiting the regional sites as well as looking for a nest to call our own. There are so many options—a home in the mountains, the seaside, or in the village...”
“And some of the historic buildings,” Connor adds, confirming an appreciation for Concordia’s history.
“But when we find a house we love, we’re going to settle in and make it our own.”
“I like the sound of that. First, how about we go get a pretzel, Mrs. Wolfe?”
“Didn’t expect you to be hungry, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Everything changed that afternoon we stopped by the bakery.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“It’s when I realized you’re the only woman I want.”
My smile reaches my eyes. “And you have me. I’m all yours.”
Our lips dance together in a kiss that promises many to come...and yes, they still make me weak in the knees.
When we part, Connor smirks because he knows the effect he has on me. But my grin isn’t far behind because he knows he finally won by making me Mrs. Wolfe.
EPILOGUE
In much the same way that I’d poured myself into solving the mystery of the missing money at Blancbourg, I also work tirelessly to get my new business up and running.
Madam Tissot, the former owner of the ballet school, was incredibly gracious and relieved she wasn’t letting all of her dancers down after years of teaching. She passed me the keys to the studio along with her client roster when she retired. How to run the place is another story, but so far the transition has been relatively seamless.
