“Yes,” I nodded, trying to keep my cool. “That’s where her uncle lives. And as I’m sure you’re well aware, Miss Peters,” I made a point of narrowing my eyes at her, “Her uncle has been awarded emergency custody of Emmy for the time being.”
“That’s correct,” Mr. Richmond nodded. “But some parents are concerned that the Preston’s lifestyle might not be in keeping with the morals and values we try to instill here at Bellamy.”
I felt the heat of anger prickle up my neck, and I turned to the social services caseworker.
“That’s ridiculous!” I said. “You can’t possibly agree with that!”
“I’m concerned with the child’s well-being,” Miss Peters said calmly, her eyes vacant and devoid of genuine compassion. “And if other parents are concerned that Emmy is a bad influence on their children, then I have to be concerned about that, too.”
“That’s so unfair,” I turned back to Mr. Richmond. “You’re going to punish a child because of where her uncle lives?”
“Nobody is punishing anyone,” Mr. Richmond assured me. “But I’m sure we can all agree that someone with Mr. Preston’s reputation and lifestyle could be seen as an unfavorable influence on students.”
“We’ve just called this meeting to keep an eye on the situation,” Miss Peters said. She was trying to placate me, but I did not want to be placated. I did not want to be talked down to, and I certainly did not want to be lectured on ‘morals’ and ‘values,’ from the same school administrator that blindly accepted tuition checks from Wall Street thieves and drug addicts.
“Mr. Preston is perfectly fit to care for his niece,” I said flatly.
“It seems you would know,” Mr. Richmond snapped.
I gulped, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Some students also reported that Emmy was bragging about you going home with her to Mr. Preston’s apartment,” Miss Peters said.
“That’s true,” I admitted. “I wanted to make sure she was safe and comfortable…”
“Miss Wright,” Mr. Richmond said firmly, “I shouldn’t need to remind you that we have procedures in place for these kinds of things.”
“I’m well aware,” I snapped back. “And if CPS had actually answered my phone calls, I might have been able to follow that procedure properly. I was doing what I thought was best for everyone.”
“I appreciate your dedication,” Mr. Richmond sighed, “But it can’t happen again. There are boundaries, Miss Wright, and they exist for a reason. Teachers and parents do not mingle outside of this school. Do you understand?”
I felt the pressure of both Mr. Richmond Miss Peters glaring at me, and I nodded.
“I understand.”
I understood… but that didn’t mean I had to agree.
11
CALEB
“Are you ready to see how the cookies turned out?” I asked, beaming down at Emmy.
“Yes!” she squealed. Her arms were buried in a pair of ballet pink oven mitts, one of the many items she hand-selected when I took her shopping for decorations for her room, and she eyed the built-in kitchen oven eagerly.
“Ok, stand back,” I said, opening the oven door slowly and blocking the wave of heat that simmered out. I reached for the tray of cookies inside and pulled them out, and the eager anticipation on Emmy’s face immediately melted when she saw what thirteen minutes at 350 degrees has done to the pink heart-shaped sugar cookies we carefully shaped with cookie cutters.
“Yikes,” I laughed it off, dropping the tray of failures on top of the gas range stovetop. I peeled off my own oven mitt, which was also, inexplicably pink, and I scratched my head thoughtfully. “What could we have done wrong? We followed the recipe to the T.”
“I bet Miss Daisy will know,” Emmy shrugged, putting on a brave face to hide her disappointment.
“You’re right,” I nodded. “Maybe she can help us make another batch sometime.”
Emmy’s face lit up at the suggestion, and before she could get too excited, I glanced at my watch.
“Enough lollygagging, we’re going to be late!” I picked up the pink backpack that we already packed for tonight’s slumber party, and I looped it around my shoulder. “Let’s go!”
Emmy clapped her hands in delight, and she skipped across the wooden floor towards the elevator. She has been looking forward to tonight all week. Tonight was the night of Morgan Richie’s slumber party.