its entrance and a front lawn that could easily host an RV-and-boat fair.
It was Friday and raining, and that meant that the parking lot was packed with high-end cars and moms wielding designer galoshes and matching umbrellas. Regan had just finished her second tour of the parking lot when she gave up and parked down the street by the school’s Performing Arts Building.
“He’s just one man. His opinion doesn’t matter,” she said, flipping down the visor. She gasped when she saw her face. Eyes red, nose even redder, she looked like a woman who had spent the last seven blocks bawling her eyes out. Which she had. Because no matter how many times she told herself that she could do this, that she wouldn’t let some man hurt her again, it didn’t stop the tears from coming.
After a good blow of the nose and a new layer of cover-up, Regan stepped out of the car and, dollar store umbrella in hand, ran down the block. The wind blasted her, causing her umbrella to bend backward.
By the time she made it inside the school, she was officially drenched and reality had set in. All she could do now was find the bathroom, transform herself into some believable form of successful mommy, and then face ChiChi. No matter what the older woman wanted to talk about, Regan understood that she would have to withdraw Holly from the school. She was jobless, practically broke, and, come Sunday, homeless. Talk about humiliating.
She passed the front office, the glass display case that was filled with photos of last year’s graduates in front of the Arc de Triomphe, and had just opened the bathroom door when something caught her eye.
Full-color flyers hung on each stall, one after the next, all the same, spanning the entire length of the bathroom, and making Regan’s palms sweat.
“Missing: Randolph and Christmas Cheer. A $5,000 reward for the safe return of St. Helena’s most beloved mammal.”
It even had the heart-melting photo of Gabe when he was a boy hugging the ceramic statue. Dropping to her hands and knees, she checked to ensure that every last stall was empty. Coast clear, she scrambled to her feet and went to work, ripping down one, then the next. She got to six when she noticed that Randolph’s sad little face was also plastered on the insides of the stalls. They must have been posted by the high school basketball team because some were taped to the ceiling, dangling like banners.
Hiking up her skirt, she closed the lid on the first toilet, crawled on top, and, teetering dangerously on her heels, gave a hard tug on the flyer just as someone cleared their throat.
Frozen, hand in mid-rip, Regan turned to find herself staring down at not one but three gawking grannies. Besides their clothes, they looked like a trio of Mrs. Clauses: all with white hair. All with little round glasses perched on their noses. And all looking up at Regan like she had lost her mind.
Regan did what any grown woman would do when caught committing a crime. She stepped off the toilet, shoved the flyers behind her back, and slammed the stall door. Then she sat on the toilet lid and pulled her legs up to her chest.
Maybe if she closed her eyes and waited long enough they would forget that she was in there. And leave.
The seconds ticked by. Regan heard the squeak of someone’s orthopedic shoes, followed by the clicking of kitten heels, getting closer. She shut her eyes and rested her head against her knees. She would wait until the Mrs. Clauses left, grab Holly, and e-mail ChiChi with the sad news. They could be halfway back to Oregon before the humiliation of the day’s events even hit.
Then what? She had no job or house there either. No real support system. And she would be no closer to securing Holly’s Christmas wish.
The stall door flew open, slamming against the wall with enough force to shatter the tiles. Regan opened her eyes and looked at the Mrs. Clauses, who were, surprisingly, smiling.
“Hi, ChiChi,” Regan began, wondering how, if at all, she was going to get through this conversation. She had lost her last hope of finding gainful employment in this town. Holly was going to be devastated to lose her forever home with a kitty of her very own and a best friend.
And now Regan was a wanted deer-napper who had, for the second time in so many days, vandalized the