Page 70 of The Billionaire's One-Night Stand Nanny
But I also knew it was too late.
CHAPTER33
Flora
It was freezingand still nearly pitch-black the next morning as I bundled myself out of the subway and half-jogged down the tree-lined street that led to my school. Not for the first time, I wished impotently for a black car, a driver who would nod and roll the divider up and take the quick route, the back way with less traffic that only professionals knew about. Someday, when Hazel was pastry chef to the city’s elite, I’d remind her of that two thousand dollar loan and insist she allow me free use of her limousine, or whatever. Until then… I took a few deep breaths before I pushed through the school doors and walked, calm and controlled, to Principal Adams’s office for the meeting that would determine if I was going to continue on as a permanent employee. I had been doing a great job, and I loved it here, and there was no reason to be worried. Still, I’d woken up in the middle of a restless night’s sleep remembering the meeting half a year ago when my last job came to an abrupt end.We’ve loved having you as a part of our school family, but…
I interlaced my fingers on my lap to keep from fidgeting as the principal nodded over her desk at me, shuffling a collection of papers I knew were my monthly reports, my lesson plans.
“Well,” she said at last. She looked up at me with a pleased smile. “I’m afraid this will be a short meeting, and you’ve come all the way out here early from…” She checked her files. “Brooklyn,” she said, eyebrows raised. “Dedication,” she said, huffing out a short laugh.
My heart was in my throat. I squeezed my hands together.Please.The word ricocheted around in my brain.I can’t lose this.
Too,my heart added.I can’t lose this, too.
“I won’t keep you in suspense. We’ve been very pleased with your performance.”
My chest fell and I realized I’d been holding my breath. “Thank you,” I said.
She nodded. “You’re very welcome. You’ve been a wonderful addition to our school. You know, Charlie said you were good, but even still, you’ve impressed me, Miss Connelly.”
Charlie?The only Charlie I knew of was Charlie Martin, and it wasn’t like I reallyknewhim. I hadn’t seen him since the time he–since the last time I’d seen him.Don’t blush, Flora. Don’t blush.But I was too curious not to ask.
“Sorry,” I said, “Charlie?”
“Yes,” she said, over the top of her manila folder. “Charlie Martin.”
“Not… James?” I asked.Perhaps Edie had said something to him…?It didn’t make sense.
And my question didn’t make sense, either. The principal was now wearing an unfamiliar expression of confusion.
“I think I would know which of the Martin brothers donates to my school’s endowment, Miss Connelly,” she said with raised eyebrows. “No, it was Charlie Martin. He was the one who recommended you. Oh, and a parent.” My heart stopped beating, the blood slowing to a crawl in my veins, as she flipped through the papers in my file. She pulled out a typed paper with a scrawled note paperclipped to the top. “Yes, here it is. From Ryan Walker.” She held it out.
The note was brief and to the point:
The one I was telling you about. - Charlie
I flipped it out of the way to read the letter.
Principal Adams,
I’m writing to recommend to you Flora Connelly for the position of fifth grade teacher.
There was a sudden sting behind my nose and I stopped reading abruptly. Icouldn’tcry, not here, not like this. At the foot of the page was a signature.Sincerely, Ryan Walker.
“I didn’t know,” I murmured.
“Yes, well,” Principal Adams chuckled. “You can pass along my thanks to them. Their recommendation landed me a fantastic addition to our staff.”
I wandered from the principal’s office to my empty classroom in a daze. What did it mean? Ryan had been the one to recommend me for this position. AndCharlie Martin?I’d only met him once–if you could call being caught in Ryan’s kitchen meeting someone–and I’d gotten the placement before that.He donates to the school’s endowment,Principal Adams had said. Why would someone like Charlie Martin drop my name in the principal’s ear? There was only one explanation: Ryan had asked him to.
But why?
Because he wanted to help. It was the obvious answer. Ryan was that kind of person. He would call in a favor for a friend. Put a word in for someone who needed something that he was serendipitously able to provide. He’d offered to pay my rent, I remembered with a start, the very first morning when we had walked together to Central Park, and he hadn’t even known me for twenty-four hours.
But had it been just a favor for his nanny, something he would have done for anyone?
Or had it been forme, Flora?
