Page 55 of Artifice

“It’s old family money,” she finally told him. “Grandfather owned several businesses and invested heavily in the stock market.”

“Sounds like a wise man.”

“He was very wise, and now, generations later, we’re still enjoying the fruits of his wise decisions.” She slowed her steps.“I also have a question for you. I was looking for Ms. Strickland earlier, but I didn’t see her. Is she absent today?”

A shadow crossed his gaze. “Aren’t you observant? Were you looking for her for a reason?”

Interesting response—and he’d avoided answering the question.

Olive remained calm as she said, “I observed her class yesterday.”

“I heard that didn’t go well.” His voice turned apologetic.

“I have to be honest and say I wasn’t impressed.”

Half his lip twitched down in a frown. “I’m still not sure what Margaret was thinking when she placed you there.”

Neither was Olive. “I was simply curious if Ms. Strickland was as unenthused outside the classroom walls.”

“Unfortunately, that answer is yes.”

His honesty sent a jolt of surprise through her. “Then why did you hire her?”

“It’s not easy to find people who want to teach here. It’s hard—and sometimes dangerous—work that comes with little pay. Maybe if we had more funding, we could change that.”

Maybe that was why Margaret had placed her in Ms. Strickland’s class, Olive mused.

“You still didn’t answer my question,” Olive reminded him. “Is Ms. Strickland here today?”

“No, she’s not. She’s feeling under the weather.”

“I see.” But Olive couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to the story.

They stopped in the dining area, where most—if not all—of the school’s thirty-seven students sat at three rows of bench-style wooden tables. They all seemed calm and composed—no signs of whatever trouble in their past had brought them here.

On their best behavior.

Olive again wondered if they’d been coached to act this way today or if this was how they always acted.

School staff lingered on the edges, watching everyone carefully.

Something about the scene took her back to her days at Oakridge.

Oakridge? Olive hadn’t thought about that school for so long.

She had too many bad memories of the place.

She put those thoughts aside.

Right now, she had too much work to do to dwell on the past.

Olive spotted Abe sitting at the end of the table, not many other kids around him.

Which would work out perfectly.

She lowered herself into a seat across the table from him, grabbing a plate and placing a sandwich there as she did so. All the food was served family style—which sounded cozy—but none of it looked appealing.

Abe looked up at her, surprise flashing in his eyes. “You again.”