Chapter 7: What She Couldn't Buy
861 Words
Victoria arrived at the hardware store wearing heels that had no business being near lumber.
The sound of them followed her across the concrete floor, sharp and precise. She carried a leather handbag on one arm and the school’s budget folder beneath the other.
“You’re early,” I said.
“So are you.”
“I’m always early.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Principal Collins had asked us to purchase the materials for the spring fair booth together. Victoria handled the school paperwork. I handled everything that required knowing the difference between plywood and particleboard.
She took the list from my hand.
“Why are there three kinds of screws?”
“Because we’re building a booth, not hanging a picture.”
“I know that.”
“You asked.”
“I asked because I want to understand the cost.”
There it was.
The word she trusted most.
Cost.
I pushed the cart toward the lumber section. “The parent committee already approved the budget.”
“That doesn’t mean we should spend carelessly.”
I glanced at her.
She was studying the list with real concentration, not pretending for my benefit.
“That surprises you,” she said.
“What?”
“That I care how the school’s money is used.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You have a very expressive silence.”
We stopped beside the plywood.
Victoria touched the smooth surface of the most expensive sheet.
“This one looks better.”
“It is better. It is also unnecessary.”
“My family foundation could cover the difference.”
“No.”
Her hand dropped.
“You reject every offer before I finish making it.”
“Because I already know the offer.”
“You assume you know.”
“You want to pay more so the booth looks perfect.”
“And what is wrong with that?”
“It is for seven-year-olds throwing beanbags. They won’t care if the wood is imported.”
Her lips tightened.
For a moment, I thought she would argue.
Instead, she looked at the cheaper sheet again.
“Will it be safe?”
“Yes.”
“Will it survive more than one fair?”
“Yes.”
“Then we use this one.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That sounded like another expressive silence.”
This time, I did smile.
Only for a second.
She noticed.
I could tell because she immediately looked away.
We moved to the paint aisle.
Victoria examined the samples carefully.
“Yellow,” she said.
“Too bright.”
“Sophie likes yellow.”
I turned toward her.
She kept her attention on the color cards.
“How do you know that?”
“She uses it in every drawing. Even when the sun isn’t part of the picture.”
I had seen the drawings. I had not noticed the pattern.
“She feels safer near warm colors,” Victoria continued. “At least, I think she does.”
The answer was thoughtful. Careful.
Nothing like the woman who had accused me of expecting favors.
“You pay attention to her.”
“She’s my student.”
“That’s not the only reason.”
Her expression closed.
I had pushed too far.
She placed the yellow sample in the cart.
At the register, the cashier recognized her.
“Miss Ashford, your mother’s gala was beautiful.”
Victoria’s posture changed instantly.
Her shoulders straightened. Her smile became polished.
She answered questions about the event, the foundation, and her family with perfect patience. By the time we reached the parking lot, the smile had disappeared.
“You do that well,” I said.
“Buy school supplies?”
“Become whoever people expect.”
She stopped beside her car.
“That is a very personal observation.”
“It wasn’t meant as an insult.”
“That doesn’t make it appropriate.”
“No.”
She opened the trunk.
I loaded the paint and tools while she checked the receipt against the approved budget.
“You saved the school forty-three dollars,” I said.
She looked up.
“Are you mocking me?”
“No.”
Suspicion remained in her eyes.
I leaned against the cart.
“You were right to check.”
Something in her expression shifted.
Not softness exactly.
More like surprise.
“I’m not irresponsible simply because I have money,” she said.
“I’m starting to understand that.”
“And I don’t try to control everyone.”
“I’m not ready to agree with that one.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
It was quiet and brief, but real.
For the first time, I understood why Sophie liked her so quickly.
The sound changed her entire face.
Victoria closed the trunk and stepped back.
“I’ll see you Saturday, Mr. Carter.”
“Daniel.”
She hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“Saturday, Daniel.”
It was only my name.
But coming from her, it felt like the first thing she had given me that money had nothing to do with.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD