Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover #2) - Stina Lindenblatt Page 0,23
even ask Chloe the next day about Tabitha’s unexpected visit. There’s no way for me to explain how I know about it without drawing suspicion.
“Maybe Ava can get her to talk about it at lunch. She could ask her how tonight’s PTA meeting went.” I might not specify it, but the comment is directed at Liam—Ava’s husband.
And Liam knows it. “I’m not comfortable dragging my wife into our case. It’s enough that she talked to Principal Woodnut first to get permission for you to be at the school even though you’re not qualified to be a substitute teacher. The less Ava’s involved, the better.
“But I’ll make sure she knows to tell me what Chloe says if she confides in Ava about why Tabitha was there.”
That will have to do.
“Otherwise, I’ll have to hope Chloe brings it up at lunch,” I say.
“Connor, what can you tell us about Tabitha?” Liam asks.
Connor’s our information guy. If there’s anyone who can find out anything, it’s him. Depending on the mission, he can often get information from his FBI contacts if the info isn’t available to him through his normal channels.
I’d be surprised if he hasn’t already done a background search on Tabitha while we’ve been talking.
“She was married to Tim Atkins, a prosecutor and a vocal advocate for giving white-collar criminals longer jail time. They’ve been divorced for a year now.”
Apparently, Tim’s creepy pastime when it came to Chloe didn’t damage his career.
“They have two kids, both attending Dalhousie Elementary School. They share custody. She’s the president of the PTA, which you’re already aware of. She ran a high-end catering company before she married Atkins, and she’s currently a full-time mother.” He lists a bunch of other things, none of which set off any alarms.
“She could be here simply to talk to Chloe about the show,” Adam says.
I wince at the hit made on the Rock player, which sends him flying to the ice. “Assuming that’s who she’s there to see.”
“Keep us updated if you see anything else pertaining to Tabitha’s visit,” Liam tells him.
“Will do.”
“Speaking of the show…Isabelle,” I say, since I have her on the line. “What are the chances of your Grandma Josephine giving me advice about planning a Christmas concert for seniors?”
“Are you asking because she’s a senior and knows that demographic, or because she’s an Academy and Tony Award-winning actress?”
“Let’s go with C: all of the above. Zoe’s the one who’s usually responsible for the school performances. But since she’s on maternity leave—thanks to us—the planning all falls on Chloe. I’ve volunteered to help her, but I know as much about that sort of thing as she does. So I figured—”
“You’d get extra brownie points when it comes to becoming her boyfriend?” Isabelle asks, putting the puzzle pieces together.
“Yep, that pretty much sums it up.”
“You do realize my grandmother doesn’t like to do things half-assed, right?”
I laugh. “Yes, I do realize that.”
“Chloe’s probably thinking something along the lines of the kids singing a few songs. My grandmother will be envisioning something more along the lines of a Broadway-style production. But I can still ask her if you’d like.”
“Yes, please.” That should buy me more than enough brownie points.
Hopefully.
10
Chloe
I pull into my parking spot at the school and turn off the engine. Before I have a chance to climb out of my car, Landon steers into the empty spot next to me.
He waves and gestures for me to wait a moment. I slide out of my vehicle and collect my purse and bag of supplies for the day.
“Mornin’,” he says, coming around to where I’m standing.
“You ready for this?” This being his third day at school.
“Definitely. Isn’t the number one rule when it comes to bears to never let them sense your fear?”
The corners of my mouth twitch. I’d hardly compare kindergarteners to a ferocious forest beast.
They’re more like a combination of Pooh and Tigger: always eager for something sugary and ready to bounce off the walls.
“Good point,” I say. “They’ll be swinging from the lights if they sense your fear. And I’m sure William, the janitor, wouldn’t appreciate that.”
He laughs, and we walk toward the building. The crisp November air is heavy with the promise of rain, and I can almost feel my waves frizz in the lingering dampness.
“Did you have a good night after I dropped you off at your car?” he asks.
“It wasn’t too eventful. I talked to my accountant for you. Sorry, he’s too busy to take on new clients.”