Page 100 of Truck Off

“That’d be great.” Mrs. Hoffman shares a look with Mrs. Engles. The suspicious gleam in their eyes has me glancing between them. Those two are known to plot and spread gossip like an out-of-control wildfire. My defenses immediately go up.

I’m almost afraid to ask what that look means, but I do it anyway. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes. Everything is fine.” Mrs. Hoffman gives me a gentle smile.

“We were talking to Sharon. The woman who organizes the Chillicothe street fairs,” Mrs. Engle says. She looks over at me and waits for my confirmation that I know who she’s talking about. “Well, she told us how successful your little art class was and, well …” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “We were hoping you’d be interested in doing something like that here.”

“You want me to teach classes? At the community center?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Hoffman says without hesitation. “You know how we take a survey every year and ask what the community would like to see? An offering of classes was at the top of the list. We’d love it if you’d consider taking that on and teaching the first round of classes.” She looks over at me with a hopeful gaze. “If you have the time.”

“Um …” I glance around the room, surprised by how excited everyone looks about this prospect. “But I don’t have any formal training. I didn’t go to college.”

“Pish posh.” Mrs. Hoffman waves me off. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years working in the school system, it’s that college isn’t everything. Life and career skills can be learned anywhere. You’re talented and, from what I hear, a skilled teacher.”

“She’s the best!” Lucy chimes in. “She’s taught me everything I know about art.”

I smile at her excitement. “What kind of classes did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mrs. Hoffman says. “Maybe some painting and knitting classes to start. Anything that you’re comfortable teaching. If those go over well, which I suspect they will, I’d like to expand. Turn the back part of this building into an art wing or studio. I’ve been looking into some grants that would allow us to buy supplies and equipment. We may be a small community, but we’re a creative one. There’s a strong interest in pottery and woodworking too.”

“I’ve never done either of those things.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure we can find someone willing to teach some classes. But let’s start with your skills. Once you’ve found a good groove, then you can look into adding other types of classes.”

“Me? You want me to look into other classes?”

“Well, yes. I want you to be the art director. It’ll be a part-time job. But if we get this grant, someone will have to take it over.”

“So you’ve already applied for a grant?” My heart is beating wildly, and my mind is racing trying to keep up with this conversation.

“We did. Even worked in a salary for a director. You’re our first pick to take on the role, but if you’re not interested …” Mrs. Hoffman trails off, staring at me with wide eyes.

“You’re offering me a job?” I press my hand to my chest. The pounding of my heart reaching my hand.

“Yes. It wouldn’t start until the fall, but we wanted to give you plenty of time to think about it.”

“When will you know if you got the grant?”

“We’ve already been told we made the first rounds of approval. Now it’s really just paperwork. As long as nothing changes regarding the funding source, it’s a done deal. Three years of funding with the opportunity for renewal.”

“Are you sure I’m the best choice? I mean, with my—” I cut myself off, not able to bring up my family history or the way so many in this community look at me. I want this, but I can’t let myself get excited about something that I’m a terrible fit for.

“Lina, there isn’t anyone else we want filling this role. You’re the perfect fit.” Mrs. Hoffman leans over and squeezes my hand. “Let’s schedule a time to talk next week to discuss specifics. Think about it and give us an answer after we talk more.”

I nod, glancing around. Everyone is smiling at me with looks of encouragement. “Okay, sounds good.”

Everyone turns back to their knitting like I wasn’t just offered a life-changing opportunity. I’m sure the pay won’t be a lot, but the opportunity to teach classes on top of running the program will add some much needed income to my bank account.

Who knows, maybe it will result in more sales for completed projects too. Sometimes getting to know the artist leads to increased chances of a sale. That’s why street fairs are usually more successful for me than selling on consignment.

I glance over at Lucy, who’s curled up next to Hannah, working on the scarf I’m teaching her to knit. The pure look of happiness on Hannah’s face makes me smile. It’s good to see her happy for a change. For the longest time, she never smiled. I’m glad Lucy brings this side out of her.

Hell, even I’m smiling more than I used to. But my smiles are not because of the little girl sitting across from me. It’s not even because of the job I was just offered.

All my smiles are because of Chase. Three months ago, if someone had told me I’d be in a relationship with Chase Mutter before summer’s end, I would have laughed in their face and called them a liar. Now I can’t imagine my life without him.

And I’m trying really hard not to let that fact freak me out.

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