Walker Wilaby sounded like a Stan Lee character. She leaned closer to the screen to take a better look at his profile picture. He looked away from the camera, so all she could see was a his ear and part of his profile. He had nice brown hair—it was in that in-between stage where he didn’t quite need a haircut, but she could tell he liked to wear it short. His sideburns were respectable. And his ear wasn’t bad, as far as ears go.
Landon popped out of the bathroom and grabbed his backpack off the hook by the door. “Come on. I can’t be late.”
“Pa-lease. I know a lady; she’ll fix your tardy like that.” She snapped her fingers.
He rolled his eyes. “Mom, can I walk in by myself?”
“Wha—Why?” They always walked into school together. When he was in the first grade and just starting at the Royal Belfast Academy of Seattle, he held her hand so tightly she couldn’t wear rings for fear of being crushed by his little fingers. Now he didn’t even want to walk with her.
She glanced down at the simple silver band on her right hand. The day she’d taken off her wedding ring, she’d put this one on in remembrance of the man who made her believe in love. The man who should be here to hold her as she let go of their child one small bit at a time. “Sure, buddy.”
Landon stared out the window for the ride. She dropped him off in the carpool lane, her faded blue Toyota standing out like a sore thumb between a limo and a Rolls Royce. Once she parked in her designated spot, she took her insulated sack lunch and headed for the front office.
“Morning, Mrs. Croft,” chirped Eva, an adorable third grader with downy soft blonde hair and bright green eyes.
“Morning,” she chirped back. Other children said hello and waved. “How’s your head?” she asked Bran. Yesterday, he’d decided that going down the slide backwards was a great idea.
“The doctor says I’m fine, but my nanny wouldn’t let me go to the trampoline park.”
“I’m sure you’ll go another time,” she said soothingly.
“Yeah.” He cupped his hand around his mouth. “Thanks for not telling anyone I cried.”
She widened her eyes in shock. “You did? Hmm, I don’t remember that.” His smile widened and she hurried to her desk.
“You’re happy this morning,” said Claire, her best friend and fellow school secretary. She swiveled around the three two-drawer filing cabinets that separated their work spaces. One faced Avery, and the other Claire. They worked together to keep the front office of the number-one-ranked private school in Seattle running smoothly.
Not a day went by that Avery wasn’t grateful for the job that allowed her to bring her son to school and have the same days off he did. “I’m laughing my guts out. Look at this.” She dug her phone out of her purse, opened the app, and set it on the filing cabinet.
Claire snatched it up. Her long nails were painted bright pink today. The color was beautiful against her caramel skin. She eyed the screen for a moment. “I don’t get it. What’s so funny?”
Avery tipped her head. “Landon thought he was getting me a free dinner.”
Claire gasped. “With a blind date?”
“Yep. He thinks he’s wise in the ways of the world.”
Claire set the phone back down, grabbed the edge of her seat, and scooted it beneath her spin-class-sculpted bottom. “What are you wearing?”
“I’m not going.”
“You have to. I just RSVP’d.”
A strangled cry escaped Avery’s throat. “Why? Why would you do that to me?”
“The guy has a steady job, says he likes roller coasters too, and has nice ears.”
Avery strangled her phone, because strangling people was frowned upon. “Is that what qualifies for a date these days?”
Claire giggled. “Honey, I’ve gone out with men with far less in common and some funky ears. Just go. You might have fun.”
“I might die of embarrassment.”
“He might be cute.”
“He might be a serial killer.”
Claire pulled up a website, her chin lifted with superiority.
