Sugar and Spice - Chapter Twenty-Five

 Chapter Twenty-five

October 22 Wednesday morning

Elise Hanson’s Office HJPS

Cambridge, Massachusetts

 

ELISE HANSON POURED her own tea and headed back to her desk. The office was quiet. Her secretary had a doctor’s appointment with her gynecologist and probably would not be back until after lunch. Better her than me, she thought, followed by, “I hope she’s not pregnant.”

Outside her window, calm prevailed. The sun backlit the red and yellow leaves on the trees along the fence that was between the school property and the main road. The reporters had disappeared to cover a fire and some Boston City Hall scandal.

Thank God for short attention spans, she thought. Why had she ever considered a career in journalism when she was younger? Except for the last few days, she felt she’d made the correct career choice.

The board seemed content with the choice to let the four girls back in after the investigation. The idea they were just writing a play was a logical reason. No crime had been committed. Stupid little girl games was the verdict. Elise wasn’t sure that they weren’t taking the easy way out.

Clay Franklin’s parents, however, did not want to return their son to HJSP. They moved fast. The Friends School had accepted Clay even if it was mid-term. Although the date of tuition was passed the board and the parents accepted Elise’s idea to pro-rate the tuition to the number of days that Clay had attended. Elise had dealt with their lawyer, not the parents.

A calm week was all she wanted and that even looked possible. She needed to approve the changes to the website and the school handbook. Carrying her cup and saucer to the couch she placed them on the coffee table, making sure to use a coaster. Living with valuable antiques could be nerve wracking.

Elise had just finished page three of the handbook without making a change when there was a knock on her door. “Enter.”

Instead of a student or a teacher, a woman somewhere between late thirties and early forties, she guessed, peeked around the door and stopped when she saw Elise on the couch.

“Excuse me for coming without an appointment.”

Elise stood.

“I’m Heidi Lander, Amanda’s mother.”

Shit, Elise thought. There goes my quiet productive morning. “Please come in. May I get you some coffee? Tea?”

Heidi shook her head. Then she started to cry.

Automatically, Elise went for her tissue box in her desk’s top right drawer. Crying students, teachers and parents were part of the job. The Boy Scouts motto “be prepared” made good sense.

In between sobs, Heidi handed Elise the folder with all the printouts from Amanda’s laptop to Elise, who began to read, often turning back a page and rereading. “Wow.” Elise had been taught silence was often the best way to get information, but the wow slipped out.

“I don’t know what to do.” Heidi blew her nose. If she’d been wearing mascara, her cheeks would have been rivers of black.

Elise thought the mother was one of these women who had an easy life, with help in the house, not having to work, the chance to shop for stylish clothes, always time to get their hair colored and cut perfectly, which Heidi’s highlighted brown hair certainly was. Then she remembered that Heidi at one time ran her own business.

It wasn’t jealousy on Elise’s part that she resented Heidi. Even a cursory look at the printouts Heidi had brought told Elise that this woman had huge problems.

“Her father won’t believe it. If I go to the police, they might put her in jail. I don’t want her to be in jail.” The crying started again.

“Where is your husband now?”

“On . . .” sob . . . “a business trip. He’ll . . .” sob . . . “be back Saturday or Sunday.”

“Have you talked to a lawyer?”

Heidi shook her head and used the tissue, now shredded, to wipe her face and blow her nose. Elise handed her a new one.

“If I talk to him, he’ll be on the phone to Vernon within seconds. You have to understand; I have no say in our marriage or in Amanda’s upbringing.”

Elise had often wondered why women gave away their power, but she knew even as a single woman who had had two live-in relationships that it could be an easy path to follow. She’d quit both relationships when she found her choices weren’t their choices, but she had always had independent work, and the living space had been hers. She could be wrong, but maybe Heidi was totally dependent on her husband for financial support. This was not the time to say anything.

“Can you go to your brother-in-law?” As soon as she said it, Elise regretted it. The last thing they needed was any political influence.

Heidi shrugged. Elise said nothing more as she thumbed through the printouts. She’d had enough child psychology courses to know Amanda was dangerous to herself and others. “Let’s call the detective Bill Reardon,

 

“They’ll lock her up.”

Elise thought that might be a good thing, but not in a jail cell. The child needed help. In one of her conversations with Reardon, he had expressed how perplexed he was. At the time Elise wondered if class was making a difference between how Reardon would treat the Amandas of the world to a slum kid. She also sensed an overwhelming mental exhaustion, but she didn’t say anything.

“Let me call Reardon.” Before Heidi could say no, she had Reardon on the phone.