Her Money, His Pride

Chapter 10: The Spring Fair

The courtyard looked different when it was filled with children.

Bright banners stretched between the trees, music played from borrowed speakers, and the smell of popcorn covered the paint and sawdust that had lingered all week.

Our yellow booth stood near the center.

Sophie had insisted on placing one of her cardboard suns above the sign. It hung crookedly, but Daniel had refused to straighten it.

“She made it that way,” he had said.

At ten o’clock, the gates opened.

Parents crowded the courtyard while students ran between games. I remained behind the booth, collecting tickets and reminding children not to throw beanbags at one another.

Daniel stood beside the game, returning the bags after each turn.

He wore a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled above his forearms. Several mothers found reasons to remain near the booth longer than necessary.

I noticed only because they were blocking the line.

“Mr. Carter,” Mrs. Whitmore said, resting one hand on the counter, “my husband is still waiting for your office to call.”

“I sent him an estimate yesterday.”

“You could have delivered it personally.”

Daniel glanced toward the children. “I’ve been busy.”

Mrs. Whitmore smiled in a way that had nothing to do with construction.

He did not seem to notice.

Or perhaps he was pretending.

“Miss Ashford!”

I looked down as Sophie ran toward me.

Her face was pale.

“What happened?”

She held out her hand. A red mark crossed her palm, and tears gathered in her eyes.

“I fell.”

Daniel reached us immediately.

“Let me see.”

Sophie tried to hide the injury behind her back.

“It hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

His voice changed when he spoke to her. The hard edges disappeared.

I opened the first-aid kit beneath the table.

“It’s only a scrape,” I said. “But we need to clean it.”

Sophie shook her head.

Daniel crouched beside her. “Remember what Mom used to say?”

Her lower lip trembled. “Brave doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“It means you do what you need to do anyway.”

She nodded reluctantly.

I cleaned the scrape while Daniel held her other hand. Sophie watched his face instead of mine.

When I finished, I placed a small bandage across her palm.

“There.”

She examined it.

“It’s plain.”

Daniel looked at me. “Apparently, medical care is also judged by appearance.”

“I have better ones in my classroom.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

I walked inside and returned with a box of brightly colored bandages.

Sophie chose one covered in yellow stars.

“Perfect,” she said.

Daniel’s gaze rested on me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You keep saying that.”

“And you keep asking.”

Before he could answer, Principal Collins called me to the main entrance.

My parents had arrived.

My father rarely attended school events. My mother never did unless a photographer was present.

Eleanor wore a cream dress and an expression of polite endurance. My father stood beside her, speaking with two members of the board.

“Victoria,” Mother said, looking at the booth. “So this is what kept you busy.”

“My class designed it.”

Her gaze moved to Daniel.

He was helping Sophie throw a beanbag without using her injured hand.

“Is that the man from last weekend?”

“His name is Daniel Carter.”

My father turned.

“Carter Restoration?”

Daniel looked toward us when he heard his company’s name.

“Yes,” I said carefully.

My father nodded. “They submitted a proposal for the Langford property several years ago.”

“I remember.”

Mother lowered her voice. “Then perhaps you should be careful.”

My stomach tightened. “About what?”

“Men notice opportunities.”

I glanced at Daniel.

He was no longer looking at us. Still, I could not tell how much he had heard.

“He is Sophie’s father,” I said.

“That does not make him unaware of who you are.”

The warning settled exactly where my doubts already lived.

I hated my mother for saying it.

I hated myself more for understanding her.

When I returned to the booth, Daniel handed me the ticket box.

“Your father knows my company.”

“So it seems.”

“He rejected our proposal.”

“I wasn’t involved.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

His expression was calm, but the distance had returned.

I wanted to tell him my mother was wrong.

Instead, I asked, “Did you know he would be here today?”

Daniel stared at me.

The silence between us changed.

Not because I had accused him directly.

Because he understood that I wanted to.

“No,” he said. “I came because my daughter asked me to.”

Then he walked away to help Sophie.

I remained behind the yellow booth, holding the money box between us like proof of something that had never happened.