Out of the Picture Read online

  Skylar was right. Savanna felt deflated, and she wasn’t even sure why.

  Sydney shrugged, shaking her head. “Poor Eleanor.”

  “Poor Eleanor,” Savanna agreed.

  Chapter Five

  Why were there so many different types of crackers? Savanna stood studying the multitude of flavors and brands in aisle seven at Happy Family. She put the bright orange box of cheddar flavor back on the shelf and instead grabbed the triangle-shaped sea salt crackers. And then a second box. And then, thinking better of it, put that one back on the shelf and selected one of the sun-dried tomato variety to add to her cart.

  She knew it wasn’t about crackers. Tonight was her very first school open house, in her very first teaching job. With all of her experience at Kenilworth in Chicago, her fine art degree, even her respectable age of thirty, she shouldn’t feel so nervous.

  But. She was a newbie, the most recent addition to her school. She had no track record. Parents in this town talked; they knew each other, and most knew the teachers. Give her a classroom of eight-year-olds any day—in fact, give her five classrooms of little kids every day of the week, as she currently was responsible for the art education of two hundred and eighty-four children—and she was just fine. But the thought of spending two hours tonight waiting for parents to enter her classroom and find out she was a rookie?

  Savanna shook her head, trying to dissipate her anxiety. Jack Carson had assured her these open houses were easy. They were mainly a way to welcome families back to school for the year and allow parents to see where their kids would be spending their time. Raffle baskets and bake sale tables had already been set up in the gym, Savanna’s classroom was decorated with the paintings her students had done the first week of school, and Jack would be on the other side of her classroom wall, running the book fair, just in case she needed anything. Okay. She could handle this.

  She put all three boxes of crackers back on the shelf. The school had recommended against teachers buying their own snacks and goodies to offer anyway, as there would be a four-dollar pizza or hot dog dinner in the cafeteria. Savanna was looking for something to make her room a little more inviting, but crackers would just sit out and get stale. She rounded the corner into the candy aisle, spotting packages of miniature chocolate bars. Sure, why not?

  And fruit, Savanna thought. To balance the chocolate; couldn’t have only unhealthy snacks. Armed with two bags of shiny red apples and one large bag of assorted flavors of minis, she was heading toward checkout when she caught a familiar name: Mrs. Carson.

  She stopped, halfway down the paper goods aisle. Voices drifted over the top of the wall of paper towels to her.

  “She let that granddaughter take over, and she forgets to tip me half the time. I should still be running our diner. I would be, if it weren’t for her rotten husband. Everett Carson cost me everything. And now I’m the one who has to bring her groceries? I’ve just about had it, I’m telling you.”

  Savanna stood rooted to the spot. What in the world?

  “Listen”—now a different, higher female voice—“I get it. I loved your diner, Amber. You guys had the best omelets in Carson. Are you wishing you didn’t sell to him?”

  “We shouldn’t have. I wish old man Carson had never made Roy the offer!”

  “But…I thought you were going under. Isn’t that why you sold when you had the chance?”

  Savanna heard a frustrated groan. “We would have pulled out of the slump. The whole deal just made Roy spiral out of control.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. You’ve had an awful year. Losing your house is just the worst thing I can imagine! I know Roy would hate to see you so miserable.”

  “Yeah, well, he can’t see me at all from jail, can he? None of it was his fault. It’s big ’ol Carson Realty’s fault. I’m sure none of the Carsons even care what happened to us.”

  Savanna became aware of another cart in her peripheral vision. Embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping, Savanna quickly scooted her cart to one side and turned toward the paper plates, picking up two packages and trying to look deeply involved in her price comparison.

  As the shopper passed her, Savanna caught the tail end of what Amber was saying. “—doesn’t matter now anyway. She’d better realize, what goes around, comes around, you know?”

  The other woman gave some sort of murmured reply.

  That had to be the grocery delivery person Savanna had seen at Caroline’s the other day…the day Eleanor had died. What on earth had happened that she hated the late Everett Carson so much? Savanna knew he’d been a shrewd businessman, but the Everett she remembered was boisterous, fair, and kind.

  In the silence from the other side of the paper products, Savanna moved into the checkout line. She wasn’t sure what she’d just heard. She turned, just slightly, and spied the delivery woman—Amber—in her green Happy Family apron and cap, loading a portable cart with groceries. The woman helping her was younger, around twenty or so. Her Happy Family apron was orange, like the person behind the remote-order counter. They weren’t talking anymore; Amber loaded each bag with quick, jerky movements, frowning.

  “Ma’am?”

  The clerk pulled Savanna’s attention back to the checkout. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, swiping her card for her apples and candy, and the plates she hadn’t meant to bring with her to the counter.

  The conversation stayed with Savanna as she fussed over the candy bowl and basket of apples in her classroom. She felt sad for that woman, Amber. From the little she’d heard, she couldn’t see how Everett Carson had caused Amber’s life to fall apart. It seemed like her husband was responsible for their hardships, and had landed in jail because of it. But Savanna knew that blame wasn’t always placed where it belonged. She’d have to subtly try to get an idea of what Lauren thought of Amber…or see if Syd or Skylar knew anything about Amber and her husband. She didn’t even know the woman’s last name. But she was betting one of her sisters would be able to figure it out.

  She pushed the overheard conversation to the back of her mind as the first parents entered her room. With so many students, she didn’t know them all by name yet, but she’d been studying the nametag photos she’d attached to each child’s artwork folder, and she knew this was Parker, accompanied by both his parents. She went to welcome them, smiling as Parker led them over to his painting hung on the wall. Savanna found his folder and joined them, handing them Parker’s self-portrait, a template of a person on a blank piece of paper that each child had filled in and decorated however they imagined themselves, complete with any glued on, sparkly, bright-colored, interestingly-textured items they could find in the cubbies she kept filled with such things. Parker and his parents served to break the ice for Savanna. As the next few sets of people drifted in and out, her enthusiasm for the projects she’d planned this year eclipsed any nervousness she still had left.

  The school’s sweet, jovial principal made rounds throughout the evening, greeting parents and checking on teachers. Mr. Clay was awesome. He even brought Savanna a fresh cup of coffee halfway through, telling her to hang in there. He’d been the one to hire her, sitting across from her at the desk he’d probably inhabited for the last forty years and agreeing that even though she was inexperienced, she’d give the children a fantastic art education this year.

  Nearly two hours later, Savanna was able to laugh at her own nerves. The evening had gone fine. It had been so interesting meeting the families of her students, hearing about which one had an uncle who was an amazing painter or a grandmother who designed her own jewelry, and seeing the more relaxed, after-hours personalities of some of the kids. She’d even reacquainted with a few of her former classmates and friends, with an odd sensation at seeing them over a decade later, as the parents of her students.

  Jack Carson popped in, leaning in her doorway holding his coffee cup. He wore a sport coat tonight with his usual khakis and button
-down, and a tie with books running the length of it. Savanna briefly imagined a closet full of nothing but khakis and ties with literary references; he seemed to wear almost the same thing every day. Jack’s short, sandy-brown hair was perpetually messy, but it looked good on him.

  “So,” he said, “not as bad as you expected?”

  “Not at all. Just a repeat of first-day jitters, I guess. It was actually kind of fun!”

  “If you think this is fun, wait until parent-teacher conferences next month. We have it a little nicer than the K through fivers though. At least with the non-core classes, I don’t end up getting kids grounded for skipping their math homework.” Jack taught an intro to computer class to every third, fourth, and fifth grader at Carson Elementary.

  “Definitely. I can see the perks of not teaching core,” she said, though part of her envied the close relationship some of the kids seemed to have with their classroom teachers. Since starting this job, she’d been pleasantly surprised to learn that she loved working with children.

  “You can probably start closing up,” he told her. “Things are winding down.”

  Savanna moved about her classroom, turning chairs upside down on desktops for the custodial staff. She couldn’t wait to get home and shed the heeled suede ankle boots she’d chosen for today. She never wore heels, but the cropped slim black pants and tailored blazer didn’t look as good with anything else. “The price of beauty,” Sydney had said, voicing her approval at Savanna’s ensemble that morning before work, adjusting her aqua infinity scarf for her.

  Price of beauty, my eye. Savanna’s feet were killing her. She either needed to wear hip, trendy shoes more often to get used to them, or only wear ballet-flat appropriate outfits. She did have a closet of cute dresses that Rob had deemed not professional enough for the museum; she’d been working her way through them since the school year had started.

  “I think we’re a little late.”

  Savanna spun around at the deep voice behind her, startled. She’d thought she was alone. The last person she expected to see in her doorway was Dr. Aidan Gallager.

  And Mollie…Gallager. Of course, Mollie Gallager. The little girl held tight to Aidan’s hand, half hidden behind his tall frame. Sheesh, how had that slipped right by her? Mollie Gallager was in one of her first grade classes. She should have made the connection. But it had never occurred to her that Aidan could be a dad.

  Aidan looked as startled as Savanna felt. “Mrs. Shepherd,” he said, glancing down at the classroom guide in his hand.

  “Ms.,” she automatically corrected. “I mean, Savanna.” She laughed. “Um, I mean Ms. Shepherd.” She looked quickly at Mollie by his side. Aidan looked somehow different tonight than the doctor she’d met at Caroline’s house last week. His suit and tie were now replaced with dark denim jeans, a blue button-down with sleeves rolled up, and brown oxfords.

  Aidan laughed with her. “Well, I’m a little behind on my parenting points. I don’t know how I didn’t know the name of my daughter’s art teacher until just now.”

  Savanna smiled at the girl. Though it was only the second week of school, she did know Mollie Gallager. The child was sweet, and so quiet and shy that Savanna always spent at least a few minutes each class period working one on one with her, trying to make her more comfortable. So far, the girl had warmed up a bit, but Savanna noticed a little stutter every time Mollie spoke. “Would you like to show your dad your painting?”

  Following Mollie to her artwork displayed near her desk, Savanna couldn’t help doing the math in her head; Mollie would have been just four years old or so when she’d lost her mother. Savanna couldn’t begin to imagine what Mollie and Aidan had been through.

  “Mollie is my best sculptor,” Savanna said, suddenly remembering something. She moved to her desk and returned with a tiny clay bunny. Mollie had shaped it the first day of class, and had left it stacked on her pile of clay when the children had filed out to their regular classroom. Savanna had set it aside to give her when she returned, but Mollie had shrugged and pushed it back into Savanna’s hand to keep. The bunny now sat next to the stapler on Savanna’s desk. It was two inches high and had perfectly formed ears and a tail. Mollie had even used one of the toothpicks to create whiskers. Savanna loved it.

  She motioned for Aidan and Mollie to take a seat at the nearby table and placed the bunny in Aidan’s open palm.

  Aidan examined it, glancing at Mollie. “You made this, Mol?”

  The girl nodded at her dad.

  “What’s his name?”

  “It’s a her!” Mollie’s voice was loud and clear, something Savanna had never heard from the girl before.

  “I’m so sorry, ma’am!” Aidan addressed the rabbit in his hand. “Of course I know you’re a girl. I was just testing my daughter here,” he explained to the clay figure.

  Mollie was squinting at him. A few long strands of wispy, strawberry-blond hair had come loose from her bluebird barrette, and she brushed them back off her forehead impatiently. “Daddy, she can’t hear you.”

  He glanced sideways at her. “Are you sure about that? Her ears are e-nor-mous.”

  Mollie giggled, a high-pitched, lovely sound. “She can only hear me, Daddy. Her name is Mrs. FluffyPants.”

  Savanna was amazed. She’d never seen this side of the girl during school.

  Aidan laughed. “That is a very respectable name. Does she like living here on Ms. Shepherd’s desk?”

  “Yes, she has to stay here.”

  Both Aidan and Savanna raised their eyebrows at that. Savanna started to protest—Mollie could take her bunny home anytime she liked. But Aidan spoke first.

  “Why is that? Why does she have to stay?”

  Mollie leaned over and whispered in her dad’s ear, Savanna watching curiously.

  He sat back and crossed one long leg over the other, obviously uncomfortable in the small chair; Savanna caught a flash of rainbow-colored fabric between the hem of his jeans and his shoes, and then he smoothed the denim and it disappeared. The idea of this well-dressed man wearing some type of bright, silly socks made Savanna smile to herself.

  Aidan glanced at his daughter before meeting Savanna’s eyes. “It all makes sense now.” He placed the bunny back in Savanna’s hand, his fingertips warm with the brief contact. “Mrs. FluffyPants has to stay here so you don’t get scared at night when all the kids go home.”

  Savanna remembered being Mollie’s age and thinking all teachers lived at the school. “Makes perfect sense,” she said. “Mollie, if Mrs. FluffyPants ever wants to take a little vacation at your house, that would be fine with me. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. “But not tonight.”

  There was absolutely no trace of any stutter this entire conversation, Savanna noticed. The minds of children. She had no idea there was so much going on in there.

  “We should let you get home,” Aidan said. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day. I’m sorry we were late.”

  “It’s no problem,” she said. “I’m glad to see you. I mean, I’m glad you both made it. Before I left.” Savanna looked up at him. She was beginning to have trouble meeting those intense blue eyes. They crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her, making her look away, her cheeks warm.

  “It was great to see you again, Savanna,” Aidan said, then corrected himself. “Ms. Shepherd.” He took her hand in both of his. “Thank you for all you do for Mollie. She likes you a lot.”

  Savanna’s cheeks burned. From the compliment, she told herself, not the contact. She forced herself to meet his gaze and felt her heartbeat race. Stop it, Savanna, she thought. She would not nurture a silly crush on this man, not after just going through her broken engagement with Rob, and especially not now, with Aidan being the parent of one of her students.

  That night at Sydney’s house, Savanna couldn’t sleep. She turned from one side to the other in the twin
bed in her cotton-candy-pink bedroom. Fonzie was lying on her feet, crowding her; he kept repositioning as she tossed and turned, and finally gave up and hopped back into his dog bed. She stretched out, forcing her eyes to stay closed, but her brain wouldn’t shut off.

  It was too hot. Savanna got up and opened the window, flipping the switch for the ceiling fan before climbing back into bed. It was already past midnight. She’d told Caroline she’d be there at nine a.m. sharp to continue working on the mural. Now, still wide awake, she wished she’d left time in order to sleep in. The red digital numbers on the clock next to the bed mocked her.

  12:49.

  1:14.

  1:56.

  She was going to be so tired tomorrow. She squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to watch the clock. It was the coffee. Darn Mr. Clay and his hospitality—she knew better than to drink coffee at night. It had to be the coffee.

  Chapter Six

  Savanna was high up on scaffolding in Caroline’s parlor by ten the next morning. She hadn’t needed the ladder after all; she’d woken up that morning with a better idea. She’d caught her dad on his way to the golf course and convinced him to accompany her to Caroline’s first, and bring scaffolding from his supplies. Savanna had helped Harlan with the quick setup, which would now allow her to work easily on the entire wall.

  Caroline had insisted on serving Savanna and her dad coffee and freshly baked muffins before letting Harlan leave. Savanna couldn’t refuse, despite having just thrown together scrambled eggs and bacon for herself and Sydney an hour earlier.

  “Oh wow, these are good,” she’d commented around a mouthful of muffin. “Did Lauren make them?”

  Caroline had looked surprised, pushing the plate of blueberry muffins across the kitchen table to Harlan. “I made them. Lauren doesn’t handle everything around here, I’ve still got all my marbles.” She’d winked at Savanna.