LITMIR.BIZ

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it was Bob Gaylord or Stan Vanderhof she’d be okay, but if she got Myrna Franz, Grace was in real trouble. “Grace, we’ve spent two weeks going over this damned bus, piece by piece. I know it’s not the most interesting thing you’ll ever do—”

      “Luke.”

      She spoke so quietly that he stopped.

      He looked at her. “What?”

      She crooked a finger at him, beckoning him over. “Come here. I’ll show you.”

      He went to her and crouched next to her, and tried to ignore the seductive scent of her shampoo…which told him he was too close to her for his own good.

      “That,” she said, “is the drive line. We’re checking to make sure the universal joints there—” she identified them correctly “—are secure.” She swept her arm down toward the back tire. “There you have the leaf springs, held on at the spring hanger and secured, as you can see, by a U-bolt. That also holds the rear axle there in place.”

      She was right on all counts. He leaned in and looked to make sure. It was hot between them, but he wasn’t sure if it was the engine, the weather or something else.

      “That’s the gas tank,” Grace was saying. “That’s the emergency-brake cable, and the oil filter is over there on the right side.” She turned to him, her face just inches from his. The blue of her eyes was so clear he almost felt he could see inside her. “And this—” she gave an ironic smile and pointed at him “—is a guy who is so convinced he’s right about everything and everyone that he’s unwilling to give anything a chance, even when it could be to his own benefit.” She flashed him a devious smile. “How’m I doing?”

      He had to hand it to her. Not only had she learned all of the parts of the engine—a feat he had been certain she couldn’t accomplish even in a year—but she had done it in less time than it had taken the last two bus drivers.

      Of course, she was wrong about him. He was nothing if not open-minded.

      “You’re getting there,” he conceded, with a grudging smile.

      A strange moment passed between them. For just a fraction of a moment, Luke thought that maybe he and Grace might someday, somehow, be friends.

      But everything that had gone down between them came back to him in a flash. “Friends” seemed unlikely.

      Grace’s smile widened. “I’m there, buddy, I’m finished. At least with the outside of the bus and the inside’s a piece of cake. I got everything right and you know it.”

      He gave a nod. “I know it.”

      “Ha!” She stood up and wiped the dirt off her hands again. “And you hate it,” she said, jabbing a triumphant finger in his direction.

      “No, I don’t, Grace, I’m glad. I need you to get this right. I need for you to pass the test.”

      She nodded. “I’ll pass.” She swallowed visibly, but kept her chin up in a determined way. “Don’t you worry about that.”

      “There you are, Grace, Luke.”

      Luke turned to see Fred Bailey making his way across the gravel parking lot. “I’m glad to find you both here. Saves me some time.”

      “Hi, Mr. Bailey,” Grace said, sounding like a kid.

      “What’s up, Fred?” Luke asked. If Fred Bailey was looking for him, he could be pretty sure it wasn’t to give him a lollipop. Fred only sought him out when there was a problem. Or a woman who needed a job.

      The older man took a handkerchief out of his pocket and swabbed his forehead. “Hot as hell out here.”

      “It is,” Luke agreed.

      “Bet it’s worse in that tin box.” Fred nodded toward the bus.

      Grace laughed. “Yeah. It has no air-conditioning.”

      Fred seemed genuinely surprised. “No air-conditioning?”

      She gestured toward the open bus door. “There’s a fan rigged up to the rearview mirror, but that’s it.”

      Luke flashed Grace an impatient look. “There’s nothing wrong with the bus. On hot days, the driver can open the windows and use the fan. It’s just fine in there.”

      Grace remained silent.

      Fred Bailey looked at her quizzically, then shrugged. “You all know more about these things than I do. Tell you why I’m here.

      “It’s about the funding.”

      “Maybe I should let you two speak in private,” Grace said, glancing from one to the other.

      “No, no. Part of what I have to say concerns you too, Grace.”

      She raised her eyebrows. “O-kay…”

      “Luke, I’ll get right to the point. Daphne Silvers has decided not to give the school the grant she promised. It was, as you know, substantial.”

      Luke’s stomach dropped. Substantial was right. Daphne Silvers had promised the school fifty thousand dollars. He’d worked it into the budget and still come up slightly short of his five-year projections. The fund-raising plans he’d made were meant to fill the leftover gap, not a chunk as large as fifty grand.

      “We’ve held an emergency meeting of the board,” Fred went on, “and we’re about to have another meeting this afternoon. Bernard Hall has offered an additional ten thousand on top of the donation he made this spring, but we’re still falling short.”

      “Far short,” Luke said. “Though there’s a possibility that the state will give us a grant. I’ve got the paperwork on my desk.”

      Fred shook his head. “Unfortunately, the deadline for that was yesterday.”

      “What? That’s not possible. I went over every detail. I’m sure the deadline is next week.”

      “Typo.” Fred waved his hand airily, as if to say the issue had already been raised and dismissed. “They sent out an amendment, but no one on the staff seems to have gotten it.”

      Which meant that he’d have to wait another ten months to apply again. The school had only enough money, assuming full enrollment, to maintain itself for two more years. If that didn’t change, Connor Primary Day School would have to close.

      “Why did Mrs. Silvers rescind her offer?” Grace asked.

      “That’s beside the point—” Luke began.

      “No, no, it’s a good question,” Fred said. “She rescinded her offer because of our policy change on the honor code at the end of last semester.”

      Luke nodded miserably. He’d known some oldschoolers would disapprove of the change, but he’d felt strongly that the code, as written, wasn’t fair.

      “What change?” Grace wanted to know.

      “There was some cheating on the final exam. About six students in Amanda Bittner’s class. The old policy was that if anyone cheated, the entire class would be expelled. But that was plainly unfair.” He looked at Fred Bailey. “Surely you pointed that out.”

      Fred nodded and swabbed his forehead again. “Several of us tried valiantly, but Daphne hates scandal. Didn’t want her name attached to anything that smacks of dishonesty. And she’s not the only one—she nearly got Ginger Anderson and Lynn Morrow on board with her.”

      “But that’s so narrow-minded!” Grace objected.

      Luke agreed privately, but aloud he said, “These are older folks who have been living in this town for half a century or more, Grace. Not only are their personal codes of conduct strict, but they hold almost impossibly high expectations for everyone around them.”

      “Exactly so,” Fred agreed. “So

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