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“Having trouble?” Beckett asked, biting back a smile.
“Well, they say the sixth time's a charm,” I said, trying to sound cheery and not worried.
After the eleventh call, I was ready to give up but unable to accept defeat. My heart sank. Even Mrs. London hadn’t volunteered to help out at this event. Something was terribly wrong.
I dialed the last number. “Hello, Mrs. Turner? This is Ms. Winter, the second-grade teacher from Kensington Prep. I was calling you about the Winter Festival committee.”
“I was told I might hear from you,” she said. “Listen, I know what you’re going to ask, and I can’t help.” News traveled fast in that circle of parents.
“I’ve asked everyone else and gotten the same non-committal response, but can you tell me what happened?” I asked, even though I was afraid of the answer.
Her silence had me wondering if she’d hung up.
“Mrs. Turner? Are you still there?” I pulled my phone away from my ear to be sure we hadn’t disconnected.
“I’m still here.” She paused again. “You can’t tell anyone I shared this information with you.”
“I won’t. I promise,” I whispered into the phone, grateful it wasn’t on speaker.
“You likely know by now that Veronica Sterling was the Chair for the past few years.” The Sterling family was like royalty at our school. Her children were in the older grades, so I didn’t have to teach them, but I’d heard stories about how she manipulated teachers into doing what she wanted.
I murmured in an affirmative.
“She and Principal Olsen were having an affair.”
My eyes grew wide. “No way.”
“Yes, and when he broke it off last month, she quit and made us all promise not to get involved.”
Principal Olsen was even more of a moron than I gave him credit for. “So I shouldn’t expect any help from her or anyone else. Got it.”
“I’m sorry.”
A terrible thought occurred to me. “She wouldn’t boycott the event, would she?” If Mrs. Sterling told families not to go, would they listen? This event was crashing and burning, and I hadn’t even started on the planning yet.
“I don’t think so, but you might want to reach out to her if the ticket count goes down.” Well shit. I hadn’t anticipated this bump in the road.
“Okay. Thank you for your help.” I hung up and looked at the ceiling, willing away the forming tears.
“I guess you’re stuck with me.” Beckett’s sarcasm was the last thing I needed right now.
Anger shot through me at the unfairness of it all. “Not now, Beckett!” I stood, sending my rolling chair into the wall behind me.
His head had snapped up to focus on me. “Are you okay?”
The quiet way he asked only made me angrier. “It’s not your problem.”
He got up and shut the door before turning to face me. “What happened on that last call?”
I ran a hand through my hair, not caring that it was likely a mess. “The principal is what happened.” I began to pace.
“Wren, I need this event to work out. Tell me what happened,” he demanded.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why do you need this so badly?” I knew why I needed this to work, but him?
“You first.”
“Why me?” I stalked closer to him.