Page 18 of Christmas with the Baby Daddy

It had been on my mind a lot lately. While it could seem defeatist and cowardly to escape the situation of bullying at school, it would serve a bigger purpose of starting out fresh with my son. Outside of Vernford, I could have the freedom to start my own restaurant and catering business like I’d always dreamed of. And I could do so without complicating anything with Jenny’s business here.

Sara:For the thousandth time, B, you don’t have to worry about being Jenny’s competition. Vernford can have more than one caterer.

I replied with a shrug emoji. Maybe I wouldn’t have to, but it was a sticking point for me. My loyalty ran too deep to make Jenny’s life difficult. After all these years since she hired me, gave me flexibility, and became a friend, I couldn’t live with myself to compete with her.

Sara:Anyway. Reagan is here now, bitching at Cole.

“You think you two can finish up this prep?” I asked Tiffany.

“Sure thing.” She beamed, bopping her head to the music she listened to from the one earbud she wore.

Blake:I’ll be on my way in a few.

Sara:Okay.

Blake:He’s not covered in paint again, is he?

Sara:Not this time.

Blake:Food fight?

Sara:Nope.

That didn’t tell me much. When Brent got in the mood to terrorize George, it always ended badly.

I texted Jenny to let her know I was heading out now—not that she ever asked. She always reminded me that it wasn’t necessary to report in. Her trust in me was a gift, and I never wanted to lose it.

But… I already don’t deserve it.I was pretty sure hiding the fact that George was her great-grandson was a pretty big deal breaker in the game of trust.

I untied my apron as I left the kitchen. Like I did every time I headed out of here, I glanced back at the building and wondered what could’ve made Jenny West never want to have it as a restaurant again. If I could manage it, we could be partners, but anytime I carefully brought it up, casually, she was so quick to cringe and say she was good with just catering.

Ribbons from the wreath hooked on the streetlamp waved back and forth with the brutal wind, and I pulled my coat tighter against my body. If we got more snow, again, we’d have a hell of a time getting the vans close to the entrances we typically used for parties. I didn’t understand why maintenance crews neglected the service and unloading areas of venues, but at least none of us had fallen on slippery ice.

I drove toward the school, wincing when my phone rang halfway there. That Spice Girls ringtone was a joke that I would never let her live down, but I didn’t even remember the whole story of when we’d made it. She moved here when we were sophomores, relocating to Vernford when her mom stopped fighting her dad about the custody arrangements from their divorce.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Uh, never mind what I texted now,” Sara replied.

I frowned as I stopped the van at a red light. “Huh? It was a false alarm?”

“Um, no. But it appears as though the situation has been resolved, and both boys are heading back to the classroom for the remaining twenty minutes of the day.”

I rubbed my brow, frustrated because I’d already left the kitchen and called it an early quit to my workday. But I was more confused. “Okay. Um…”

Resolved the situation?I had all faith in Cole’s ability to be a fair and honest principal at the school, and I wasn’t just saying that because I was best friends with his younger sister and knew the whole family well. Resolutions to any case of Brent being a bully came the same way—with Reagan showing up, insisting that Brent was innocent, that the teachers were ganging up against him, and that George or whoever else was the victim had to be at fault and owed Brent an apology.

“So, Reagan beat me to the office and… George has to kiss ass to Brent like usual?”

She growled lightly. “It is such bull that this is how it is.”

“Until the school board isn’t a Francis organization…”

She huffed. “I know. I know. Reagan’s here, but she’s still fuming in there. Um, someone else acted as a mediator this time. I think. I guess? I’m not sure how to explain this.”

I drove at the light turning green, confused as ever.I may as well just continue on to the school. It’ll be pickup time soon.I’d have a couple of hours with George before Amanda would come over to babysit him while I did my catering duties at another party. It was a smaller shindig, just an office holiday party, but it was still hours I’d be on the clock, and likely late too.

Thank God for Amanda.She was another reason not to leave Vernford. That teen was simply irreplaceable, so understanding with George, like they were family.

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