Harriet waited for a moment, then moved back toward the door and closed it. She turned back to face me, an unsure look on her face. I was just as unsure about what the heck she was doing.
“Okay, I'm going to be honest with you,” she said, coming back to the table and sliding her body into a chair across from me. The smell of her perfume hit me, a cloying blend of floral scents. “I'm sorry about yesterday. I know I pestered you like crazy and that was wrong and I'm sorry.”
“Alright,” I said, still wary.
“And I know I'm not making much sense here, so I'm going to be straightforward with you,” she continued. “If the school is going to be buying all new computers, I know of a great place to purchase them.”
“But, Harriet, I'm really not—”
“My husband runs an electronics store,” she said, cutting me off. “Over on Riverfront. Data Dork?”
I knew it. I passed it at least once a week. It was in an older strip mall, sandwiched between a clock repair shop and a pet store. The kids always wondered aloud who ran it and who went there because we never saw a single car in the lot. It seemed like the kind of place that you were aware of, but knew nothing about. Will theorized the whole strip mall was some elaborate money laundering scheme; since I couldn't refute it, I just kept my mouth shut.
“He's had the store almost ten years now,” she said. “He can get anything the school might need and probably at a good discount.” She tucked a wayward strand of her short hair behind her ear. “That's why I was so interested yesterday. I wondered if the computers were really gone and if the school would be replacing them. Now that I know they are and that they're raising money to get them, I'd love it if they were purchased through my husband's store.”
Finally, something that made sense. I appreciated the explanation for her behavior from the day before but she was overlooking one big thing.
“I really don't think I'll have anything to do with buying them,” I explained. “Mrs. Bingledorf just wants me to consider putting on a fundraiser – and that isn't even a sure thing. But it's not like she's going to tell me to take the money and go buy them as soon as it's over.”
“Well, no, of course not,” Harriet said, nodding. “I understand that. But I'm sure you'll somehow be involved in using the money and I just wanted to put in my two cents for Harold's store. I promise you, no one could get those computers cheaper or as fast.”
“That's great to know,” I said, trying to appease her. “But I really think that's something you should discuss with Mrs. Bingledorf. Or Mr. Riggler. Or whoever would be buying the computers. Which would not be me. If there's even a fundraiser.”
“But can I count on you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “To maybe put in a good word for the store?”
My stomach knotted as I thought about Will's comments. Part of me wanted to help her, but the other part of me immediately visualized the sad-looking store that looked like it was on life support – or laundering drug money. I didn't want to vouch for something I didn't know anything about.
“I can mention it to Mrs. Bingledorf,” I said. “That your husband has a store and that he'd be willing to purchase them for the school. But again, I think you're jumping the gun a little here.”
She pushed back from the table and stood. “Oh, I so appreciate it. I can't wait to tell Harold.” She was positively beaming. “He'll be thrilled. I'm sure he'll start working on the order right away so that they can get the computers here just as fast as possible.”
“Harriet, I wouldn't—”
“Have a great day!” she said and wobbled out of the room.
I blinked a couple of times and thought about pinching myself to prove that I wasn't dreaming. Or having a nightmare. She hadn't listened to a thing I'd said.
I sighed and tossed the remaining empty folders into the box. I was fairly certain all of this – my conversation with Harriet, being roped into planning a fundraiser by Bingledorf – was going to come back and bite me right in the rear end. I had no idea if the school would buy from Harold but I knew one thing.
Everyone at Prism was counting on one person to pull them out of this mess.
Me.
TWELVE
“I got first place!” Grace yelled. Her hair was
“You did not,” Will said, rolling his eyes. He set his phone down on the table and plopped himself down on one of the chairs. His cheeks were red, too, and his blond hair was slick with sweat. “Brenda was just being nice.”
“I got second,” Sophie said loudly. But her voice never matched the others and she was drowned out by Grace's shrieks. “And Grace definitely won. Will is just mad that he came in last.”
I'd been home from school for an hour, nestled on the couch, before all three of them burst through the door, kicking off their shoes and trying to out-yell the other. A pad of paper and a pencil sat in my lap, the pencil razor-sharp, the sheet still blank.
I set both down and stood up. “Where's Jake?”
“He's coming,” Will said, a funny smile on his face. “He's moving kind of slow.”
“Why?”
“Derek hit him in the privates,” Will said.
“With a wiffle bat,” Sophie said. Her nose wrinkled and her glasses wobbled. “Pretty hard.”
“He said a bad word,” Grace added.
“Jake or Derek?” I asked, because either was a possibility.
The back door opened and Jake limped slowly into the dining room, glaring at me.
“Hard day, honey?” I asked, biting back a smile.
“I'm no longer kidding about going to Abu Dhabi,” he growled, slightly hunched over. “That little punk hit me right in the—”
“I heard,” I said. “I heard. I'm sorry.”
He grunted and trudged past me toward the stairs.
I turned back to Grace. “What exactly did you take first place in?”
She scrambled up into my lap and I pulled her to me, breathing in the scent of lingering apple shampoo and the peanut butter she must have just had as a snack at Brenda's . “We had a talent show. With all of the kids. I did a lip-synch to Taylor Swift. And I totally won.” She stuck her tongue out at Will.
“Brenda was the judge,” Will said, still rolling his eyes. “She wasn't going to give it to her own kids , so of course she gave it to Grace.”
“She was good,” Sophie said
“It would have if Derek hadn't stolen my quarters!” he snapped.
“What did you do?” I asked Sophie.
“Cartwheels. Eight of them,” she said. “I was dizzy at the end and crashed into the wall.”
She and Grace took turns telling me about their day, describing in great detail each act of the talent show, their lunch, and the game of freeze tag they'd played in Brenda's backyard. I loved listening to them and felt a little sad that I'd missed out on the day. I wasn't used to missing those days. I was usually in the middle of them and I didn't like that even one had escaped me.
“Momma,” Grace said, squirming in my lap. “What would you have done if you'd been in the show?”
I wrapped my arms tighter around her and squeezed her to me. “I would've been a judge, I think.”
“No, if you'd been a contestant.”
“Oh, gosh,” I said, shaking my head. “I have no idea. But I probably would've come in last.”
Will got up from the table and flopped down on the couch next to me. He was past the hugging and cuddling stage but his leg touched mine and I smiled. I would take that as a sign o f affection, a sign that he 'd missed me. “Brenda probably would've made you the winner.”
Emily walked out of her room and headed for the kitchen. She'd gotten home a few minutes before the other kids and, after grabbing a granola bar and a cup of milk, had barricaded herself in her room. She'd changed out of her school clothes and was wearing a pair of tattered black sweats and an old Girl Scout shirt that was at least two sizes too small for her. “If you were in a talent show, I would pay money just to see what you'd do.”
And, just like that, the light bulb went on.
“That's it,” I said, squeezing Grace so hard she yelped.
“What's it?” Sophie asked.
“A talent show,” I said. I laughed. “We can do a talent show at Prism!”
Emily walked back into the room with a bag of barbecue potato chips. It constantly amazed me that she ate like a horse and didn't gain an ounce of weight. “What?”
“The fundraiser,” I said to her. “For the computers. We can do a talent show!”
Her face screwed up with confusion. “What are you even talking about?”
“Mrs. Bingledorf put me in charge of creating a fundraiser to raise money for new computers,” I explained.
Will snickered. “That name. So lame. Are you sure it isn't Bingledork?”