Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel (14 page)

Heat stung Allison’s cheeks. “I see.” Lips pursed, she squatted to give Lottie a hug. “You have a wonderful weekend, Miss La-di-da, and I’ll see you on Monday, all right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Returning her hug, Lottie slipped inside to
join the fray in the kitchen while Alli quietly closed the door. “Teach me a thing or two,” she muttered, storming across the lawn. “Humph . . . how to be rude and grumpy, maybe.”

Good mood considerably dampened, Allison hurried in the school’s back door and rushed down the hall, her new shoes pinching as much as her pride. “Oh, enough!” she muttered, screeching to a stop midway. She removed her heels, refusing to endure both the pain of shoes and insults from Nick Barone. After all, all the students were gone. Her silk stockings glided the glossy wooden floor that Mrs. Lemp kept buffed to a shine, and Allison’s outlook suddenly improved. She took a run to slide the last twenty feet to Mother’s office, bad mood forgotten. Giggling, she skated past the door, arms flailing and feet skidding.

Boom!
The ceiling stared back at her and she blinked, heat storming her cheeks as she lay flat on her back in front of Mother’s door. Mortified, she scrambled to her feet and snatched her shoes from the floor, praying no one had noticed as she tiptoed into the room. “My apologies for being late,” she said, tone breathless, “but I had to take Lottie home.”

Her mother blinked. “Good heavens, Allison—are you all right?”

“Fine, Mother, really, just a little stunned.”

Her mother’s saucer eyes did a quick scan from Alli’s disheveled hair down her partially untucked shirtwaist to her navy silk stockings that peeked out beneath her now-wrinkled linen skirt. “What on earth were you doing, young lady?”

Alli took great pains to smooth her skirt as well as she could with her shoes still in one hand. “I was . . .” She chewed on her lip, not daring to look at anyone but Mother lest she break into laughter from the hidden grin she was certain twitched on Cassie’s face. “Skating.”

“Skating.” Her mother’s tone was as flat as the bottom of Alli’s
stockinged feet as they fused to the floor, toes curling beneath the hem of her skirt. Mother’s shocked gaze flitted from a renegade curl spiraling down Alli’s shirtwaist to the confounded shoes she now pinched in her hand. “In your stockings,” she whispered, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d seen.

Alli offered a sheepish shrug of her shoulders, lowering her voice as she leaned in. “Well, these new shoes hurt like the dickens, Mother, and after all, there’s nobody here but us.”

Caitlyn cleared her throat and stood, shoulders square and voice resuming its usual self-possessed air. “Put your shoes on, Allison, and tuck in your blouse, please. We’ve already covered most of the meeting, but at least allow me to introduce you to a new member of our staff.”

New member of our
staff?
Her shoes slipped from her fingers and clunked to the floor. She fought a gulp.
Sweet mother of mercy
, caught skating the hall in my stockings! And in front
of a stranger, no less.
Cheeks aflame, she dared not look anywhere but down while she grasped the edge of her mother’s desk with bloodless fingers to shimmy on first one shoe and then the other. With a hard swallow, she carefully retucked her shirt and slowly straightened with as much dignity as humanly possible after landing on her backside in the hall. Leveling her shoulders, she turned to acknowledge the new employee with a deep ingest of air. And promptly hacked it back out again in a coughing spell that sounded like she had the croup.

Her mother quickly skirted the desk to pat her on the back, arm scooping her daughter’s waist as if to shore her up in her moment of humiliation. A gentle apology laced her tone even as her fingers laced Allison’s own. “I believe you’ve already met Mr. Barone, Allison?”

Yes—way, WAY too many times.
Allison sucked in air like sustenance, dizzy from the lack of blood in her brain—it was all in her cheeks.

His gray-green eyes held a trace of humor held in check only by the clamp of lips in a stiffly polite smile. He inclined his head toward Allison, a muscle flickering in his shadowed jaw as he assessed her with a cool gaze. “I trust you’re well, Miss McClare?”

Her chin ascended several degrees. “Fine, Mr. Barone, thank you,” she replied, purposely dropping the long
e
.

Mother patted her waist and nudged her toward the last free chair in the room—right next to his. “It’s Barone, darling, long 
e
. Apparently Mr. Barone’s people hail from Sicily.”

Allison nodded in feigned interest as she slid into her chair with a silent grunt, hands knotted in her lap.
Yes
. . . cave country, I believe.

“Allison is our English and drama teacher, Mr. Barone,” Mother continued. “Which along with my niece Cassidy teaching arithmetic and music, Miss Mary Tuttle teaching science and geography, and Miss Sophie Merdian overseeing our art and reading program, rounds out our core curriculum.” Mother resumed her seat, the picture of grace and poise as she folded slender hands on her desk with a touch of a twinkle in her green eyes. “And, I’m happy to say, I’ve been able to coax my beloved housekeeper and cook, Mrs. Rosie O’Brien, into teaching the girls culinary skills once a week as well.” She offered a bright smile in Mr. Long-
e
’s direction. “So you see, Mr. Barone, having you aboard the next six weeks as watchman and handyman in Mr. Bigley’s absence, no matter how brief, is the final piece of the puzzle for a school we hope will be a blessing to many.”

Excuse me?
Allison’s jaw dropped before she could stop it, the sharp intake of her breath causing her to choke once again. A firm hand clapped on her back as she coughed, and she quickly fended it off, inching to the far side of her chair. “Thank you, but I’m fine, truly.”

Or will be
in
six weeks or so . . .

“Goodness, Allison, do you need a drink of water?” Mother stared in concern.

“No, Mother, I’m fine, really,” she said, her voice akin to a croak.

“Well then, as I was saying, starting Monday, Mr. Barone has graciously agreed to step in during Mr. Bigley’s absence despite a demanding workload as a senior detective for the 14th precinct. He will be on premises before and after school, during lunch recess, and as needed during the day for odd jobs or projects, so if you have any security or safety concerns or odd jobs, please see me. I will provide Mr. Barone a docket of tasks each day, and he has offered to devise a sound security plan for us as well.” She glanced around the room. “Any questions?”

“How is Mr. Bigley faring, Mrs. McClare, do we know?” Miss Tuttle asked, the snow-white bun on top of the elderly woman’s head more off-kilter than usual. Gnarled hands rested in the lap of her serviceable black skirt while she picked at her nails, the tic in her eye particularly active after a full week of teaching high-spirited girls.

“Thank you for asking, Miss Tuttle. He’s doing well, although Mrs. Bigley claims he’s a wee bit grumpy because it’s such a slow process. Says he’d rather be doing his job than sitting idle in a bed or chair.” Caitlyn smiled. “I told her to let him know how much we miss him.”

Alli shifted
. You have no
idea, Mother . . .

Miss Merdian raised a bony hand, the natural scowl on her thin, angular face reminding Alli of Mr. Personality on a good day. “We discussed outings with the children such as the de Young Museum and Sutro Baths—will Mr. Barone be available to accompany us on such excursions?”

Mother nodded. “Yes, Miss Merdian—excellent question. I’ve had the pleasure of conversing with Mr. Barone for the last half hour before you ladies arrived, and he assures me he is more than
willing to assist in any way needed, including a fine arts excursion to de Young or a field day for the children at Sutro Baths. Isn’t that correct, Mr. Barone?”

Mr. Personality actually smiled, his civil response as courteous and gracious as the most respectful of gentlemen. “Yes, ma’am—it’s an honor to assist you in any way I can.”

Allison gaped at his smiling profile, her jaw distended for the second time that day.

“Thank you, Mr. Barone. I cannot adequately express our gratitude and appreciation for your services.” Caitlyn glanced at the watch pinned to her dress. “Well, then, I’ve taken enough of everyone’s time, so thank you for a truly excellent first week, ladies, and we’ll see you all on Monday.” She rose to her feet, head cocked in Cassie’s direction. “Cassie, would you mind telling Hadley we’ll be right out? Mr. Barone and I need to speak with Allison privately for a moment.”

Privately?
A lump glugged in Allison’s throat.
Surely he
hadn’t complained to Mother . . .

“Certainly, Aunt Cait.” Cassie rose and offered a handshake. “It’s good to have you aboard, Mr. Barone. No matter how brief your tenure, your presence is a huge relief.”

Nick stood to shake her hand, his tone almost warm. “Thank you, Miss McClare. It’s nice to know I can offer some peace of mind.”

Allison bit back a grunt.
Humph . . . I’d
like to offer some piece of mind . . .

“Please call me Cass. As a former Texas girl, I don’t stand on formality all that much.” Her gaze veered to Alli with a definite sparkle. “And with two Miss McClares in the building, it might make things a bit easier, right, Al?”

No, “easier” would be if he weren’t here
at all . . .

“Then I insist you call me Nick,” he said, his congenial tone starting to get on her nerves. “That’s what my friends call me.”

He has
friends?
Allison fought the squirm of a smile.

“Then see you Monday, Nick. Take your time, Aunt Cait—I’ve been tanning Hadley’s hide in an ongoing game of gallows, so we won’t mind the wait.” Cassie passed Allison with a swish of her skirts, sliding her a wink before she sauntered to the door.

Cassie closed the door, and Alli sat up straight, ready to defend herself against slander.

“Allison,” her mother began with a crisp fold of her hands, “I want you to know that I am not overly thrilled with your intention to work late after school some afternoons or take the cable car home, but I realize your need for independence, so I respect that.” She lifted her chin, the barest flicker of a smile on her lips. “But, you’ve expressed an interest in learning jiu-jitsu, so Uncle Logan and I are willing to do whatever it takes to help you remain safe. To that end, I am happy to say that we have found you a jiu-jitsu instructor.”

Alli caught her breath, the thrill of learning jiu-jitsu almost enough to dispel her rancor toward the man in the chair beside her. Scooting to the edge of her seat, she clasped her hands to her chin, giddy with anticipation. “Oh, Mother, you won’t regret this, I promise. You have my word I’ll be the most diligent student ever. When do I start and where?”

“You’ll start Monday after school, and Mr. Barone feels the gymnasium is the best place since there’s plenty of room for the rubber mat he’ll bring from the precinct.”

White spots danced before her eyes. “Mr. B-Barone?” she whispered, her voice a rasp.

“Yes, darling, of course.” Her mother flashed a bright smile. “I had my doubts that your uncle could secure a jiu-jitsu instructor in the city at all, much less so quickly, but apparently Mr.
Barone is a skilled instructor who has trained a quarter of the 14th precinct in the art of jiu-jitsu.” She glanced in his direction, positively beaming. “Goodness, sir, we are so blessed to find one man who can provide so many services to our fledgling school—thank you, again.”

Yeah, blessed.
Alli swallowed hard, dread pasting her tongue like glue.

“So, Allison, your first class takes place on Monday. You’ll need to bring your bicycling outfit with the bloomers to change into after school. Mr. Barone tells me there are kicks involved and other fast movements that your teaching attire will impede.”

Alli nodded, unable to speak for the lack of moisture in her throat.

“You’ll work together Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for the six weeks that he is here, and you’ll meet in the gym at four o’clock sharp, which should give you enough time to tidy up your classroom after the final class of the day, all right?”

Breathing shallow, all Alli could do was bob her head up and down.

“Mr. Barone,” her mother said, “is there anything you’d like to add before we conclude?”

Allison allowed a sideways peek, and for the first time, Mr. Personality met her gaze, almost a dare in those gray-green eyes despite the polite tenor of his tone. “I’d just like Miss McClare to be fully aware jiu-jitsu is not just a skill of self-defense, but an excellent means of strengthening balance, self-esteem, and hopefully, if a student applies herself . . .” He paused for effect, his meaning clear in the press of his smile. “Self-control and respect for authority as well.”

A hot rush of blood blistered her cheeks, causing her chin to thrust up several degrees, lips matching the same mulish bent
as his. “And will you be teaching the self-control portion of this class, Mr. Barone?” she asked sweetly. “Or will that be handled by someone more skilled than yourself?”

“Allison . . .” Her mother’s voice interrupted with a quiet authority that commanded her attention. “I am well aware from talking to Miss Penny that you and Mr. Barone have gotten off to a rocky start, for which I have already apologized to him on your behalf. As your mother and principal of this school, I am asking you to lay your differences aside and give him the respect and civility due a teacher and fellow co-worker, is that clear?”

Alli nodded, blinking several times to clear the moisture that pricked in her eyes. “Yes, Mother,” she said quietly, gaze fixed straight ahead.

“Good.” Caitlyn’s heavy sigh filled the room. “I apologize again, Mr. Barone, for my daughter’s unfortunate remark. As our drama teacher, Allison tends to have a bit of the Sarah Bernhardt in her, I’m afraid, not to mention inheriting my mother’s Irish temper. I’m sure she’ll benefit from anything that enhances both self-control and respect for authority.” Her mother’s eyes softened as she smiled at her daughter, her affection more than evident. “But . . . I’m happy to say she’s a quick study and a good girl who has always made me proud.” The barest hint of humor crept into her tone. “However, just in case . . . my door is always open if you have any problems on either score, all right?”