The Teacher (28 page)

“Brayden, eat your
vegetables.” Marcus felt his son tense at his grandmother’s demand.

Brayden turned his nose up
and looked to his father.

“You know, Brayden,” Emma
said, leaning in close. “If you want to become as strong as your dad and hit
game winning shots in tennis or make baskets from half court like him, you have
to eat your broccoli. It’ll help your muscles grow big like your dad’s.”

Brayden looked skeptical and
then stared down at Marcus’s plate, broccoli still untouched.

“Dad hasn’t eaten his
broccoli,” he replied to Emma. She looked across at him with her glistening
eyes and tilted her head to the side. She was setting him up, she knew he
didn’t like broccoli, but he could also hear her voice telling him that Brayden
will do what he does, before he does what he tells him to do. Dropping his
sandwich on his plate, he picked up his fork and pierced a piece of broccoli.
Even covered in mayonnaise dressing and dotted with bits of bacon the vegetable
still didn’t appeal to him. Popping it in his mouth, he smiled and chewed.

“Mmmm,” he said, “I can feel
myself getting stronger already. Try some Bray.” And Brayden did, eating up the
small mound of broccoli on his plate.

Maricella cleared the table
and left a plate of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. Marcus reached for it
and held it out to Emma. “Cookie?” he offered, ignoring the jilted look on his
mother’s face. “Or are you too full from all of Maricella’s fantastic cooking?”

“Who could resist one of
these?” She played along, choosing one from the plate and smiling as they
shared a private moment together. The sound of his mother clearing her throat
broke in and Marcus passed the plate to Brayden before Luke took it and passed
it to his parents.

“Marcus, dear,” his mother’s
voice pleaded for his attention.

“Yes Mother?”

“I have a list of errands
for you and Luke to run this afternoon. I’m afraid the jet-lag is catching up
with me and I must rest before this evening.”

“Of course, Mother,” he
consented. “Let’s go get your hair combed Brayden and you can come help your
Uncle Luke and me.”

“Doesn’t the child need to
rest before tonight,” his mother chimed in. “Perhaps he should stay here with
the nanny.” Her eyes glanced to Emma.

“He can rest when we get
back. I’d like to have him keep us company and Ms. Hewitt is Brayden’s teacher,
not the nanny.”

Marcus stood. His mother’s
eyes flitted to Emma and then back to him.

“Oh,” she continued. “I
forgot to mention your aunt Catrina is bringing her niece, Daniella, from L.A.
this evening. She’s a graduate from Stanford law, doing a clerkship with a
circuit court judge. She’s a lovely girl. I’m sure you two will have lots in
common to talk about.” There was an eagerness in his mother’s voice and he knew
exactly what she meant by a lovely girl. A girl she had hand selected as a
potential bride for him.

“That’s wonderful, Mother,”
Marcus said, faking his enthusiasm. “We should be sure to let Maricella know to
set an extra place then.”

*     *     *

For once Emma was thankful
for her room’s distance from the rest of the house. It was quiet here. A quick
check of her phone showed she’d missed a call from her sister and there was a
message. She connected to her voicemail and punched in her password.

“Hellooo, Emma. It’s your
sis’r! I haven’t heard from you all week. I just wan’d t’say hi and tell you I
found the most
amazing
, Burberry cashmere scarf today shopping with Lacy
and I got it for you. Oh, Em, it’s t’die for, but I guess you’ll hafta wait
‘til you’re back in town to ged’it. Love you, love you. Bye.”

Audrey’s voice was as bubbly
as a fresh bottle of champagne. The cheerful thickness of her words was a
complete contradiction to their last conversation. Emma found it odd to hear
her sister so stripped of affection one day and then drenched in delight the
next. There was something about the call that didn’t set well with Emma, but
she couldn’t put her finger on it. Well, whatever it was, Emma was glad to be back
on her sister’s good side.

Emma missed another call
when she was in the shower. This time it was from Finn. His voice was tight and
thick with his Irish accent.

“Emma, it’s me Finn. I need
to talk to you. It’s about Audrey. You won’t be able to reach me on my cell. I,
um, I’ll try to call again soon. Okay, Bye.”

A siren sounded in the
background before his call ended. She couldn’t imagine why Finn wanted to talk
to her about Audrey. And his voice sounded lifeless, not full of merriment like
it usually did. The combination of the two odd phone calls left her ill at
ease. Just one or the other wouldn’t set off any alarms, but two calls in one
day from her sister and brother-in-law worried her.

She was late for the seven
o’clock serving of hors d’oeuvres, so she switched her phone to vibrate and
slid it into her clutch. If either of them called again, she would step away
and take it.

Passing through the dining
room Emma noticed two women she’d never seen before, covered in starched aprons
efficiently setting the extended table. Outside on the patio dozens of Chinese
lanterns were set ablaze around the perimeter. She searched the strange faces
outside, but the only one she recognized was Mrs. Lewis who immediately shot
her a look of surprise. Turning away from the woman, Emma looked at the
beautiful spread of appetizers on the table at the edge of the patio. Maricella
breezed by her with another tray of beautifully stuffed mushrooms.

“Everything looks beautiful,
Maricella,” Emma whispered, stepping in behind the housekeeper, who only
briefly made eye contact with her before returning to the kitchen and remaining
invisible to the rest of the guests.

“There you are.” She heard
Marcus say from behind her. When she turned, she saw he carried two glasses of
champagne and smiled in the gentle easy way she was becoming so used to.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m a
little late. I just couldn’t get my hair to cooperate.” She’d been trying to
create something classic and stylish, but she’d given up and settled on a low
side ponytail instead.

“You look stunning,” Marcus
whispered, leaning in close to her ear and she felt goose bumps creep up her
arms. Her moment was ruined when she caught sight of Mrs. Lewis watching them.
She was talking with another woman, whose frozen expression suggested a recent
shot of Botox.

“Who’s that?” She read from
the lips of the Botox woman.

“Oh, just some summer fling,
I’m sure,” Mrs. Lewis scoffed, failing to lower her voice before turning her
back on them.

Marcus handed her a glass of
champagne and she quickly took a sip from it, thankful to have something to
take the edge off what could be a very trying night.

“Have I told you how
beautiful you look in that dress?” he asked, admiring her.

“No, you haven’t,” she said unable
to resist smiling at the complement. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks.
She’d wished she’d had something different than the same dress she wore the
night they went dancing. But her closet wasn’t teaming with cocktail dresses
and this was the most appropriate thing she had for tonight. Silently she sent
another thank you to Stacy. Emma took a swallow of champagne and then smiled
nervously at Marcus.

“You okay?” he asked her.

She nodded, “Just a little
nervous, who are all these people?”

“Well,” Marcus said, turning
to stand beside her. “There’s Luke and his entirely inappropriate friend,
Kimmy. I’m not exactly sure where he met her or what she does and I don’t think
I want to know.” The woman, a platinum blonde, was dressed in a bright red
strapless dress that scarcely covered her body from bust line to mid-thigh. Her
cleavage looked ready to escape and Emma worried that with one false move the
entire dress just might burst open.

“The man over there ogling
Luke’s date is Uncle Bill,” Marcus continued.

“And I can see his run in
with the tennis court this morning left its mark,” Emma added. Uncle Bill had a
quarter-sized abrasion in the middle of his forehead and his nose was shiny red
where the skin rubbed off.

“Yes, the mark of a loser,”
Marcus said, smiling at her. “The woman over there with mother is Uncle Bill’s
fourth wife, Catrina. And that’s her niece Daniella. My cousin Rich is over
there with father and his second wife, Kennedy. They’re expecting their first
child together in December.” The woman’s hair reminded her of Audrey’s, a
beautiful chestnut brown. Her delicate frame was just beginning to show the
first signs of pregnancy under her ice blue empire waist dress.

“And the old man over there.
That would be my grandfather.” Marcus’s grandfather was a relic of a once regal
man. Emma could see the same look in his eye that Marcus had and even though
his shoulders were hunched and he relied on a wooden cane for support, he still
looked powerful.

“It’s quite a family you
have,” Emma told him.

“They’re an entertaining
lot, that’s for sure. What do you say we go mingle now?” He offered her his
arm.

She smiled and took his arm,
confident she could conquer this crowd with him by her side.

They finally settled into a
conversation with Luke and Kimmy, who chimed in with words like, “for sure,”
and “whatever”.

Dinner was served in the
dimly lit dining room. Emma sat on the corner between Marcus and Mrs. Lewis.
Emma listened to the conversation and noticed she and Kimmy were the only ones
not contributing.

There was talk of the stock
market, the economy, the president and then it turned to the family’s law firm.
Bill, who was up from the L.A. office talked about upping his charges for some
of his clients, so they could continue paying out their five-figure bonuses
next year. Emma choked on her sip of water trying to imagine a bonus being
dropped into her bank account merely for doing her job. Bill must have noticed
her sputtering, because he turned his attention to her.

“I’m sorry, did you say
something, Emma?” he asked.

“No,” she replied meekly. “I
was just a little surprised, that’s a lot of money to give someone for just
doing their job.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never
gotten a bonus check?” he said, raising an eyebrow.   

Emma shook her head.

“Emma is a teacher,” Marcus
said and Bill nodded.

“Ahhh, that’s right,” Bill
said. “Public school, right?”

“Yes,” Emma said, feeling
everyone’s eyes on her.

“Kindergarten?”

Emma nodded, thinking to
herself,
Great. Here it comes snack and naps. That’s all they think I do.

“Well, now that would be the
reason dear.” Bill leaned into the table, softening his voice as if he was
speaking to a child. “In our line of work we deal with very important people,
helping them invest their money, align their estates, follow laws. It can get
very technical and very stressful. We need to reward our hard working attorneys
so they stay motivated. It’s not like kindergarten where you serve milk from
cartons and put everyone down for an afternoon nap.”

Bill smirked and let out a
little chuckle at his performance, his face turning red.

Marcus shifted in his seat. She
could sense that he was about to say something in her defense. She had to think
fast and say something, anything. If she didn’t it would make her look as
pitiful as she felt right now.

Taking a deep breath, she
started to speak, “We don’t take naps in kindergarten.”

Her eyes locked onto Uncle
Bill’s and she saw him cock an eyebrow, amused.

“There really isn’t time in
the day for it,” she continued and Uncle Bill inclined his head, deepening the
smirk on his round face. She was going to have to give him something more than
that if she was going to compete with his perception of her. “I teach reading,
writing and math. We spend a lot of time interacting, doing science projects,
building experiments, and developing lifelong skills.”

“Like cutting paper with
scissors and singing the ABCs. Of course, Emma dear, we all know what you do.
We’ve been to kindergarten. It’s just no wonder our teachers are so complacent
these days, teaching the same lessons, day after day. It must get nauseatingly
boring for you all. That’s why I’ve been talking to our legislators about more teacher
incentives. Wouldn’t you agree Emma that teachers would perform better if they were
rewarded for achievements?” Bill looked so smug and pleased with himself.

“I cannot speak for other
teachers, Mr. Lewis, but my motivation comes from seeing the spark in a child’s
eye when he learns something new or suddenly discovers he can read or gives me
a picture drawn and scribed from his heart. That reward has more value to me
than any number printed on a check.”

“You are very noble. But
when your clients expect more from you than a gold star for tying their shoes,
then maybe you would feel differently.” Bill sat back in his chair, probably
assuming he’d ended his argument, but Emma wasn’t about to let him have the
last word.