Dead Heat (Alpha and Omega) - Patricia Briggs Page 0,59

of beef she was thinking of eating for dinner. Like Ms. Edison, she was scared of him. He hadn’t been able to smell the principal’s fear, but he’d heard her heart rate speed up. But unlike with the principal, fear seemed to excite Ms. Newman. Brother Wolf much preferred Ms. Edison’s avoidance to Ms. Newman’s flirtation.

A bell rang from somewhere in the building, and Ms. Newman’s face fell. “That’s my cue, I’m afraid. It was very nice talking with you,” she said to Charles. “I look forward to seeing you again when you bring your child in.”

“Ms. Newman,” said Anna in a low voice.

Ms. Newman dragged her attention off Charles. Anna put her hand on him and leaned toward the other woman, who stepped back; smart woman.

“You need to understand something,” she said intensely. “Charles is my husband. You can’t have him. Mine. Not yours. There are lots of nice, unattached men out there, I’m sure. Pick one of them and you might live longer.” Then her body relaxed and her voice regained its usual cheeriness. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Newman.”

As they left, Charles turned back toward the teacher and shrugged helplessly. Then he put on his meekest face and turned around to follow Anna.

“I saw that,” she muttered at him.

“Saw what?” asked Charles in mock innocence. Brother Wolf was pleased with her claiming of them. So was Charles.

She gave him a look that made him smile, then knocked on the door of the room that bore a temporary paper sign that said miss baird in big block letters. Behind the door, decorated hopefully with spring flowers and bright green leaves, the strains of cello music wafted out. Charles recognized a recording of Yo-Yo Ma that he often listened to himself. The soon-to-be-unemployed Miss Baird had good taste in music.

The woman who answered Anna’s knock looked sad underneath her warm smile. She was very young, a little younger than his wife, he thought. Like Ms. Newman, she smelled entirely human.

Her ash-blond hair was cut short to reveal the bright purple elephant earrings that were the same color as her bright purple shirt. The bright colors only served to emphasize the depression that weighed down her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing perfume at all—which meant he already liked her better than Ms. Newman.

“Hello,” she said cautiously. “Ms. Edison told me to expect you. She also said she told you that I’m leaving at the end of the week.”

Anna nodded. “Yes. We’d still like to speak with you if you don’t mind.”

Miss Baird’s look sharpened, but she backed up and opened the door to invite them in. Her room was not as big as the very-available Ms. Newman’s, but it was decorated with art obviously created by her five-year-old students.

One student was washing a whiteboard with a spray bottle and an ink-stained rag, her back to them. She seemed totally engrossed in cleaning the board. There was a stiffness to her movements that didn’t please Brother Wolf, who always looked for things that were ill or off.

The teacher saw his glance.

“Amethyst is choosing not to sing today, so the music teacher sent her back here. Choice is fine, but it is a choice between music and work, not music and play.”

He’d thought initially that she was a submissive person, and that would indeed mean trouble while she was trying to run a class of young children. But that firm voice was plenty dominant. So her defeated greeting of them probably had more to do with the temporary nature of her employment than her usual personality.

“This is the five-year-olds’ classroom,” she said to him and Anna in the same tone she’d used on Amethyst. “It’s the smallest class until later in the year. The children who are five in the fall started kindergarten, so we only have the children who were five after the beginning of September. This class will grow as the four-year-olds in Ms. Newman’s class turn five. The kindergarten kids, who go to public school for half the day, go in an entirely different classroom. We do have an after-school program for older children divided by grades—first and second graders, third and fourth graders, fifth and above.”

She looked at them both, shoved her glasses more firmly on her nose, and said in a faintly accusatory tone, “But you aren’t here for that, are you?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the girl cleaning the whiteboard and lowered her voice. “I thought you looked familiar, but I only just this moment