Page 32 of Working for the Teacher

Trudy Hayes is smaller than Charlotte, and she takes one long look at me standing in her daughter's entryway before her expression shifts into something I don't expect at all.

“You're Barry's boy,” she says. “Ryder.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I'm sorry about your father. He was a hard man, but I know he loved you, even if he never much showed it.”

My chest tightens and I nod because she’s not wrong.

“Mom,” Charlotte says, hovering somewhere between mortified and protective, “what are you doing here?”

“I brought over the rest of that casserole.” She holds up a covered container, then sets it down on the entry table. “But mostly I wanted to see you, and I have to say, I'm glad I did.”

“Why's that?”

“Because you look happy.” Trudy's gaze slides between the two of us. “I haven't seen you look like this in a while. Not once since you came back. You’ve got a glow. I'll admit, selfishly, part of me wants you living five minutes from me for the rest of your life regardless. But thank you, Ryder. If her smile is because of you, it's been a long time coming.”

“Mom.”

“I'm just saying.” Trudy waves a hand, unbothered by Charlotte's tone. “The whole town's already talking about the two of you, you know. I've heard it from at least five different people since this morning. Let them talk. People in this town have been gossiping about somebody since the day it was founded. Might as well be something happy for once.”

She turns to me, appraising.

“You treat my daughter right, and keep her here in Forge Creek where she belongs, and I will bake you anything you want for the rest of your life. Pies. Cakes. Whatever your heart desires.”

“Mom!” Charlotte's face has gone fully red now, somewhere between horrified and laughing. “Oh my God. Please leave.”

“I'm leaving, I'm leaving.” Trudy pats my arm on her way past, a quick, approving little gesture, and heads for the door. “I'll let you two get back to whatever I interrupted.”

She pauses and turns to me before she leaves. “Your father would've been proud of the man you turned into, whether he ever managed to say it or not.”

The words hit somewhere I don't have a lot of practice guarding, and it takes me a second to find my voice again.

“Thank you. That means more than you probably know.”

She gives me one last smile and lets herself out. The door clicks shut behind her, and Charlotte stands there for a second with her hand pressed over her eyes.

“I am so sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“She's harmless. I promise. She's just a little emotionally stuck somewhere around my sixteenth birthday and hasn't quite figured out I'm an adult who doesn't need her running commentary.”

“She didn't look at me like I was a stain on her daughter's floor. Which, considering my history in this town, makes her pretty high up in my book already.”

Charlotte laughs, some of the embarrassment easing out of her shoulders, and steps back into my space like the interruption never happened.

“Where were we?” she asks.

I step closer. “I want to take you somewhere.”

She tilts her head, curious. “Okay.”

I take her hand and lead her out the front door. I open the passenger door of the truck for her, wait until she’s settled, then walk around and climb in. The engine turns over, and I put it in drive without another word.

She watches the road for a minute, then glances over. “Are you going to tell me where?”

“You’ll know when we get there.”