sunshine and color. It wasn’t theoretical for me—it was very practical. If Duncan erased those things from the school, he erased them from my life.
And what if the darkness took back over?
I couldn’t let that happen.
It wasn’t just the school that was in danger. It was me.
But we weren’t going to think about that now. We were going to figure out some way to bring this guy back to life. For his sake, as well as mine—and everybody else’s.
“This is going to work,” Alice said.
“I think he needs to have some good, old-fashioned fun,” Babette said.
I frowned. “Fun?”
“You should take him dancing—what about that line-dancing bar by San Luis Pass? Or that secret disco on Post Office Street? Or even just to the Pleasure Pier. You could ride the merry-go-round, hit the bumper cars … Or—don’t overthink it—just go swimming in the ocean. Go walking down Seawall Boulevard.”
Alice was nodding. “We have to start confronting him with joy.”
“Can you confront someone with joy?” I asked.
“You know…” Alice said, trying to rephrase. “Pelt him with joy. Attack him with it. Joy-bomb him.”
“Joy-bomb him?”
“Yes,” Alice said, like Duh.
“And get him into therapy,” Babette added. Then she made me circle “therapy” on the list twice and put stars all around it.
She wasn’t wrong. We weren’t professionals. It seemed pretty clear that he was dealing with some hefty post-traumatic stress disorder, and none of us were really qualified to cure that. So therapy would be a cornerstone of this plan.
“Good luck with that,” Alice said, and as I pictured Duncan’s stony face, he did not strike me like a willing candidate for therapy, either.
But Babette wasn’t worried. “Trust me,” she said. “I’ve got a guy.”
It was so fun to see Babette taking on a project. The fog around her seemed to burn off at the prospect of helping someone. And of course, helping Duncan meant helping all of us. And the school, too. And potentially putting everything—well, almost everything—back the way it should be.
* * *
When the flow of ideas finally started slowing down, it hit me that I had no idea how we were going to make him do all these things
“Babette,” I said then, feeling suddenly worried. “How exactly are we going to get him to cooperate?”
“Oh, that’ll be easy,” Babette said, with a little wink.
“Nothing is ever easy with Duncan,” I said.
“Now it’s time for me to share a little secret,” Babette said.
“Okay,” Alice and I said, leaning in.
“After Max died,” Babette said, “the board asked me to take over.”
Alice and I looked at each other.
Babette went on, “But I refused.”
“I knew it,” I whispered.
“Actually,” Babette said. “They didn’t just ask. ‘Begged’ would be a better word.”
“But you were too overwhelmed by grief to take it on?” Alice asked.
Babette nodded.
“So you let them hire Duncan,” I said, nodding.
“Honestly, right then, I was too numb to care who they hired.”
“I get it,” I said.
Babette pulled her reading glasses down her nose. “But that doesn’t change who I am. Max and I built this school. And nothing happens here without my say-so.”
“Are you saying things aren’t as bleak as they seem?”
Babette gave me a smile.
“Are you saying Kent Buckley is not the final word on everything?”
Her smile got bigger.
I smacked my hand on the table. “I knew Max wouldn’t have left us with that dude in charge,” I said.
“Here’s what I need you to know,” Babette said. “I could have both of them fired tomorrow.”
“You could?” Alice asked.
“But I’m not going to.”
“You’re not?” I asked.
Babette shook her head.
“Why not?” Alice asked.
Babette glanced up at the heavens. “Because Kent Buckley is married to my daughter, and so that could make things awkward. And because you like Duncan. And I like Duncan, actually. And I think he’s got potential. And he needs our help.”
“So if there’s a way to fix things amicably, that’s what you prefer?” Alice asked.
“Exactly,” Babette said.
I nodded. I got it.
“And frankly,” Babette added, “I wouldn’t mind a project. Something to redeem this whole, inexcusable year.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
“So here’s how it’s going to work,” Babette said. “You’re going to tell him that he has to do one thing I ask of him every day—maybe a small thing, maybe a bigger thing—and that if he agrees to all my demands, I won’t fire him right away.” She smiled. “But I still reserve the right to fire him later.”
Alice looked at Babette in awe. “So we’re blackmailing him.”
She shrugged. “In a good way.”
“What if he says no?” I asked.
She shrugged again. “Then he’s